The Intoxicated Southern Man discusses the first four pictures that appear when you Google Image search Drew Gooden.
As dictated to Ballerball:
Don’t know whatall the fuss is ’bout. Looks like a strappin’ fella far as I’m concerned. Nice smile on ‘im. Clean cut enuff. Got some tats here an’ der but I ain’t one ta throw stones over sumthin like ‘at. I’s in Korea, ya see. Man done seen an’ had many a tat put on ‘im.
-Lifts flannel shirt sleeve to reveal a naked lady wrapped in a snake-
I’m serious, dough. Cain’t see a problim with him in this picture. Folks might oughtta lay off ‘im if’n they’d bothered by ‘at.
What’n Sam Hill is ‘at on his chin? Dem braids er sumthin? How many of em is er? One. Two. Three. -mumbles- Seven. Dadgum boy. Seven an’ a half. Dang near eight ‘a dem suckers. What on earth the kid thinkin? I sees whatchu was sayin now. ‘Ats a trip right der. Got some sideburns on ‘im too der. Lookin’ like he’s got tiny combs on da side of ‘is face. Is what it is, dough. I ain’t gonna hate on a fella for expression. Prolly thinks ‘ats art er sumthin. Good fer him. We’s all needin’ an outlet ‘a sum kind er anuther. Course, I could do without da tung. Stickin’ it out like ‘at. An he must be a fan ‘a rock n’ roll er sumthin. Fella prolly listens to sum Skynard. Ey! Hank! Put sum Skynard! Hank! Yo! Skynard, now!
I ain’t know he played for Dallas. Boy dun skipped around da league sum, ain’t he? Three pics an’ three difernt teams. Wearin’ a sleeve er or whatever they’s called. What’s ‘at fer anyways? Ole Iverson wore one of em an’ then the whole kit’n’kaboodle starts a’wearin em. Whatever. I ought put me one on. Start to mixin’ folks. Drive the lane. Up n’ unders. Three!
Whatcher shoes ‘er fella. I cain’t control ‘ese hands when I get a’few in me.
What’s ‘at one flick with that Borat fella in it? He’s in charge ‘a stuff er sumthin? S’posed to be based off Sadam or ‘at Korean fella? Dick-Tater! Yes! Thank ya kindly. Yea. Looks like ‘at guy. Quite a beard on ‘im er. If I ain’t mistaken, dough, ‘ats a Cavs jersey ain’t it? Geez. Ole boy cain’t stay in one spot. Beard thick, dough. Thick like this lager here. Speakin’ of.
-downs rest of beer-
Hank! Ey! Hank! Gimme ‘nuther.