Is Tom Brady The Shawn Kemp Of Football?

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up under the father of the next generation.

I have a dream that on the beaches of Brazil the children of Moynihans and Bundchens will break bread together wearing skimpy bathing suits.

I have a dream that one day even the state of New York, a state sweltering with hatred for the Patriots, will welcome the spawn of their quarterback.

I have a dream that my own children will be judged on the content of their character and not because they weren't fathered by Tom Brady.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that every instance of intercourse should be blessed, that every contraceptive device should be bypassed, that barren wombs will be made fertile and fertile wombs be bathed in Brady baby batter.

Let Brady procreate from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let Brady procreate from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let Brady procreate from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let Brady procreate from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let Brady procreate from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let Brady procreate!

(With really the sincerest of apologies to Martin Luther King)

Comments

[Scrap]

That (sniff) was (sniff, sniff) beautiful (honk!).

[Signal to Noise]

(golf clap)

[The Feed]

Feels like the slow clap of every teen movie as I walk across the gym, humiliated but redeemed by the sarcastic applause of the cool kids.

[extrapolater]

Everyone's wondering why Tom didn't wear a condom. Duh... because he doesn't want to go to hell, people! The pope will send him there!

That was great, though.