Guestblogger: Samuel L. Jackson

Ladies, listen up.

I woke up this morning and my mojodar was going cuh-razy.  I don’t like it.

And I can’t have it.

I mean, dig it: as the official Earth Chapter Delegate for Universal BadAssMotherFuckertude, it’s my job to keep the moxie balance on this planet.  I mean, it’s my JOB, okay?  You don’t mess with a man’s livelihood.  That shit ain’t right.  People don’t get this, but my ass is sensitive.  I’m a badass BAROMETER, you know what I’m sayin’?  You can’t fuck with that.  That’s CHEMISTRY, baby.

The mojo level of this piece is my responsibility.  MINE.  So I’m gonna have to step in here and say to you bitches: SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT.  I mean, I’m sorry to address some fine lookin’ ladies such as yourselves so harshly, but this is a serious problem and I don’t have time for chit chat.  I’m Samuel L. Motherfucking Jackson.  Shit goes wrong, you gotta get it BACK, ladies.  You gotta get those snakes OFF your motherfucking PLANE, okay?

Check this.  Look in the mirror.  You ladies is fine.  YOU FINE!  AND you got brains, which is the jackpot of Fine Lady Tail Score, and that is fact.  So, WAKE UP.  Stop messing with my chi.  Stop making your lives so hard.  It’s UN-NEC-CES-SARY.  You’re foxy.  BE FOXY.  Get a motherfucking GRIP, people.  Your bikini body is out there.  It’s the one that says Bad Motherfucker on it.

DO THIS.  Don’t make me tell you again.  I got shit to do.