Ned's hatred

Ned, just because you ain't never been down to southeastern Tennessee don't mean you gots to drag it through the mud because of Marilyn's illogical, colossal brain fart (I hate that term, but, Marilyn, you made me use it).

"I reckon you can just shut that big city mouth of yours, boy. We don't like your kind 'round here."

Chattanooga's home to the Choo-Choo and Senator Bob Corker (speaking of brain fart).

Water's good. Waffles are good. Dry humping has its moments. And, Marilyn missed the target on this one, her God can't hold a candle or a waffle or a birthday waffle with candle to a waffle.

Sorry, man. And when I say man I mean the dude uptop. Walk on water and we'll talk. Or, move some water around. Or, furnish the keg for my upcoming house party. You could use some water as a base or just switch it straight over. Cure my acne. Something! Anything! Or, or, better yet reveal yourself to me and I'll carry you to stardom. Send me a text. I'll shoot you my address. We'll talk! I'll introduce you to George Clooney and David Letterman. If they can't deliver your message to the masses, well, no one can. You need to stop depending on the Marilyns of the world and getchya a Sean Penn or a Rosie O'Donell. I know Uma.

And, how about a book. An autobiography, perhaps. Biographies are for chumps. I know a guy who knows a girl at Harper Collins. Let's get serious about this, guy. We'll send out some emails, tweets, and post a listing on Craigslist San Francisco. We can have a weenie roast and just kick some ideas off of one another. I'm not omniscient, but I know a little something about how this is done. You gotta give a little. We'll meet you halfway, but you can't just kick back in a hammock upstairs and expect us to bake you a bundt cake or some waffles. That shit ain't gonna work!

And, we'll get you a cool name like Ned or Russell. No can ignore a Russell.