I've got a special offer, Mr. Shawty.
Nah! Blow on it. Nah!
Other worthies include:
The Ex-Sen. Roland "Tombstone" Burris School of Politics (with no snacks) and the Chicago Public Schools system for sending a mass email to parents that included a Web link to a porn site. Nah and Nah.
Some want President Barack Obama to win the Commander McBragg Moutza. But don't worry, Mr. President. You'll never get a Moutza from me.
You've bragged that you're some kind of big skeet shooter, Mr. President, though your press secretary won't say for sure. How dare he not back you up. That aggression will not stand, man.
Give that smarty-pants press secretary a presidential Moutza. And shoot all the pretend skeet you want, Mr. President. You're the leader of the free world.
And what of the Baltimore Ravens' Ray Lewis, who stands accused of trying to rub deer antler spray on his damaged arm muscles. It allegedly contains banned substances. Lewis isn't talking.
But Lewis sure talked plenty in his Old Spice commercials. In one spot, he put Old Spice on his chest, and six evil Ray Lewis heads sprouted from his shoulders. The Ray Lewis heads sang in demonic harmony and breathed blue fire.
Six extra evil heads, and he never fully explained it. So, Ray? You're old school and all, but still: Nah!
Now we come back to Big Jim.
Most taxpayers figured that like other inmates before him, the crooked former Gov. Ryan would spend at least a few months in the halfway house before finishing his sentence.
But Ryan was sent home to Kankakee, without an ankle bracelet.
A Bureau of Prisons spokesman said this was not special treatment. Big Jim said so, too, with hardly a smirk.
"I think it was a wise decision by the Bureau of Prisons, but it's not something I asked for, it's not something he asked for," Thompson said. "So it is in no way preferential treatment."
Of course you didn't ask for it, Big Jim. And naturally, it's not preferential treatment when a crooked Illinois politician gets what looks like preferential treatment.
So I know you'll understand as the entire state limbers up our fingers, and we take off our shoes and socks. Palms forward everybody. Point those feet, too, for a fearsome quadruple Moutza.
Nah! And Nah! Nah again. Take it. Blow on this, Big Jim. Nah!
Mr. Thompson and the Bureau of Prisons: You didn't ask for it. But you've earned January's big Moutza.
Oh, and please have another.