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Here’s my attempt on a remake of Chris Crocker’s Leave Britney Alone video. The parody is based on Michael Phelps’ marijuana incident.

How fucking dare anyone out there make fun of Britney after all she has been through!
How fucking dare anyone out there harasss Michael after all he’s been through?!
He lost his sponsors, he went through a divorce. He has two fucking sisters!

He turned out to be a user, a pothead, and now he had to apologize. All you people care about is… readers and making money off of him.

HE’S A GOD!!! (ah! ooh!) What you don’t realize is that Phelps is making you all this money and all you do is write a bunch of crap about him.

He has been performing in championships for years. He won 14 olympic gold medals for a reason, because all you people want is MORE! MOREMORE, MOREMORE!

LEAVE HIM ALONE! You are lucky he’s even swam for you BASTARDS!
LEAVE MICHAEL PHELPS ALONE… please.

The Federation accused him of having disappointed his fans, that he had violated the rules and should be suspended.
Speaking of disappointing fans, what’s worse then prohibiting their hero from doing what he does so great for everyone to see?!

Leave Michael Alone, Please
Leave Michael Phelps Alone! right now! I mean it!

Anyone that has a problem with him, deal with me because he’s got the munchies right now.

LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Not funny, so I wouldn’t bother filming it. Plus, dying my hair blond wouldn’t be good to my career.

If Life turns its back on you, it’s probably an invitation to sodomy.

While walking through one of the largest avenues in that town, he laughed. He was shoeless and his overly sized pants pratically dragged on the ground as he walked – sometimes fast and in a rush, and sometimes slowed down by tiredness. And while he walked he thought about all his path to that point where he had no more than a couple of quarters in his shirt point and happy to still carry a few cigarettes on him. He reminded of his past. The reasonably healthy living amongs with the parents; the girlfriend that loved and gave him the pleasure of coitus and felatio to his will. Getting to school everyday in his mother’s car, protecting himself from the cold with lots of jackets and blouses, skipping classes expendable to him thanks to his above-average academic capability. He thought of the money he would get every weeked without even having to ask, to be expended in junkie food, beer cans and cigarettes. He though of the plans he had, the amounts he would make, the colleges he intended to go to. As he walked sholess through that avenue with a lit cigarette in his mouth, one sneeker in his left hand, warmed up by the old gloves he still had with no one to be seen except for him, a few legal shoppers, plus hookers and drug dealers. Only him and his laughing, laughing to him self. He thought of his past as a promising young boy from a socially respected private school and he knew he couldn’t be better than now, shoeless and lonely on that large avenue, feeling the cold in his skin and smoking a cigarette.

I can’t believe in love myself
So I’ll fake it for someone else

“Wait! This isn’t what I ordered!” the lost last chapter of the bible.

The day she told me she was pregnant changed my life completely: new address, new job, new identity.

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