Brett Favre comin' at ya! - Cranks For The Memory

Funny story written by John Peurach

Wednesday, 13 October 2010


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image for Brett Favre comin' at ya! - Cranks For The Memory
BRETT'S ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING: Here's looking at you, kid. (In 3D where available.)

JOHNSON CITY, NY - Although recent revelations that future retired NFL quarterback Brett Favre sent photos of his necessary privates on several occasions to coyolicious New York Jets sideline reporter Jenn Sterger during the 2008 season might seem shocking enough, there's always this bit of terrific something to consider.

In apparent above-the-knee-jerk response to the now ongoing full-tilt developments surrounding Favre's highly inappropriate package good e-mail/texting tour while performing as an otherwise key contributing member of the New York Jets, all full-blown scandal savvy inquiring eyes (and tape measures) have quickly descended upon the sleepy hamlet of Johnson City in upstate New York for the kind of answers few knew actually ever existed before this tawdry occasion rose up out of nowhere and quickly came to the kind of about-to-blow-head, which all involved now seem super determined to get all the way down with.

The reason for so much decidedly firm and pointed commotion going on in this off the beaten path direction is the fact that, due to a longstanding agreement with law enforcement agencies from coast to coast, around the world, and, essentially all ships at sea, Monster One.i (a local based, multi-media, digital image mainframe clearinghouse, of sorts) has, since the mid-90s, apparently retrieved, collected, sorted, cataloged, and forever placed in both downloaded and hardcopy storage any wireless or electronically captured, transported, and/or file shared image of down there human male equipment, not otherwise documented for clinical purposes, or reasons of a more unspecific and/or indescribable nature for the benefit of an, as yet, undetermined research & development entity based in Henderson, Nevada, Bangalore, India, and Vatican City.

As the accidental brainchild of emotionally stunted computer wizard savant, Peter Paul Piperzak (current owner, operator, CEO, President, and only full-time company employee), Monster One.i has proven to be an invaluable go-to resource for authorities attempting to sort out the sometimes nasty business of smart aleck guy behavior.

Especially when such down low up front hijinks is of a non-requested, uncalled for variety, that, as such, is somehow otherwise redirected to the less than amused attention of any semi-unsuspecting female (or, not yet that open minded male), as a means to both shock, and, in some peculiar way, be a visual substitute for a more acceptable brand of would-be social networking and/or impromptu human contact apparently in need of an altogether eye-catching icebreaker, so to speak.

Needless to say, this somewhat over abundant treasure trove of below the belt visual treasures at Monster One-i has immediately become an altogether gold mine of sorts for all those nose-to-the-bulge news hounds who have made it their personal go-for-broke business to sniff out whatever they can in hopes that they might uncover even more sports world heroes who may have, at one time or another, attempted to pull off a similar un-smooth, un-cool, totally dumbbell-like move as Favre did when he apparently had his junk say cheese in order to both payback, and (allegedly) further woo, someone he initially banked on being easier to write off as just another hotsy totsy conquest, back when everything he was packing was still safely tied up pillar to post, and, for better or worse, all in the stable.

Sadly however (or, more to the point - totally and unequivocally shocking) upon further review, this somewhat aggressive hands-on quest for even more sporting stuff smoking guns has proven to be anything but the kind of all-in, balls-deep, walk-in-the-park flashdance that most of those assigned to the task were expecting when they were given the assignment to access what they could of Pipersak's virtual wall-to-wall selection of heretofore passed on and/or forwarded close encounter portraits of the prixilated kind.

"To tell you the truth, I was under the impression that there would have been more of a selection," said Pipersak, once face to face with the reality that, sports world-wise, only a handful of ready for their close-up penises showed up in anything but an assumed position on his database radar. "Luckily Dennis Rodman was, and still is, such a consistent contributor, or else all we'd be pretty much looking at here is, as expected, New York Giants standout Lawrence Taylor, and, of course, whatever numerous ex-New York Yankee personnel from the Steinbrenner era could team up to flop atop apparently the same clubhouse training table."

"And, oh yeah," he quickly added, while still dressed in his Jetson's pajamas during a well attended mid-afternoon news conference held on the patio (and, as it later turned out, a good portion of a nearby tulip bed) outside his mother's modest split-level three-bedroom Colonial, "some kind of something that a so far unnamed former NBA star is allegedly believed to have e-mailed to Detroit Pistons play-by-play announcer George Blaha on at least one occasion."

Consequently, those expecting to see what kind of lumber the late Kirby Puckett was toting around were left completely in the dark, much like most, if not all, of the Midwest area Hooters and Olive Garden hostesses and waitresses still claiming to have either been witness to such a thing, or just one of the seemingly endless supply of choke-up artists who are now thought to have helped the sexually infamous Minnesota Twins outfielder go from first to home (after dinner was served) during a good portion of his Hall of Fame career.

Meanwhile, on a somewhat not all that surprising, yet equally disturbing note, what investigative reporters covering this story did discover, once this in-the-system hang loose perp walk was ultimately unfolded for their inspection, was that, by and large, the bulk of the material up for grabs at Monster One-i was, more often than not, generated across the board by, either numerous entertainment agent trainees at the Creative Artists Agency (CAA), International Creative Management (ICM), and the William Morris Agency (WMA), or an altogether unlimited supply of past and present members of the Berliner Philharmoniker woodwind section.

"Even so, based on what sort of intell we've been able to gather so far, it still appears that, especially after factoring in the stupidity quotient, Mr. Favre, more than measures up to the task of being an all-the-way-out-there king among us many lesser, as-measured, sorts," said Piperzak, to more than just a few hoot and holler cheers from those recklessly assembled around him. "Especially since he certainly seems to be the kind of mighty, mighty man who might otherwise promise a significant improvement in the quality of frequency, size, and response."

In other words, although obviously nowhere near the Milton Berle (or, better yet, Forrest Tucker) head of the class, Brett Frave nevertheless does remain, for many overly generous discerning eyes out there, the most interesting man in the world.

In still other words, stay rigid my friend.


The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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