I’d do as many drugs as humanly possible.
I would adopt a cute puppy and name him Pattycake.
I would write any number of federal prisons and ask if they get DirectTV in HD with Sunday Ticket.
I would advise little children against having friends who call themselves P-Funk.
I would change my nickname from Ookie to Ickie (as in I feel really Ickie eating soggy cabage and cornmush).
I’d accept the 1.2 million dollar offer from the Nigerian diplomat who died suddenly without next of kin and who needs my bank account number in order to wire me the funds– immediately.
I would see if the Arizona Cardinals want to sign me for a 2-year deal as their starting QB 5 years from now.
I would send Roger Goodell an “I’m sorry I lied to you” fruit basket.
I would send Arthur Blank an “I’m sorry you couldn’t get me out of this thing too” bouquet of white roses.
I would write Rex Grossman and tell him now that he has some free time, to come visit me between the hours of 10 pm and 6 am.
I would go see Bambi to improve my public image, but try not to laugh when Bambi’s mom gets shot.
I would make a public statement to all my remaining supporters out there wearing my #7 jersey, saying: “Thank you for all your support. But stop. You look ridiculous.”
I would make a guest appearance at the next ESPN special town meeting and insist they have a dunking booth in which I would spend the next several hours as audience members took turns throwing beanbags at the dump lever.
I would see if there was a prison equipment manufacturer that needed a spokesperson with good name recognition.
I would count my blessings that I wasn’t on the NFL disability plan (being in prison is better).
Question is, what would you do . . . if you were Michael Vick????
