Science has shown us that social distancing isn’t going to work in the hood because ghetto folk don’t watch White House press briefings, nor do they know who Dr. Fauci is, take their marching orders from Charlie Baker, or buy into the idea that we are “all in this together.” Today’s example of this comes from Springfield, where a plethora of flat brimmed, gravitationally challenged freeloaders got together to race cars, but ended up getting into an epic two round, male-female donnybrook. Up first were the ladies.
To recap, Land o Earthquakes called out the Notorious P.I.G for disrespecting her baby daddy.
The Notortious P.I.G didn’t take too kindly to that and so the battle ensued as these things always do in Springfield – on the hood of a Honda Civic.
They both attempted to gain leverage on the other, knowing that gravity was their friend.
But alas the Notorious P.I.G. gained the upper hand by giving Land o Earthquakes the hoodrat helicopter.
This then led to the ceremonial unveiling of what is commonly known as the “fupa,” and the burlesque portion of the battle then began.
It continued until both parties agreed that 45 seconds of exercise was all they could handle, and the Notorious P.I.G. was crowned Princess Hoodbooger.
Next up was the main event, featuring Land o Earthquakes’ boyfriend, the Diabetes Dumpstercoon, against Pony Tail Pedro, who of course was wearing the hat of champions.
This still image right here is the most iconic Springfield image that has ever been taken.
A morbidly obese man on food stamps rocking one size fits all sweatpants and Jordan’s, a grown man with a pony tail and flat brimmed Chicago Bulls hat who probably could get you heroin in less than 3 minutes, multiple people filming on their Obamaphones, and a lone woman ripping a Newport Light in front of an idol Honda Civic while thinking, “this is what I’ll be doing every Sunday night for the rest of my life.”
The Diabetes Dumpstercoon took a deep breath as he prepared to engage in anaerobic exercise for the first time since 8th grade gym class.
He eyed up Pony Tail Pedro like he was the last cold taquito at 711.
But he left himself as wide open and Pony Tail Pedro landed the only punch of either fight squarely on his jaw.
From that point forward the crowd of flat brimmed spectators, who no doubt can’t wait for the economy to reopen and get back to work, watched as the defensive battle transpired in front of them.
Credit to the Diabetes Dumpstercoon though – he kept his form and footwork solid despite not being able to tuck in his overflowing folds, which had more waves than the Gulf of Mexico during hurricane season.
An audible gasp overcame the crowd when they saw the flatbrimmed Bulls hat touch the ground, and by rule then the fight was officially ruled over with no clear winner.
Question – how many masks did you count there?
Answer – the same amount you will see on these same people starting on Wednesday. Zero.
The next time Karen from Gloucester complains that someone didn’t have a mask on at Honey Farms, send her this video to remind her that there are much more egregious social distancing violations in the hood. And this is why the plan we have used to stop the spread of the disease was a horrible idea – because they didn’t factor in that ghetto folk don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us.
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