Up Yours, Chicago.
By personal request, my wedding gift to my good friend, JP, Michael Bay vs. the city of Chicago.
Big ups to all my dick-swinging adrenaline addicts out there.
Mike Bliz-ow Bliz-ay taking a break from the set here in the shitty city of Chicago. Jesus, I’ve heard people complain about LA putting Thousand Island on everything, but I’ve yet to have a meal in this midwest hell hole that doesn’t come topped with sausage.
You like wangs. We get it. Stop putting brown dicks on everything.
You ever see so many fat people? Goddamn it, I hate it out here. Everyone’s like creepy friendly. If I wanted to put up with constant high-fives and “how ya’ll doin'” or whatever the fuck they say out here in the farm states, I’d have taken the tax breaks to go shoot in Canada, except for one thing: THESE COLORS DON’T RUN.
Except at pussy.
Speaking of, oh, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I have run my tongue all over and in that. Then, it seriously got weird.
Smell my forearm.
But, please, please, please, be cool, unlike the last hot slut we had in these movies, this chick actually has a boyfriend who could beat me up.
Goddamn it, I have to get back to shooting movies with army guys in it. Look at this guy, he’s a monster, and he’s in movies with fast cars, explosions, and tight titties everywhere. Incidentally that’s the title of my upcoming memoirs, ‘Michael Bay: Fast Cars, Explosions, and Titty City, a Tale of Quiet Courage.”
I have to be somewhat respectable now, which is good. Not dry fucking up against craft services builds character and requires a quiet courage. Not like last time, wooo, did that guy suck.
“What, you were on Beverly Hills 9021 Fags?”
“What? You play a bad guy on the Superman show where he’s not Superman, and does stuff that Superman doesn’t do like have a throbbing, constantly menstruating vagina? COOL.”
“Oh, you released a rap album? How fucking street.”
“You were the hero of the Terminator show where they don’t have the budget to do any of the shit that people watch Terminator for?”
Listen fucko, Michael Biehn is a fucking badass. He fought aliens and got shot in the face by cowboys. Any time Hollywood needs a Navy SEAL, they call him. You are not fucking fit to tongue clean Biehn’s jock, let alone play someone related to him.
Mike B’s have to look out for other Mike B’s, knoumsayin? What up.
But yeah, Chicago can suck my dick. Everyone’s complaining I shut down Michigan Ave. I’m making you assholes fucking immortal. FINALLY, a decent movie that people will remember FOREVER is being shot in your city, and you start crying gravy.
Newsflash, the Magnificent Mile isn’t magnificent. Where’s the all the top shelf kitty? Oh, that’s right, they drove theirs hot asses to LA to get their fuck on with me.
Do you assholes see what I’m doing? The art I’m creating? NASCAR cars covered in machine guns, driving in formations while I make boom boom all over the place.
It’s not even named after a cool state. Michigan looks like a lobster claw with Down Syndrome. That state is what the level in Hell looks like that’s full of people who committed suicide and unbaptized babies.
What? It’s called ‘the Mitten?’ Really? No shit? “Smitten with the Mitten?” Fuckin’ fuck. Of course they would name themselves after the most useless piece of clothing ever. ‘Hey, wear this stupid thing so you can’t pick anything up, grip shit, or move your hand.
The mitten is good for exactly one thing: ejaculating into the thumb slot of your dumbass DP, second-unit, or producer. That’s called ‘the Salt Miner’s Lament.’
So, yeah, you’ll excuse me if I don’t give a fuck about shit when it comes to shutting down your streets. I made Pittsburgh look like China! I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to Turd City.
Get it? Because it’s the Second City? So named because this is where the Lord popped a squat and deuced out Chicago. Why is this city here? Have you seen the rest of Illinois? It is flat, gray, and desolate. It looks like somebody set off a nuke. Which is possible. The only news they have to report is that they love their sports teams because they never win anything.
Like soccer and cheerleading, hockey doesn’t count.
Let’s review; they love losers, and they nicknamed Chicago the Second City. No one wonder everyone’s pissed that a winner came to town.
We’re all tan and buff; we must look like gods to these cheese-swilling savages. Walking around is like time-traveling back five years. Everyday mouth breathers run up to me in Jncos and No Fear shirts asking for an autograph, or to take a picture with me on something that’s not a phone.
Chicago, a day will come when you understand what I’ve done for you. It might take three or four years for this movie to make it’s way out to your theaters but rest assured, you will get the Bay Bump.
And Bay Bump that makes you famous, not the one where I get your sister pregnant.
Although many, many, many of your sisters and daughters are now pregnant.
*throws down smoke bomb*
Posted on July 27, 2010, in Character, Matt Loman, Movies, Pop Culture and tagged chicago, i'm hiding my love of michael bay really well, in character, Michael Bay, transformers, transformers 3. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.