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Monday, May 4, 2009

Mayweather's garbage turns Pacquiao into Sir Laughalot

“I beat fighters and turn them into bitches. They go out and put on fish nets. That’s what I do.”—FLOYD MAYWEATHER JR. MARKING HIS OFFICIAL RETURN TO THE RING.

I wasn't aware but I am now that Floyd Mayweather Jr. had fought so many transvestites, so many cross dressers.

Not that there is anything wrong with getting in touch with one's frilly, feminine fun side of course.

I am a libertarian when it comes to such kinky amusement although I have never worn any pumps or thongs, I must admit. But, what the hey, Erin go bra less and like that.

I wasn’t there for these comments, having been banned in Las Vegas by some Nervous Nellies in the Ricky Hatton camp if you can call that a camp.

Yes, it is that, something like a Girl Scout camp watching its cookies crumble.

So I am not sure if Mayweather’s garbage, I refuse to call it simple trash talk because this is toxic waste, was put out directly to the face of Oscar De La Hoya. If Oscar does not call Mayweather on this, privately if not publicly, then I hate to say it but Oskie Dolla Hoya is a rhymes with so rich.

And what of ODLH henchman Richie Rich Schaefer? Did he laugh, guffaw and slap his knees at this riotous remark by PBF? There is a lot more Gordon Gecko than Tex Rickard coursing through the veins of the Boxing Banker.

He makes Snidely Whiplash seem like a kindly soul at times and this had to be one of those times.

You see, the Goldens are playing a game with the Mayweather/Juan Manuel Marquez fight of July 18. It’s the old good cop (Oscar)/bad cop (Schaefer) routine as they each pretend to totally support one of the two fighters when the only real thing they fully support is the GBP bottom line. When Schaefer speaks we are all supposed to say, "Bad cop, no donut!"

In my case, it's more like, "Bad writer, no press pass!"

Now I suppose I am banned from that show as well. Oh, the price of the truth sometimes runs high but I’m not shutting up or shutting down for any boys, Golden or Tinsel varieties.

Exactly who does Mayweather, who one inflamed source tells me, has to give his entire purse (perhaps about $10 million) over to his friendly IRS tax bill collectors, think is scared by the sound of his silly wolf tickets?

Juan Ma isn’t listening to it unless PBF suddenly starts doing some habla espanol. He can wear a MAYWEATHER LOVES MEXICO robe and a nifty sombrero but I don’t Mayweather studying at Berlitz or using the Rosetta Stone course to learn the language any time soon, do you?

Hey, news flash to Floyd: Juan Ma no entiende su basura.

I do guarantee that such talk from a cat who had to go 10 rounds with Ricky Hatton as opposed to Manny’s two round blitzkrieg of the same punching bag from the UK will get an immediate and visceral reaction from the Ring King from Gensan.

Pacquiao will become Sir Laughalot when Mayweather starts talking his best Fitty Cent ghetto rap attack at the Pinoy Idol.

Mayweather may turn out to be unintentionally the funniest guy this side of Dave Chappelle.

Which reminds me of Chappelle’s wicked line about San Francisco’s gritty Tenderloin district, “There is nothing tender about that motherflyer!”

There was nothing tender about Hatton being cooked in about the same time it takes to properly make poached eggs.

Not that I mean any insult to my beloved poachie woachies, a breakfast dream. I mean, what is better in the morning than “Adam and Eve on a raft, don’t break ‘em?”

Actually, Richard John Hatton wasn’t really poached.

He looked more scrambled at the finish, I’d say.

Pacman turned the so-called Hitman into the Hurtman in quick order. Downtown Hiroshima did not go down as fast as the Mancunian idol did.

And that superlative, furious mission statement by Megamanny is why Mayweather’s b---- talk is hot air.

It’s sound minus fury and, to Manny Pacquiao the Smiling Warrior, it’s just another comedy act.

If Mayweather really thinks he will see a scared Megamanny wearing exotic women's lingerie, he is a truly sick puppy dog.

And, like a puppy dog, we already know that his b---- barking is worse than his Pitty Pat, Rat A Tat bite.


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