| Damn |
[Apr. 10th, 2006|09:18 am] |
Well hello there Nurse Betty. Welcome to the Daddy's hospital room. Oh, I may look like a patient but believe me, I will be doing the healing in this room today. Come sit by the Daddy and let the Daddy take your temperature. Oh baby, it feels like you got a firey fever. The only cure is the Daddy. I'm afraid however that you are only going to get hotter before you cool down. Oh yes my white-dressed burrito of ecstasy, Dr. Daddy has all the medicine you need. I know that you have been waiting for this moment. I am sure that your eyes have gazed upon the Daddy daily as he lay here in his sexified coma for the last 5 months. Oh baby, it was not a coma, it was 5 months of dreaming about your ovaltine thighs.
What is that? You want to know how the Daddy found himself in a coma? Well, while fighting with the ABK over in Noseksistan, the lovey ladies over there were overwhelmed with the bountiful eroticalness of the Daddy. Normally the Daddy can hold his own (but you can hold it too) with multiple ladies, but alas, an entire country of lustiful coffee cakes all trying to knock boots with the Daddy at once may have been too much. The ladies were fighting for the Daddy and unfortunately the Daddy found himself buried beneath a bevy of buttermilk biscuit breasts. The lack of oxygen caused the Daddy to fall into the delicious coma.
But my cheesecake of love, the Daddy has awakened for you. Some come over here and tell the Daddy where it hurts. Because the Daddy has the cure to make all your pains go away. Take one boot knockin' as needed. Now open up and say oooooo for the Daddy.
Love,
Daddy Jackson |
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| damn |
[Oct. 10th, 2005|01:59 pm] |
Oh my sweet pumpkin pie with whipped cream. The Daddy is sending you a covert message from behind the lines. You see, certain political figures are threatened by the boot knockin' goodness of the the Daddy. They are afraid that the Daddy will fall into the wrong hands and his sexified goodness will become a terrorist weapon. But we all know that any hands that fall upon the Daddy are good hands. For even the most evilest of appendages are transformed when they befall upon the Daddy's gyrating rhythms. Like the soft gentle touch of Ike Turner, the Daddy's skin will caress and calm until you are apple butter on the Daddy's warm bagel of love.
But fear not for the Daddy, for he is a true American. The Daddy is sharing his gyrations with the government to create the ABK, that is short for the Army of Boot Knockin'. The ABK will go out and defeat the evils of the world armed with satin sheets and a mixtape featuring the finest sexified artists such as Lionel Richie, Peabo Bryson, and Aaron Neville. In the case of extreme emergency, the ABK will employ the greatest hits of Barry White. We all speak different languages, but when the lights go down and the musk incense is burned, you know exactly what the Daddy is saying. Yes the ABK will be warming the frozen lands of Siberia and moistening the deserts of the Middle East.
Ask not what your country can do for you, ask how can your country do you. Cause the ABK will do you right. They have been trained by the most sexified boot knocker to ever rock the waterbed.
Love,
Daddy Jackson |
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| Like Smokey said, "DAMN" |
[May. 19th, 2005|12:13 pm] |
Come hither to the sounds of the velvet muskiness of the Daddy’s melodic voice. You may perhaps be familiar with the Daddy’s musical magicness already. Yes, for the last three months the Daddy has been touring the tri-state area performing the great hits of one Mr. Smokey Robinson. Why my sweet rutabaga rumped mademoiselle, I see a look of surprise emanating from those delectable eyes. You did not know that the Daddy was a Smokey fan. Well the Daddy has been a fan since the Miracles debuted a song specifically about the Daddy. It should not surprise you that Love Machine is inspired by the pursuits of a young Daddy.
You see, when I was a young boot knocker, I would often frequent the clubs so that the ladies would enjoy the pleasure of dancing with the Daddy. Medical doctors from Boise have documented the highly pleasurable sensations that derive from movin’ and groovin’ with the Daddy. One evening, the musical treat was the sexified Smokey and his miracles. Well, normally, a group such as them would be swamped with a bountiful buffet of beauties afterwards. However, the presence of the Daddy caused the ladies to migrate towards the Daddy. Mr. Smokey was so impressed with the sexual presence of the Daddy, he wrote a song.
I'm gentle as a lamb
I'm not that hard to program
There's no way that you can lose
Chassis fits like a glove
I've got a button for love
That you've got to use (push it push it baby)
If you look into my power
I am sure you can find out how
To turn me on just set my dial
And let me love you for a little while oooooo
Words of beauty. Is there any doubt that it is the Daddy that Smokey speaks about? So to repay Mr. Smokey, the Daddy likes to tour around and sing his lyrical aphrodisiac. Many a sassy lass has swooned as the karaoke man introduces the Daddy. Yes, the Daddy’s magical voice may make you weep with the tears of a clown, but I second that emotion that oooh baby baby, the Daddy will knock your boots right. |
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| Damn |
[Mar. 15th, 2005|11:11 pm] |
| [ | How my baby make me feel |
| |  musky | ] |
Greetings my pomegranite of love. The daddy would like to make up
for his absense by offering you a greeting of musky manliness.
Knock them boots here.
Love,
Daddy Jackson
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| damn |
[Oct. 12th, 2004|08:29 am] |
Greetings my autumn pot-roast. It is the fall time of the year. This is the Daddy’s favorite time. It is the time when the temperature falls into the chilly portion of the thermometer. You may start to shiver, but the Daddy is here to warm you up. Slide those pumpkin buttocks over Daddy’s way. Combined with Daddy’s spice, that will make a fine pie. And you know the Daddy likes the pie. Serve it hot with a dollop of whipped cream on top. Wash it down with a steaming cup of cider.
Perhaps the autumnal weather will bestow upon us a fine day for walking. The Daddy will take you by the hand and together, we will explore your fall foliage. However, when raking through some fine foliage, it often becomes damp. The Daddy recommends you equip yourself with a fine pair of boots. And if we get lost in the woods, we can signal for help by knocking those boots. I remember a saying papa daddy (RIP) used to say. “If boots are knocked in the forest and there is no one around to hear, are those boots still knocked satisfactily?” Perhaps Professor Daddy should perform some experiments. You will be his lab assistant and we will experiment into the night.
There will never be any doubt as to the magic of fall and knockin’ boots, and the Daddy’s ability to warm up the freezingest of nighttimes.
Damn.
Love,
Daddy Jackson |
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| damn |
[Jul. 23rd, 2004|12:57 pm] |
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Mix tape of Rick James and Ike Turner, check.
Freshly pressed satin shirts, check.
Jar of jeri curl cream, check.
Tank full of gasoline in the caddy, check.
Suitcase full of boots, check and knock.
Oh yeah, the Racine High School class of 1974 is converging this weekend. Has it already been 30 years since the daddy was in high school? How time flies and boots knock. The daddy remembers when he knocked them boots for the first time. It was in the back of my father's 1969 Impala (RIP to the original daddy) after the prom. I remember what he said to me that night. "Son, here are the keys to the 69. Now I got the 8-track all cued up to play some sweet sweet Sam Cooke. I know you want to play that funk music, but son, knocking boots is an art. And ain't no son of mine going to knock boots like some amateur. You gots to caress the woman's yogurt thighs, nibble her chocolate kisses, and lick her like a fine cheese fondue. You are a Jackson, and tonight you will knock boots." Those are words I live by today.
My only regret about high school is that not all the lovely ladies got a chance to knock the boots with the Daddy. I know that many of them will be waiting for me in the gymnasium tomorrow night. The champagne will flow, the music will play, and the boots will knock.
Love,
Daddy Jackson
(my senior picture)
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| damn |
[Jul. 22nd, 2004|06:33 pm] |
mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmmm
Like tasty rhubarb pie.
You know what I'm talking about baby.
knock them boots rhubarb style.
Love,
Daddy Jackson |
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| Rock the boat baby. |
[Jul. 9th, 2004|12:58 pm] |
| [ | How my baby make me feel |
| | Piratey | ] |
| [ | Booty knockin' melody |
| | Good Ship Lollipop | ] |
Oh my sweet oyster of love. I can hardly wait to open your shell and find that sweet pearl inside. The Daddy gonna treat you right. And what better way to treat your sassy shell then on a romatic vessel of love. That's right baby, the Daddy gots himself a boat.
My trout of love, I'd like to introduce you to the SS Bootyknocker. The Daddy has come into possession of a sailboat. He has bespecled the stern w/ rich zirconian jewels. The sails are a fine purple velvet. The Daddy is a pirate and he's looking for booty. And after sailing upon your booty, the Daddy's mast is high and ready.
So come sail with the Daddy, let us float the mighty waters of the moistened seas. And the Daddy promises to dock his dingy all night long.
Damn.
Love,
Daddy Jackson
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| Summertime, and the lovins easy |
[Jun. 18th, 2004|01:29 pm] |
Damn baby. The Daddy sure does love the summertime. Summertime means lots of ladies showing off their freshly tanned bodies. The Daddy likes to go down to the beach and gaze upon the lovely ladies. It's like looking at a sea of caramel popsicles. And the Daddy is ready to lick every single one of them. Oh yeah, it's summertime and the Daddy is the Ice Cream man. Ding ding goes Daddy's bell.
Now it's been pretty quiet in Daddy's den of ecstatical love. The Daddy has been sad ever since his baby done left him. Now this fine lady did not leave the Daddy for another man, unless you count the good lord Jesus as another man. See, my baby rode that big caddy up to heaven. My baby was trying to impress the Daddy. She decided to paint a big sign on a billboard that said "My Daddy Knocks the Best Boots." Well unfortunately she slipped on some paint she had spilled and went tumbling down to the ground. She did not pass on yet, she just broke her legs. It was being eaten by a rabid pack of porcupines that did her in. It broke the Daddy's heart. The Daddy has been sitting in his den of love crying into the soft satin sheets where my baby's soft chocolate buttocks once layed. But the Daddy is better now. I still miss my baby's sweet lovin', but I know she would want me to go out and knock them boots. And knock them boots I will.
So to all the fine ladies out there, I beg you to not fight over the Daddy now that he is available and free. There is more than enough Daddy for all of you. The Daddy has knocked many boots in the past and will continue to knock them boots some more. I know that my baby is up in heaven watching over me while Mr. Ray Charles sings her a song.
Love,
Daddy Jackson |
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