To Anonymous: Go Fuck Yourself

Alright. So it's been awhile. But then I'm searching through the comments in AWC's last post and I stumble upon this little something:

"anonymous said...

RIP JUHS?"

Uhhhhhhhhh, what the hell is that about? Let's get this straight: I fucking hate anonymous commenters. If you aren't man (or woman) enough to at least put a face to your opinion then you're an unselfconfident douche. I'd turn off anonymous commenting but ... meh. Fuck you.

And then it's "RIP" ... like this blog has somehow died? Why don't you get on here and write something your damn self, anonymous? We're fucking busy. We're not dead; it's called a summer slowdown. It's not our fault there's nothing entertaining going on in the news. Aquatic deaths have been down. Celebrity idiocy is at an all time historical high. Paris is getting the job done right now ... you don't need us. We're supposed to be out there digging up the hot underground shit for you, not feeding you what you can get on the front page of CNN. You lazy cunt. Fuck you.

And another thing, even if the blog did die, there's a really, really high chance it'd come back to life. It's died before and it's been resurrected before. This is a long term investment. And sometimes long term investments don't pay dividends for a while. You know? But do you sell when the market's slow? NO, you fucking buy that shit up before it gets hot again. Otherwise you'll sit there with your fake Gucci wallet wondering why you're not in the game. Listen, just stay in the fucking game. Don't sell now. Just don't. Don't. Don't. Oh... oh, just... Fuck you.

And when we say Takeover, we mean it. If you're gonna go through with this and get tookover, do us a favor and stay tookenover. This can't be a monthly uhh, occurrence, alright? We commence with a takeover once, and that shit sticks. We have all these plans, sure, but it takes a while to put into action. There's lots of planning and organizing and reorganizing and creative-head-juice-squeezing involved. We don't just shit out entertaining posts (present post excluded) ... it takes foresight. OK? Fuck you.

.......

Umm, I forgot where I was going with this. I had grand plans for this post, but that all went to hell somewhere in the last couple of paragraphs. Ehh, I don't mean to let you people in on more than you care to know about me ... but I haven't really been getting any lately (with English girls, that's probably a good thing). Honestly, I'm a little stressed. So if I come off strong ... that's why. Anyway, the blog is not dead. The Johnny is not dead. Wilbur Burris is not dead. Quit your fucking complaining, anonymous, and create something with your life. Completely seriously, fuck you.

Flipping Out With the Johnny U.

We here at the JUhS love many things. Two of those things are baseball and flipping out. Seriously. Love baseball and flipping out. So, of course, we love it when the two combine. About a year ago Joe Mikulik gave us this. In what I believe to be an homage, Phil Wellman of the Atlanta Braves’ AA affiliate, the Mississippi Braves, gave us this amazing bit of flipping out:





Johnny Flipping Out Rating: 8 out of 10 Eggs Fried on Foreheads (tied for lead with Mikulik)

Now, after his amazing performance, Joe Mikulik was given the Johnny as an arena in which to come on and explain himself and let the public know a bit about him. So, in fairness, the Johnny caught up with Mr. Coach Phil Wellman after the game:

JUhS: Welcome Mr. Coach.
Phil Wellman: You can call me Philbo.
JUhS: Not doing that. Anyway, we truly appreciate your performance the other night. I believe it tied the Flipping Out Fried Egg record. What do you have to say?
PW: Well, personally, I believe that to be an unstable rating system, but I’m glad. I wish I could've done more to set a new record. Next time, maybe I'll whip out my package or something....take a dump on the bat boy...something special. I’ve been studying under Bobby Cox, who is about to become the most ejected man in baseball history. As well, I consider Lou Piniella a mentor and hero and I have his poster above my bed.
JUhS: Hm. We certainly appreciate your creativity you put into your performance, meaning the army crawl and grenade attack with the resin bag. What was your inspiration?
PW: Well, few know this, but I’m actually a Soldier of Fortune. I’m well connected and very dangerous and that was just a warning to the umpire that his family’s house will probably be firebombed. Did you notice my thoroughness in covering the ENTIRE plate with dirt? Too many dudes just kick some dirt on there. But I wanted to make sure that it was done right.
JUhS: We’re kind of scared right now. So, what’s on your iPod?
PW: I have a huge mix of stuff. Charlie Daniels, Europe, Daughtry, Triumph, Da' Brat, and my all time favorite, Al Green. That was actually my iPod getting blazed over the PA during my performance. I called up to the booth and told Teddy the PA man to cycle over to my "Smooth Jams" playlist and crank up the good Reverend. I figured it established a good dichotomy for my performance. I like to sometimes call up and tell Teddy the PA man to cycle to my "Booty Jamz" playlist and get some JT Money in the air. Get them bitches in the crowd to "shake dey fat azzes".
JUhS: Wow. You’re quite the enigma...and crazy. Well, thanks for your time Coach. And best of luck.
PW: Thanks, man. But seriously, we’re the revolution.

After he said that, some horses crashed through the walls of the clubhouse and Coach jumped into the sidecar of a motorcycle driven by a leather-clad dude with a spiked-helmet (I THINK it was Dan Aykroyd). Then, they all stormed off and all that was left was the resonating sound of Lloyd Banks being bumped from the boom box being carried by one of the horsemen. Truly a weird night.