Battle of the seven-button suitcoats
Jan 21, 2008 2006 Draft, 2007 Season, Bad Idea Jeans, Fake Conversations with Real People, Huh?, I'm not even sure this one is funny, Inanity, Overrated, Super Bowl 2008, Teams that aren't the Texans, Thannon Tharpe, Vinsanity
Bathroom at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, 10:45pm
Shannon Sharpe: Man…I really gotta take a thit. Thtupid airplane food.
(2 minutes later)
Sharpe: (singing to himself) Thwing loooowwww, thweet chariot, comin’ for to thumthin thumthin hoooome…
(Merril Hoge enters the next stall)
Hoge: Damn, son…that’s some FINE singin’. I love me an old-fashioned black spiritual. Makes me feel like I am back home in Idaho. Not that we had blacks…hey, who’s in there, anyway?
Sharpe: Thumone tryin’ to thit, dammit. Thut up and give a brotha thum peathe.
Hoge: Hooooo, boy! Listen to that lisp! You sound frutier than bag of Starburst, son! Wait…is that you, Vince?!? I always knew you’d sound gay!!! I’d ask you to toss me some toilet paper, but you couldn’t get it over here even if you wanted to. Isn’t that right, Mr. Overrated?
Sharpe: Motherfucker, ith me–Thannon Tharpe! Who the hell are you?
Hoge: It’s Merril. You know, ESPN Analyst Merril Hoge. Good lord, I never realized how gay you sound. If you’d have been tapping your foot there in the stall while you were singing, I’da thought you were hitting on me.
Sharpe: Whatever, man. Jethuth taught me to turn the other cheek and not hate juth becauth thumone ith diffent. (pauses, grunts, continues) Hey, thpeaking of hate, why the hell are you alwayth ripping on Vinthe? You jus make yourthelf thound ignurrant, cuz it thows you don unnerthand what he really bringth to hith team.
Hoge: What he brings to his team? You mean like twice as many INTs as TDs? (farts, laughs)
Sharpe: Thee! Thath what I am talk about! You mith the point–that he bringth intangimableth that thtupid thtatithticth can’t meathure!
Hoge: Please! That’s what everyone says, what’s that even mean? If the only thing he does well is stuff that can’t be measured, then how much stock can you put in the “intangibles?”
Sharpe: But he winth gameth!
Hoge: No, the Titans’ DEFENSE wins games. Their offensive line that turns shitheads like LenDale White into viable options wins games. Vince is just along for the ride and, if he manages not to screw shit up, gets all the credit for the win! How does that make any sense? But no matter how much I scream about it, people listen to you lisp about how great he is!
Sharpe: You are thuch an ignurrant hick. Taking all thothe hitth to the head mutht’ve methed you up. You thimply don’t know what you are talking about, becauth he ith that great. I mean, tho what if he can’t throw thirty yardth with accurathy? He ith deadly effithient on thothe eight yard dump offth. He creath playth with hith legth. He fortheth defentheth to adjutht. He hath a chanthe to be one of the betht dual-threat quarterbackth in hithtory. I’ve gotta be honetht, Merril–it really thoundth like thour grapeth, man. All you’ve done thince he wath drafted wath talk about how awful he ith.
Hoge: Maybe I am just sick of people making him into Jesus in Cleats! Maybe I fail to see what he does that is worth a first round pick, let alone a high first round pick. Or…maybe…
Sharpe: What ith it?
Hoge: Maybe I miss the old days, Shannon. The days when I could still play and quarterbacks were not supposed to run. That’s what the running backs were for. I miss the days when Neil O’Donnell was a god among men.
Sharpe: Neil O’Donnell wath never a god, Merril! Thath juth thtupid.
Hoge: You didn’t know Neil like I knew him, Shannon! No one did! See…NOW who is being the negative prick?!
(voice from the third stall)
Emmit Smith: Guys, guys, guys…let me be the void of return. All this negativosity is impending you from researching a mortgageable contraceptive.
Shannon: Oh, Jethuth Chritht.
