Cockslapping The Malnourished And Underprivileged.

Let's be shmears here, folks. Contrary to popular belief, Peabs is more than just a pretty face, ginormous D™ and a beautiful mind (lick my effing Joe Sakic and go do some fucking math, John Nash!). I am a giving man - and not in just the "Peabs loves to give head to waifish, Chlamydia-stricken cokewhores" manner (though it certainly is fucking Ratzo Rizzo all up in your Rodney Roo, duh). Upon seeing the results of last week's tragic tsunami in southeast Asia, yours effing truly and my gorgeous fucked-up cohort Dr. Bill Cosby decided to set up a disaster relief fund. The true task at hand, howevs, was naming said fund. Tastefully. And by tastefully, I mean seeing how many times the words "relief," "orally pleasure" and "nourish oneself with the protein from Coz's jazzum flazzum" could appear. Mars she all over your prematurely ejaculated Spunky Roostered tees! Cock-a-doodle-doo, Henry! Tsunobvsies.

I'm great. Oh, what's that? What Peabs just said doesn't make any fucking sense? I shan't even dignify that with a sarcastic and genius response. Lord knows Peabs certainly isn't a genius, nor sarcastic. Not one fucking bit, you fucking handjob mo-mos. I also never talk about myself.

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Never.

Anywizz, my good friend Bodney Boo visited my posh 45,000 square foot loft in downtown Kingston this weekend to discuss the launching and naming of my tsunami relief fund. Needless to say, it was rather productive. Bodney brought over some beef brisket and rubbed it all over his ooh-jah boo-jahs and let his pet ferret Lick, ummmm, well, lick off the remnants. Lest Peabs forget to mention my dear old pal also brought an overstuffed bag of benzodiazepines and an endless amount of pure Andean trichocereus pachanoi. It was then decided that we would be launching the foundation in the middle of this week, yet we were still without a proper name. Coz felt it should be called the "Flazzumgastic Organilizationalism Alligatorasm Chasm Faction," but that was, even for yours effing truly, a bit of a mouthful. And I have a fucking mouth that could handle a load the size of Whoopi Goldberg's nappy duggsies. Duhvs. Bovs all over your ghostly tees, Swayze crazy! Muhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So what Peabs asks of you, my lovelies, is to assist your President-elect in naming my tsunami relief association by emailing my hot ass with some suggestions. The winner will receive a firm assfucking and enough anal drippage to guarantee a down syndromed by-product appearing in their womby-womb in approximate five to seven business days. Only Indira Gandhi has been able to experience such a butt-reaming. And let Peabs tell you, it was fucking outstanding. Perhaps only rivaled by the time myself and William Fucking Cosby, with the help of former WWF™ Tag-Team Champions, Demolition, gangraped Fran Drescher with a Yves St. Laurent ascot, a bathtub full of Jell-O® and 'ludes, and Mr. Fuji's cane. Schmobvs. Some say hottest gangrape since Coleman Young sodomized Malice Green with a crackpipe smothered in cucumber sauce. Φανταστικός!

Anything you care to add, Dr. Coz?

"Dizzee Rascal likes razzleberry falafel waffles!"

Obvs he does, Coz. Obvs he does.

Obvs in '05™.