I woke up this morning to Al Sharpton dancing on my screen. Al Sharpton. Dancing. On my television.
Freddie. Freddie. Freddie. Is this your hat trick?
Here’s my advice. Start selling Dancing Sharpton dolls now. They’ll be a novelty hit this Christmas. The monies can be put in a Ferrer2009 fund.
Mayor Bloomberg, my dog has peed on your sign several times already and it’s not because he doesn’t like you. He’s pretty happy about the quality of life for a pooch an especially spoiled one at that in NYC. It’s just that you’ve covered every pole within the radius of his walkzone.
Your Honor, we get it. You have money. Lots of money. I can't even IM anyone without a giant VOTE BLOOMBERG on my Instant Messenger main screen blaring back at me. Word has it you also have a ‘Text Mike’ campaign.
Really? Text you? Honestly, you haven’t responded to my letter and you think I can fall for your ‘text me’ line?
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me… Damn, I can’t even say it anymore without thinking about Bush butchering it.
Now, I'm going to have to endure endless chain mails of Sharpton doing the salsa. It's like the new hamster dance. You know the song. You know what's going to happen yet you can't help watch.
By the way, if you do market Dancing Sharpton, Mr. Ferrer, I want a cut.