Leading up to the draft, well be giving you exclusive inside access to the war rooms of various teams across the league. Today: the Dallas Cowboys. Assistant: Well, I think the war rooms all set, Mr. Jones. Jerry Jones: Wheres the heckin easel? Assistant: The what? Jones: I need a heckin easel! Have you never been in a meetin, Jennifer? I need a big heckin easel to write all my ideas down. Assistant: Okay Jones: And I want three different kinds of Sharpies. I need a red Sharpie, because whenever I get a really heckin big idea, I like writin it in red. That way, everyone pays attention to it. Then I need a green Sharpie for drawing pie charts. Then I want one of those markers that writes in shiny gold ink. Its kinda like gold leaf, know what I mean? Assistant: I think so. Jones: Well, I want a crapload of those. Because I like goin through all my big heckin ideas and then putting a gold star by the ones I REALLY like. Like if I say, Hey, what if we trade up to get Calvin Johnson? I wanna be able to star that little sumsnitch. In fact, write that down right now. Wade Phillips: Where do I sit? Jones: Shut up, fatty! You only get to talk when I pull this chain! You understand me! Wade: Yes, sir. Jones: I didnt pull the freaking chain. Dance, fat man! Dance! (He dances.) Jones: Ha ha! Look at that fat bounce all around! Jennifer, you can poke him with a stick if you want. Assistant: No, thank you. Jones: Suit yourself. Nothin finer than pokin a fat man! Now, I want place cards arranged around the table. And I want titles too! Remember my title? Assistant: The Boss Man? Jones: god**mn heckin right, I am. Son of a gun! Now, food. I want Einstein Bagels in the morning. Hey fatty, what do you want for lunch? You may speak! (pulls chain) Wade: Sandwiches. Jones: Wow! Arent you an incredibly creative mind! I never woulda thoughta heckin sandwiches on my own! Way to be outta the box! You stupid tub of lard. Lets get some fried chicken, and other assorted Negro food. Assistant: Sir, I dont think thats appropriate here. Jones: (rolls eyes) Fine. Well have Thai. Assistant: I meant the term "Negro", sir. Not the food choice. Jones: Ah, don't be such a tightass, darlin'. We love our Negroes down here in Texas. Now, be sure to order extra Larb Gai. Somebody always eats that crap before I can get a helpin! Assistant: Okay. Jones: Now, wheres the draft board? Wade: Oh, were using an electronic draft board this year, using Javascript. Jones: What?! Unacceptable. I want an old school draft board, with each players name and school written on a plaque that I can move up and down at my behest. It feels more God-like that way. Its like Star Wars, where they play chess with those tiny monsters. In fact, I would like little action figures of all 500 draft prospects, so I can make em fight! Make that happen! Assistant: Yes, sir. Jones: And I want the ESPN camera behind my right shoulder, so it looks like Im presiding over the room, which I am. Assistant: Yes, sir. Jones: And I need a bottle of Lubriderm close by, so that Ed Werder doesnt chafe my p**is when hes rubbing me down. Assistant: Yes, sir. Jones: Hey, fatty! (pulls chain) Wade: Sir? Jones: Did you figure out the conference calling equipment like I told you? Wade: I think so. Jones: Then lets call the ghost of Tex Schramm now and see if it works. Wade: You cant call ghosts, sir. Jones: Just heckin do it, Flubber! (one hour later) Tex: Hello? Jones: Good! It heckin works! Hey there, Tex! Tex: Can we hurry this up? I got another meeting in ten. Jones: You look here, you dead piece of crap! I spent an hour getting you on this phone. You arent going nowhere! I need you to help me compile my list of Surprise Draft Picks. You know, the ones no one sees comin. Tex: Ugh. Jones: And wheres the mechanical bull? Jennifer, take this list down Assistant: Yes, sir. Jones: We need a a mechanical bull, a LIVE bull, a 30 foot Tostitos banner, a 1950s style soda fountain, a pile of gold bricks that I can stand near at all times, a lifesize cutout for me for whenever I go take a crap, four mules, brownies AND blondies, ten crates of fresh cigars, a large cache of automatic weapons, Fiji water, a Bill Parcells lookalike I can shoot at, a mounted trophy of a mooses head, notepads and pencils for everyone, a bearskin rug, artificial stalactites that I can have dropped on people at a moments notice, a compass, one of those oversized beach balls, and a fresh cheese and fruit plate no one will touch. Got all that? Assistant: Yep. Jones: Now thats a draft room! Giddyfreakingup! found this on some blog, thought id give them credit for this funny butt crap Full Article
