The Challenge

Dearest Justin Timberlake,

I would not for a minute lead you to believe that I do not respect your work in the popular music industry. Far be it from me, a humble serf of the middle-classes, defame,discourage, or degrade so fine a representative of Hollywood’s paragon-elite. That being said, I believe your mother to be a prostitute and that you often times, with little regard to the animal, sodomise pigs as a sinister hobby. Your attempts to bring sexy back have failed me for the last time.

This is the digital challenge you have always feared. I propose sabers at dawn. We’ll begin on horseback. Some politically neutral island where extradition is no option. I can’t imagine you don’t own a boat to get you there. We shall fight Old Shakespeare Rules. Kicking and spitting allowed, but no horse-play, shenanigans, or cock-cuts. I’ll even let you wear a large-feathered hat.

But should you refuse to grant me a duel then I will, till my dying day, declare to everyone I see and meet in bar and street;

“Justin Timberlake, with relish and abandon, enjoys porking pork. He is the last ham-lover in Hollywood. In addition? I did his Mom. Did her good.”

Please have your seconds contact my seconds. I have both a doctor and a mortician to bring to the event. I would be willing to let you declare the judge. Please respond post-haste as the island needs to be established sooner rather than later depending on tropical wind conditions.


Jeremiah Liend.


Duke said…
Have at him. Have at him right nice!

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