Misty Hyman proves God exists 

I’m working away at my computer. Comin’ up with that off-the-wall hardcore stupidity that yawl love. Keepin’ it real for my Hogstaz. That’s when my girl interrupts me. My loving bim. But she should know better! She knows the rules. Never interrupt me when I’m throwin’ down comedy unless it’s for food or sex. So as she starts her hollering, my blood starts to boil. Cuz I know damn well she wasn’t wearing an apron or dressed up in that nurse outfit I got her. 

Ooh this better be good. If she’s about to nag me again to take out the trash I’ma go ballistic! “What do you want WOMAN?!” She says, “The Olympics are on.” 

SO?!!!!!!! Who gives a New York City Rat’s ass about the price of slave labor in China! I don’t give a damn about the Olympics! Holy crap, the Olympics are a bunch of “sports” that are too boring to be on TV any other time. But every 4 years we act like we’re actually interested in watching guys in tight one-piece suits swing around like monkeys on uneven bars. Who cares?! All I want to see in the Olympics is America whoop ass in basketball and maybe fantasize about some under-nourished flexi-bim stretch her legs over her head in the Gymnasty event. 

The only reason to watch the Olympics is for shots like this. But sorry nubs, this flexi-bim is not going to be jumping YOUR pole anytime soon.

But my chick is like, “No, you HAVE to see this.” So I peel my fine apple of a heiny out of my chair and head into the living room to see the TV. Now I knew there was a reason I got with this woman. Every so often she comes up with a comedy gem. And DAMN she came through this time! My eyes widened in disbelief when I saw the graphic introducing the next American Olympic swimmer. Misty Hyman. Holy tish! No, Holy Tish squirted straight out the Pope’s Dirty Doughnut! This was AWESOME! MISTY HYMAN! Oh my God! Comedy is slapping me upside the head. Vagina jokes are running through my head a mile a minute. This is incredible! (Note to vocab-handicapped nubs: the hymen is the part of a woman’s vagina that breaks when she is de-virginized. And misty means moist. Get a freakin’ dictionary!)

Damn! Misty Hyman! But here’s the thing. I can rip on Hyman (HA!) all I want, but no one will really know who I’m talking about unless she wins the Gold Medal. But that’s impossible because some Aussie was supposed to be an Aquatic super hero. The announcers were going on and on how this Australian bim was born in the ocean and was a mermaid, then she like cut off her tail so she could qualify for the team. Something like that anyway. No way Misty was supposed to win. Not until Big G intervened. See, I, yes ME, the Hogsta, am the reason Misty Schlitz, I mean Hyman, won the event. I was the one who prayed to God that she would win. Not that I cared if she won or if America won, but only so I’d have some prem-o material. If Misty Hyman wins the Gold, I can go off on a whole rant. If she loses, no one really cares. So I said, “Big G, please hook me up with this. Let the little Hyman win. I know it’s asking a lot. But I really need some inspiration for my web site.” And God said, “You son are not worthy of a miracle. I have inspired you with big doodies, and with majorly flawed political candidates. Why should I grant you this?” So I was like, “Dude, I can tell the world that you exist on my site if you make this happen. It would be like a modern day miracle.” So Big G understood. This would be the biggest miracle since Bill Buckner let Mookie’s ground ball through his legs. 

That's one happy Hyman! Do you realize that if she married Olympic swimming legend Mark Spitz, her name would be Misty Spitz-Hyman!!

This ain't a porn site, but here's a legit picture of a girl touching Misty Hyman.

God embodied as Richard Nixon. (Hover your mouse over Nixon to hear the voice of God.)  God retired in 1974.

Thus I have done what Descartes and all others could not do, I have proven God does exist! I have proven his existence with Hyman! Because of one Misty Hyman, we now know God exists. And some do say that Misty Hyman is in fact Heaven itself, but we won’t go there. 

So if you don’t believe in God, that’s cool, but realize that girls named Misty Hyman winning the Olympics don’t happen all by themselves. This is like when Moses parted the Red Sea. (A biblical miracle that really referenced his performing cunnilingus on a menstruating bim but has been adapted to a G-rated story for the kids.)

So Misty Hyman wins. Wow. Let’s think of the ordeals SHE’S had. These days everyone wants sympathy. Waaa, I have the fat gene. Waaa, I have asthma. Waaa, I can’t afford an SUV.  Waaa, my mom is a crack addict. Waaa—shut up! At least your name isn’t Misty Hyman! If your name ain’t Misty Hyman then you can’t complain about a DAMN THING! Only peeps who need to carry pee-bags or whose name is Misty Hyman can complain about life. Otherwise, deal with it!

Think about her childhood. Okay, usually the KIDS laugh at a funny name. But this name is so horrendous that even the TEACHERS had to laugh while taking attendance. “Um, is Misty HYMAN is here? <snicker snicker> I’m looking for a Misty Hyman?” Some kid shouts out, “Aren’t we all?!!!”

Daaaaamn. Her parents must have really hated her. Like, if you want an abortion, get one. But don’t take it out on your kid by naming her Misty when your surname is Hyman! Dad was like, “You know I didn’t want to have this baby. That’s it, damn kid is gonna ruin my life, so I’ll ruin hers! We’re naming her MISTY!”

And where were the Doctors on this? They should have stepped in here. The Doc who delivered their baby says, “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Hyman, it’s a girl! What would you like to name her?” 

“Um, we’re thinking about Misty.” Nooooooo! The Doctor should have sat the parents down and had a heart-to-heart discussion. Something like, “Do you realize the long-term ramifications of this decision? Do you realize that your last name implies a part of the female reproductive anatomy? Do you realize that the first name you’ve chosen, in conjunction with your last name, will amount to a short phrase that translates to: wet c*&$?”

This type of straight-talk was needed but didn’t happen! The physician should have broken it down like that, “On the real, do you want to name your baby, Wet C*&$ ? Do you realize that your baby’s name is also the title to a popular series of Adult Videos?”

But no. The Doctors, the State, the WORLD let Mr. and Mrs. Hyman put their child through emotional torture. Horrible!

So no, you haven’t gone through a damn thing. But Misty Hyman has! And she deserves her Gold Medal. I for one, was totally rooting for her. “Please win so I can have good material! Please win for me!”

I watched her with great anticipation. I dunno . . . before the race Hyman sure looked tight. But once she relaxed, she loosened up. She had a great butterfly stroke. In and out, in and out. Heavy breathing, but great endurance. No sign of over-stretching. She was on the pace and then suddenly—she just popped! She swam out to a nice lead and kept ahead of the pack, no one could touch her. Hyman was good. Or as the English would say, Hyman was bloody good. 

And when she finished her last lap victorious, Hyman was heaving, proud of what she had done. It lasted just two minutes and 5.88 seconds. But it was glorious. And for her first winning effort, she was rewarded like most bims who do it for the first time, with a big piece of Gold jewelry.

God Bless Misty Hyman and good night. 

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