My Jizzum-Jazzum Has More Protein Than Dr. Atkins' Small Intestine. Bovs.

Peabs is fucking extraordinary in every facet. Bovs. That being said, Dr. William H. Cosby and my outstanding, modestly gorgeous self were saddened to hear of the passing of long time Obvs Administration supporter Johnnie Cochran. Few people in history even compare to Peabs as a litigator. In fact, I'm probably the most manhunterastic attorney in the hysterectomy of Nicole 4 eva, so fear this, Marky Mark! Jack says you've got a great big cock. May I see it? Please? Rodney Roo let me see his! And, unsurprisingly, his summer sausage was stumpier than a quadriplegic Clare Danes compared to the General Sherman that is my motherfucking D™. And boy does it fuck the mothers! Oh, you don't believe Peabs? What does it say on your birth certificate? Yup, that's a lie. I'm your effing father, fucknozzle. Just because I luuuuvvvvvvvvv you and feel somewhat guilty for not being part of your worthless childhood, here's a birthday present consisting of a Jolly Roger salad tossing and one free fistfuck from J.D. Roth's Fistfucking Fun House! Shmears.

So, yes, back to Johnnie. What few know is that the blackalicious lawyer served as head of my defense council in a highly publicized trial from 1984, in which a seven-year old Peabs was sued by a then-unknown doctor named Robert C. Atkins. Admittedly, I was not the world-reknown Jesus Christ Superstar I am now; Norman Jewison-stizz, hogsviously. Don't even bother vomiting on my fucking face post-beej like Sloppy Fozz on Thankgiving eve if you mention that mo-mo fucktard Andrew Lloyd Webber! Fucking handjob. Anyway, since Peabs was only slightly famous in '84¹, Atkins felt as though he could extort some Norm Cash from my growing fortune in order to get his "revolutionary diet book" a publicity boost without my beautiful pre-pubescent self making a big two in the pink one in the stink about it. Nothing's shocking my sweet ass, Jane! Schmobvs. Anyhow, personally I believe it was actually because Coz sold the doctor some of my equally revolutionary protein shakes to be marketed as his own. Little did he know that the shakes were simply my very own man-sauce packaged in a tin-can I procured from a bum Bodney Sue savagely beat to death when he was going through his Berkowitz phase. Oh, that Bodney! Such an enigma. Sade, donnes-moi! Muhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Lick it.

I contemplated representing myself (duhvs, I'm a fucking wunderkind), howevs Bill Cosby talked yours effing truly out of it. Peabs believes Coz's proclamation went something like this:

"Yoouuuuuu seeeeeee, me and Dizzee and Lizzie Grubman hired Johnnie to overseeeee the dee-dee in the fiddle faddle riddle raddle! Then Cosby piddle-paddled his way out of Sing-Sing with a Ming vase and Ving Rhames and flames coming out of my flazzum!"²

Needless to say, Cochran was one of the few attorneys whom I trusted with my case. Lest we forget in the 80's the man smoked more crackrock than Malice Green – pre-Mag flashlight, snatch – and dropped Cosby-esque vernacs seemingly every other syllable. And if there's anyone who can appreciate that, it's Peabs. Studies³ say ninety percent of what Peabs says doesn't make any sense to the layman. Which is precisely why you need my hot throbbing cock to lay you, man. Mars she. It'll open your Andrew Bogut to a whole new world, so come over here and rub my magic lamp, you roo-fucking 'tutes! In no time flat, "obvs" will sound like "obviously", and "tigs shats boombalats" shall resonate like glorious trumpets and tromboners! Isn't that right, Coz?

"Yoooooouuuu seeeee, me and Dizzee Rascal cacadackled the spackle tackle box, while Orville Redenbacher flazzumed his Rickenbocker with Betty Crocker! Puddin'!!"

Hmmmmmm. I'm not quite sure how often you'll need the old "in-out, in-out" from Peabs in order for Heathcliff to start making sense. My guess? Twice. Just bend over while I lubey-lube my unprotected and infected D™ with some room temperature Crisco® and buttfuck you all the way back to your velvety 'Frisco bathhouse, Moe-Moe Tucker! Peabs-a-roni: the San Francisco treat! Bovs.

Obvs in '05™.


¹According to French Tickler Fuckstickler Fagazine, Peabs was the 3rd most famous person alive in the year 1984, behind Barbaro Garbey and Winston Smith, respectively.
²Okay, so maybe Coz say that exactly. It was the fucking '80's, for Peabs sake. There was a reason why my nickname was Cokehead Von Hugecockerson. Obvs.
³And by studies, I mean what I estimated just now after snorting some 714's off your Aunt Fran's clitring. Ooh-jah!