Thursday, November 7, 2013

Skippy's Back is Here!

Hello to you new fans and followers of Fleedsplotch.

Skippy have just been informated that he is being followed by 30 new follower persons of which is nice.  "Ask Skippy the Genius Guy" is who Skippy answer questions d'jour of the earth anytime day, a or 24 hours a night.

Skippy has a metal plate in his head and lives with Mama, the twins of his dead sister, and his cat, Mr. Whiskers  the VIIII, who may be a Chupacabra.

So just ask and get smarter it is.

Skippy The Genius Guy

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Skippy Sez: Snyder Done Does It Again

Skippy thinks that Don Snyder, the owner and chef of the Washington Redscums will dance with the one who brang him as soon as NFL Free Allegory starts February 27th-ish.

Remember last year when the Redscums traded two picks (nose and water) to the Miami Dolphins, (formerly the Renault Dauphines)? Huh? Huh? In exchange for those toothpicks, the Marine and Puce only received the runner-oops from the last “Dancing with the Stars” TV show.

That prayer, Defensive End Jasmine Taylor, quickly began injuring his extremities. First he had Planter’s Fascitititititis, which means your foot hurts. Then he hurt his knee. How? Fried. No, wait, wrong joke. Actually, Taylor’s knee got badly hyper-extenuated when he arrived so late trying to make a tackle, the next play had already started.

Next Taylor completed the Hat Truck of injuries when his calf got Compartmentilization Sitdown. That’s when a player drives himself to the hospital in the middle of the night to garner sympathy for himself but not, ironically, for Jennifer Garner, who is smokin’ hot.

Here’s what Skippy thinks. (If he’s wrong, blame the nascent science of Plate Tectonics.) See, Don Snyder has been out of the sportlight spurtlight for years. Well, except to remind us now and then that he can’t draft or hire someone who can, can’t win, can’t trade, and can’t run an amusement park which rises bold and stark while kids huddle on the beach in a mist. Also, he picked the wrong Scientologist as his movie buddy.

So Skippy thuswise stinks Synder will look to make a major splatdown by trading away the farm for extensive Free Agencies who will disappoint fans or disappear or both. Turns out getting Taylor in time to channel the fading career of Bruce Smith was just a warmup.

Look for Snyder to trade his #1 pick this year and next year for a Baltimore Oriole linebacker, plus spend $80 million more for Alan Haynseworth, defensive tickle of the Tittans or defensive end Julius Caesar of the Carolina Pinchers.

Whichever one they get will eat himself out of horse and home and/or plan a second career as an Hollywood Action Herpes. Skippy believes in the old Scottish expression "Stay the Gorse" and build threw the daft.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Skippy the Analyist Anals the Redskims

Well here it is with the Supper bowl approaching, and Skippy’s favorite fubbal team has had it’s dopes and schemes cruelly flushed down the porcelain convenience.

So it’s about time Skippy waited in on what the heck is wong with the Wredskins. After all, it is the post-seasoning beyotching Season of the Year, footballwisedlyspeaking.

Let's stop with the front orifice. First of leave, stop picking on Vinny Ceratini for not being sorry for his mistooks. The guy started his own radio show, and that has keeped him two busy to apologize for his incompetence. Just like George Bush W. I’m sure when the Redskims General Mangler in Chief of Charge of Footballs and Operations gets fired from his radio show he’ll have plenty of time to ‘splain to fans why he is such a yutz. (Yutz is a Jewish word for Schmuck, which is a Jewish word for Putz.)

Let’s start with last year when hops were higher than Cheech Marin with pocketful of blunts. Okay, so Vinny dafted three guys who can’t walk and chew gum at the same time to goose up the passing attack and that ended up giving HIM the bird. One can’t wake up, one can't line up, one can’t stand up without his knees turning into mushmellons.

He also dafted a corner botch who is 5’2” and couldn’t cover Alaska with snow during a hurricane of snow only colder which water has to be to be snow and a hurricane doesn’t have it but Skippy can’t think of the word for Blizzard.

The punter he dafted is now working at a Seven-11, which ironically was the average length of his punts--seven foots, eleven inches, plus Federal Exercise Tax.

Also, he traded for Peg Leg Bates to play defendible end. Twice. First there was Irritable James, a one legged guy who lives in a hospital. His best rush technique was hoping the QB got injured, then sneaking into the ER and hitting him over the head with a bedpan.

The other bozo was a 55-year-old tap dancer, who is 6’6” 120 pounds, and who worked out in the off-season with Rita Moreno . Vinny managed to swindle him away for only a 2nd round pick despite demands by Miami for an eighth-rounder and a bag of beer nuts.

Jason the Tailor spent the season in the whirlypool, on the bench or in the ‘skins defensive backfield, where he usually got blocked to. He plans to spend this off-season on the Gaza, Strip-dancing with Joe the Plumber.

Vinny also mangled to sign Bill Clinton Portis as lifetime running back at a crap figure so high, he can never be fired, which encourages him to be shellfish and nut a team prayer.

Meanwhile, Don Snyder refusals to hire a general mangler whose religion doesn’t forbid the dafting of linemen.

This is whay the Redskims suck. Again.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Skippy's Holiday Letter and Fruitcake

Dear Friend, Dead Relative and/or Creditor,

Hi. My Name is Skippy and I have a metal plate in my head. I live in a Doublewide in a Trailer Park with Mama and the twins of my former dead sister, plus our cat “Mr, Whiskers IV,” just down the row from Floyd the Truck Drivin’ Man. I really really like Lemon Meringue Pie

This is Skippy’s Anal Christmas Letter, which also doubles as his Christmas Card and is also in lieu of a fruitcake, too, which no one gets this year, praise the Load. So, Firstly-wise, Skippy wishes all and yours a Meretricious or Chanooka or Ginsu, or Ramalamadingdog, or whichsoever your Faith of Preference is.

Secondly-wise, Skippy is fat busted this year like Pamela Anderson. So busted that a scammed artist broke into Skippy’s blank account and left a note saying, “Sorry to have bothered you.” And Skippy’s not the Lone Arranger in hat irregardless. The empire country pf USA as a hole is in a Repression because of George Bush “W’s” Presidential Recrimination. Bush, his President of Vice, Dork Cheney, and their Fart Cat buddies stealed from the poor and give to them selfs. Now everybody, for richer or poorer, has gotten their ass handed to them in a cocked hat and the black guy has to clean it up.

Meanwhile as the daze dwindle down to a precious few in the Bush Caporegime, George W has been on a farewell tool collecting going away presents and Awards. For instance, the American Organ Meat Association just honored him with its prestigious “Liverwurst President Ever” Prize. Then Bush went to Baghdad and was given a t-shirt reading: “I Destroyed an entire Nation and All I Got Was a Used Pair of Shoes.”

It have been a grimed year for Skippy and his or her loved ones.

Skippy’s best fiend, Floyd, the Truck Drivin’ Man, who has lived at the Trailer Park since 1982, had his brand new Peterbilt almost repossessessed. The bank had just started the process when they got bankruptured themself. They took his bilt, but Floyd got to keep his Peter.

Meanwhile, Mama’s 401(k) has all but disappeared. Now we knows what the “(k)” stand for. It stands for “Krap.” The only thing that has not shrinked down to nothing in Mama’s world is her Goiter. It recently replaced Pluto as both the 18th Planet in the Sonic System and Mickey’s favorite dog.

The twin offsprung of Skippy’s dead sister have seen their collage fund been spent on frivolous needs like food, shelter and drugs. Because of the finagle disaster, Mama has had to cut back on her Medico Marijuana, which leaves less weed for the twins to steal, which caused them to be depressed, which qualified them for their own Medical Marijuana to treat their depression, which cured them of their depression so they couldn’t get no more medical marijuana, which depressed them again, which qualified them for more medical marijuana which enabled this sentence to win the Nobel Peach Prize for Endless Roundelays.

Then there is Skippy’s kittycat, “Mr. Whiskers IV.” Because of hard times Mr. Whiskers has
been reduced to eating cat food, just like Mama.

In medical gnus, Skippy recently had emergency surgery to have the mental plate in his head removed, rotated, degaussed, relined, chopped, channeled, lowered, louvered, and reinserted back in his dome. Post surgery, Skippy is very confused, utterly befuddled, dangerously disoriented, badly bewildered, disturbingly dizzy and agonizingly addlepated. In other words, good as new.

Skippy would like to thanks his Doctor, Vincent Boombatz, of the Philadelphia Boombatzes, for his excellent work while sedated. And by that, Skippy means Skippy was sedated, not Dr. Boombatz. Dr. Boombatz was drunk.

And finally, as the Year of Our Load, 1929, comes to an Merciful Contusion, Skippy wishes you and yours from his and hers, a Fastidious Festivus and a Hoppy New Year, if there is one.



Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Redskim Mid-Sesion Reprot: Pt. 1 Defense

Skippy has recently have had his mental plate removed, rotated, repolished and regrooved before being re-intercepted into Skippy’s Skull Dome. The cracked Surgeon, Dr. Vinnie Boombatz promised no slide efforts.

So here is Skippy’s recession of the Skins session to date, at the Buy-week. Skippy celebrates his buy week by buying a vowel, new skivvies and a hooker. (The hooker is for Ma, who wears them out doing her needlepoint.)


Defensive Backfielders: Horton Hears a Who is an unmitigated success and could be Rookie of the Beer. He matripulated at UCLA (Unusual Collection of Lousy Athletes) and was daft in the seventh ground, but has been an unquantified success. Rookie Careen Moor has been okay but rookie J.T Tryon couldn’t cover a sofa with ten yards of upholstery.

Sam Springs hurt his cusp muscle and covers the bench. Fred Snoot walks the talk but doesn’t always talk the walk. Carlos Scissorhands has been very good in coverage but couldn’t catch a cold with a mosquito net and a salad-shooter. Skippy read about DeAngelo Hall, but he thinks that’s a campus dormitory.

Linedbackers: London Calling is one of the best aground. Rocky Mountaintop recovered from season saving surgery last year and has been very good. George Washington gets donged a lot, and H.B. Ginsu fills in for him.

Defensive Line: The ‘skins traded for Jason Taylor in case a dance class broke out at Redskim Park. He’s been hurt ever since, probably because he weighs about 150 pounds. Dermatitis Evans is the team’s Saks leader. Kenston Gobstop leads the team at Sears. Monty Wooley leads the team at Wal-Mart. Andre Carter is pretty good, but unspectacled. Cornelius Bennett bursts into tears during team prayers and treast his teammates to a postgame rubdown. Eraserhead James plays about as often as Jesse James, who’s been dead for a century.

The defense is 4th in the League which is the best in the league except for the other three.

Next Up: My lunch. Then, folowing lunch, The Offense Half of the Team.

PS: Skippy realizes that the picture is of Redskim Cheerbreeders. But skippy voted and the results were who wants to look at fat old sweaty football players?

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Skippy's Pre-game Redskin Speech

Skippy Gzitzman, owner/operator of this website, has been given the rare honor of presenting a locker room motivational speech to the Washington Redskins before their opening game against the Superbowl Champion New York Giants. The following is a transcript of that speech. The original is on display at the Smithsonian.
Dearly Beloved,

Hi, my name is Skippy and I have a mental plate in my head. I live with Mama, the twins of my dead sister and my cat, Mr. Whiskers IV, in a FEMA doublewide down from Floyd the Truck Drivin’ Man and his Peterbilt. I really really like Lemon Meringue pie.

Skippy have been asked by Head Coach-for-Now Zim Jorn to give this Motivationary Speak to you Redskims before tonight’s game.

If you're nervous, just keep in mind the guys in the other locker room put on your pants the same way you do, only first they grease ‘em up with Crisco and KY Jelly.

Don't forget, that tonight is the day you take the bull by the shorts, strap him up, and face the music with your ear to the grimestone. Play them “One Day at a Time” although Skippy prefers “The Golden Girls,” 10 PM weeknights on TBS.

In the immoral words of that genius, Norman Einstein, never have so many done so much for so few and vice versa. Rumyard Kipling once wroted in his poem, Want some Candy, Kid?--“If you can get some head when all about you are losing theirs, congratulations, you may already be a winner.”

Today’s contest is not the end of the beginning, nor the beginning of the end. It is merely the beginning of the end of the beginning of the end, unless it rains.

Remberith thith: If a man gains the world but loseth his immoral soles, what doth it profit him in the end, unless he be jellin’?

Don’t think just because they won the Super Bowl that Giants don’t play football. Bowling is a lot like football except it’s played indoors, and it has alleys and bigger balls. Speaking of bigger balls, as the late Coach Vince Lumbago once said earlier, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight that counts, but enough about Michael Vick.”

But seriously, folks, this is what we practice for, except the guys who were cut, who practiced for little more than whatever tape they could filch.

In closing, don’t forget to tip your towel boy, tighten your jocks and clocks, and remember, win or lose, someone will emerge victorious. And it is Skippy’s firm hose that the Redskims will be the winners tonight. If not, at least make sure the Giants don’t cover. Now get out there and win one for the Giffords.

Finally, if I can leave you with but one thought, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Skippy Helps You Get Gassed

How can I save Gas and Increase Mileage?—H. Ford, Dearborn, MI.

Skippy is dewing his part to avoid Gobular Climax Change by making his trips to the pie shop more few and getting most of his same pie also at the same time too. Skippy really really likes Lemon Meringue Pie.

Skippy also axed Floyd, the truck Drivin’ Man, for some tips but he was passed out in his Peterbilt in a Diuretic Comma from all the pie.

So here is Tippy’s Gas Skips.

*Sometimes when you drive, don’t take your car, drive a bike instead. This saves gas.

*Because energy is dispensated when you put on your breaks, remove your breaks from your car. Try not to hit things, but remember if you do, when your car is in the repair shop, you can’t drive it. This saves gas.

*Use your horn and stick your head out the window and yell, “Out of the way, Fathead, I have no breaks.”

*Because gas expounds when temperatures are lower, fill your car in the early morning hours, preferably before the gas station opens. This will save you money.

*Buy several hundred propeller beanies and epoxy them to the hood of your car. The aerial windage created by the spinning propellers can be compensated into renewable energy.

*Instead of headlights, use a flashlight. This saves electricity.

*Move to a hilltop, coast down the hill and winch your car back up. This saves gas.

*A mixture of half gas, half turpentine, and half Old Time Lemonade mix can be used instead of Hi Test if you’re not that fond of your engine.

*If you don’t want solar panels on the roof of your car for atheistic reasons, put them on the bottom instead and flip your car over at night when you aren’t using it, so your solar pan…no wait, that won’t work. Never mind.

*Hitchhike. If more people hitchhiked fewer people would drive alone and there would be more sex between conmuting adults and adulturers. While you are pulled over “Doing it,” you save gas.

*Cow farts.

*Buy a slicker for your car. Wind slides past slickers, which is why they are called slickers and you get better gas musilage. Also, “slicker” is a funny word. Just ask Arty from The Larry sanders Show.

*Grace Slick was never on The Larry Sanders Show, which was a missed opportunity, if you ask me.

*Naugahyde Vinyl Seats. Your ass slides all over which provides gas-saving ass momentum going into turns. Try to turn the same way as often as probable.

*Next erection, don’t elect a oil man president in chief who as an oilman couldn’t find undergrown oil in Texas--or his ass with both hands, and who, when he owned the Texas Rangers, traded away slugger Keyser Soze.