Mandel's opening statement:
pauper- and by that I mean pooper but I do say I have slurred my speech a little too much because I had seven man-shares of the gentleman ale and fell into the deep south. We all gon' go fishin' with poles made from plant-life, the critters will bite if you jest get some good bait, bait from earth, earth my place from birth where I'm proving my worth to sustain this curse, a curse of the over-civilized who can't relate, relate to the fish bait cuz everybody has gone fishin, the daddy, the mama and the baby, he even gone fishin too.
Formal Complaint filed by lawyer Johnnie Cochran on behalf of Mandel
--to ask a half-breed to respond to a gentleman's challenge in kind is similar to asking an American genius to prove himself once and for all by taking a test in Cantonese. The playing field is not even, a dog of superior character will never beat the scuzziest of homo sapien in a game of monopoly, even if he can salvage his master from a burning building. At this point, my client, against my wishes and sound legal counsel has asked to propose a duel of his own. I must now yield to my client.
Duel Proposal by Mandel
Ya know what a gutentag is motherfucker? I think the word is kraut but as far as I'm concerned we're talking about some softened driftwood with scrap metal stuck into it for it be brandished as a weapon. SEWAGE FART. We each get the drift wood presented to us by my friend Cletundtrus and we git 1 hour to fashion our gutentag. The winner is determined by whomever gets the guts not leaked out of them in duel, a duel like this cept without all the biotch-padding. After that one of us is bound to have the advantage of not being almost dead so we move on to the next phase. Phase two gun be a good ol' fashioned poop contest cuz whether you rich or poor you still gotta dump. We get 18 hours to eat the most greasy, starchy, fiber-ous foods possible in hopes of laying the king deuce. Somethign like this will not even get you close to my colonic glory. In my shanty house by the swamp I have three toilets stacked on top of each other just to accomodate my droppings. You my amigre are fuck-ed. We can move on to phase three, which I'll defer to you: the gallon challenge. I say you can drink whatever you want, milk, water if you think that'll help, but my beverage of choice will definetly be what has always gotten me through hard times, raw sewage . After I am done with you in this duel you will be lucky to look this good . In closing as the educated lawyer folk end with, the press will be running stories about this event for years to come, until the union crumbles, and the inbred rule the earth. you sir, have been challenged.
Formal Closing by Johnnie Cochran
sorry for offending most decent monstro blog readers.
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