Functionally ReTodded

You all may be wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything.  I know you’ve been crushed and bored out of your collective skulls, especially the madsapper, and have been worried sick about what was wrong with me or where I’ve been.

After weeks of introspection, reflection, soul-searching and, to be painfully honest, rigorous and frequent masturbating while crying, I have an announcement to make:

I am the father of Jamie Lynn Spears’ baby.

I know it’s shocking to hear at first.  I am, by all accounts, a happily married man.  My wife is awesome.  My kids are great.  I have a super house, great friends, an awesome job, and everything in my life is going well.

So why would I put all that in jeopardy?

It’s quite simple really.

Money.

 

See, Mother Spears (as she requires me to call her) and Jamie Lynn are aware of two things:
1)      Britney’s nonsense is overshadowing the younger Spears’ career and personal life, and

      2)      Jamie Lynn is a coon-ass Cajun and as such, she and Mother Spears realize Jamie Lynn isn’t getting any younger.  Pretty soon she won’t even get someone as awesome as me to mount her if she don’t get to breedin’ soon.

Anyway, I got a phone call from a throwaway phone asking me to hop on down to Kenner, Louisiana.  It was a slow day and since the kids were bugging me, I figured “Why not?”

When I arrived, they were immediately putting on the full court press.  It seems that they had seen my daddy blog and realized that I make bee-yootiful young un’s (unlike those two turds that Britney and K-Fed hatched), and they needed to get Jamie Lynn on the baby train and some magazine covers pronto.

Now, before you ask, yes, I know she’s only sixteen.  But it’s not illegal for adults to have sex with sixteen year olds in Louisiana.  Hell, they can even be kinfolk.

But no, I didn’t de-flower little Jamie Lynn.  Apparently that had already occurred in some dressing room in an awkward 45 second slap and tickle fest with that douchebag they’re showing on all the magazine covers now claiming to be “her boyfriend.”

When I arrived in Kenner, I was escorted to the classiest of sperm banks.  If I recall correctly, the place was called “Mother Spears’ Jerk n’ Spurt.”  I was shown the highest quality volumes of animal porn and drunken cousins doin’ it, made my deposit, and was escorted thru the back exit to a limousine and then taken back to the airport.

On the tarmac in front of Britney’s private jet (I knew it was hers because there was a picture of a giant doughnut and some Marlboro Lights on the side) I was handed a check for some amount that I will not officially confirm, lest I be tracked by the IRS or Homeland Security.

Anyway, I’m not proud of myself, but the money was good, the food was awesome and now, I expect Entertainment Tonight, TMZ and all the rest to come beating down my door with blank checks for my story.  I mean, it worked for Howard K. Stern and that other dork Larry what’s his name what got Anna Nicole’s baby…right?