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You Say I’m Premature, I Just Call It Ecstasy

Well, you knew this was coming. You couldn’t think that this trial would take place in my own back yard and I wouldn’t be sneaking in to get a glimpse. I’ve joined Matt for some of the festivities at the courthouse this week and think there are some items worth revisiting from Pitino’s direct and cross examination. Children, avert your eyes.

Of all the nonsensical things for Pitino to protect, what continues to make me laugh is his continued spin of how he got himself into this mess that evening. To hear Rick tell it, he had a round of golf, a couple of drinks, and was looking for stimulating conversation. His version: he only stayed at Porcini’s that night after the restaurant closed to finish his drink and talk with a woman he hadn’t previously met about…well, he never really said. After $500 worth of drinks, what do you think ole Rick was wanting to discuss? Was she telling him her thoughts on Keynesian economics or, just maybe, do you think he was curious to hear about her ability to suck a watermelon through a garden hose? Rick was on a quest for some strange but he refuses to say it. You know, cause that would be embarrassing.

For good reason, Karen wasn’t Rick’s first choice that night, although he wouldn’t say it on the stand. Rick was obviously hoping to have a story about his balls landing in the rough with the golfer from the Yan Can Cook tour. He saw Karen, knew she wasn’t going anywhere, and hoped to get an upgrade before last call. It didn’t work, so the slowest gazelle went down because my man was backed up. He could take one look at Karen and knew her face would just look like a Japanese Geisha’s under a black light. He went for the sure thing, but he just can’t own it. Instead of chasing Pro V 1s and Slazengers around Valhalla, maybe he should have spent some time playing with the big blue balls between his legs and avoided the temptation all together.

Then there was the revelation of the 15 seconds of passion. We know Karen is “experienced”, but the finish time she commanded is still remarkable. I can’t imagine her love puddle able to provide any more friction than your average ice road trucker’s highway. But, much like Nolan Ryan’s last no hitter, she defied age, logic, and physics to create a magical moment. Karen Sypher may have the best stroke this side of Dick Clark and Rick, it even takes Dick longer than 15 seconds to count down from ten every new year’s eve. People ride bulls longer than that. In fact, in the time it took me to write this sentence you could have created a life, provided you didn’t create a spooge luge down your inner thigh. You are the Usain Bolt love making. Congrats on that.

Hungry yet? Why not try an eatery that now has to raise its hand whenever the question is asked “which restaurant has to mop its floors with spermicide?”. Outside of accidentally hiring Mel Gibson and Chris Brown to work the hostess station, I can’t imagine a more toxic PR casualty. Good luck selling $30 spaghetti O’s now.

And finally, I need to mention Karen. The one and only thing everyone agrees on thus far in this trial is that she hands out mouth hugs like they’re pennies from the tray next to the register at the Circle K. Only Lieutenant Dan rivals her in the category of amount of time spent on knees. At this point, I am calling on Too Short to step up his game and get back in the studio for one more honorary track. She looks just as off in person as I had imagined and love that she clutches an 8 by 10 framed photograph during the duration of testimony. I haven’t seen it, but I’m guessing its one of her dressed in Wild West bordello gear and was made at Pigeon Forge Old Timey Photos.

All in all, this trial may have provided more unintentional comedy than I could have ever hoped for. Hope to provide you more updates as it continues.

Article written by Turkey Hunter