Dear Plebeians,

First off, I would like to state that I am referring to you all as “plebeians,” because that is exactly what all of you are, in comparison to me. There is no possible way in hell that I am as common as everyday man, when you have the accomplishments and accolades that I do. With that out of the way, let me proceed.

Plebeians, I would like to introduce myself. My name is Tom Brady. I will also answer to Tom Fucking Brady, or Mr. Perfect. No, not that dead motherfucker who used to fake wrestle, but I am afraid that his dead, rotting corpse must bequeath that title onto me, for that is exactly what I am – perfect

 

Why am I perfect? Let me count the ways:

 

For those of you plebeians that have the audacity to not know who in the fuck I am, I am a professional football player – a Quarterback, to be more precise. The most important fucking player on the entire fucking team. I play football for the New England Patriots, a team which I have won three Super Bowl championships for. Before I came around, the Patriots toiled in mediocrity, led by some guy named Tempest Bledsoe, or something. And then best thing happened in 2001, when the Cosby Show was cancelled, and Tempest got hurt. I took over, marched us into the Super Bowl, and the rest is history.

That’s right, me, Tom Fucking Brady, led the once-lowly New England Patriots to the promised land, three fucking times. And I was the MVP for two of them, and would’ve been three if not for Affirmative Action kicking it, and forcing the league to award it to Deion Branch, some negro who caught the missiles I launched to him. Anyway, I’m pretty much on my way to doing it again this year, and for many future years to come, and there’s pretty much nothing anyone can do about it.

 

I also fuck and knock up famous women. I’ve been connected to (and in more ways than one), television actress Bridget Moynahan, knocked her up, and I’m currently fucking and have supposedly impregnated my current vessel, Victoria’s Secret model, Gisele Bündchen. How many of you plebeians can say that you’ve connected with the types of standards that I have? I thought so, you lowly mother fuckers.

 

 

I’ve decided that not only am I going to further cement myself as the greatest player to ever play sports universally, by winning enough championship rings to cover both my hands, my feet, the hands and feet of both my current bastard children, as well as my two babies’ mommas… I am going to break every record possible as well.

These three low-lifes also play or played football in the NFL. Peyton Manning. Brett Favre. Dan Marino. They are/were also quarterbacks, the same position as me. But they’re nowhere near as fucking good as I am. Between the three of them, they still have one less ring than I do. However, between the three of them, they still hold a whole bunch of records, that I intend to break and claim my own, and put out of reach for anyone else. It’s only a matter of time, baby.

Peyton Manning – midway through our playoff game last January, Peyton sold his soul to the fucking devil to give his Indianapolis Colts the inhuman power to overcome my team and I, and ultimately ended up winning his first and only ring against the fucking Chicago Bears, which is a team, which I owned earlier in the season right after Thanksgiving. Peyton also holds the single-season touchdown record, with 49. Bitch, I’m at like 21 after six weeks, and I’m on pace for like fucking 70 touchdowns. And once I break it, that’s one more reason for you be jealous of me, because we all already know that you’d give 100% of your endorsement dollars for a third of my success, half of the hunnies that I’ve fucked, and a fifth of the good looks I possess.

Brett Favre – it’s pretty obvious that he stuck around for one more year, so that he could make himself warm and fuzzy by breaking a litany of quarterback records. But it’s inevitable, that he will only succeed in keeping them nice and warm from when I inevitably fucking break them myself. By the time I reach Brett’s age, I’ll not only have all of his records, all of Peyton’s records, but I’ll probably have like 15 more rings, and seven more bastard children. But since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let Brett keep some things – like his all-time interceptions record, and his harem of cancer-ridden family plebeians.

Dan Marino – any positive record of his that hasn’t been broken by Peyton or Brett yet will ultimately be fucking broken by me, Tom Fucking Brady. He’s already a miserable commoner who never won it all, and has retired a bitter old fat guy who makes his living doing commentary for my excellence on CBS, and Weight Watchers commercials. What a pathetic career path for someone who once was considered to be half as good as I am.

I can also get away with playing for a New England team, and get caught wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. And no matter how much you plebeians hated me for it, you loved it when I threw five touchdowns against the Dallas Cowboys. My cock is down this way, minions, suck away at will, why don’t you?

 

I’m so fucking awesome, that I’m also the new Stetson man.

 

You low-lifes can make fun all you want, but I’m making millions of dollars and fucking hot women, for doing what I love most. So I think I’ll end it here, because I’ve got to record some sound bytes for the media that can’t get enough of me, and I have to schedule yet another trip to Disney World for my bastard children, after I win another Super Bowl.

Love,

Mr. Perfect, Tom Fucking Brady

P.S. I'll end this with no more appropriate way - some pictures of me doing what I do best, other than Bridget or Gisele - winning.