At this point I had enough. I felt like full on Matilda at this point. I had the power to do otherworldly things, and I would not sit idly by while a God fearing Christian like Carson Wentz was dragged through the gutter. So I unleashed my first prophesy.

It started here. The rip in Carson’s Wentz’s ACL was still fresh when Dave was lighting cigars. At this moment I felt a Harry Potter-like strength coursing through my veins. I hearkened back to days like the one where Gordon Hayward got hurt, a day when I was already wearing my dancing shoes. Yet I slipped off those shoes and refused to dance on Gordon Hayward’s grave. Because I knew it was wrong. Dave, on the other hand, knew it was wrong to dance on Wentz’s grave. Yet still the tweets came.

That could have been a good place to stop. I had wielded my scary power of prediction. I am used to living in the milquetoast world of the in between, a PH of 7, not really offending anyone. But when someone like Carson gets bullied, I jump to their defense like a like-hungry celebrity defending a pimped-out pimply pre-teen who had a bad day at school. To me, cursing the Patriots 2018 Super Bowl chances was enough of a warning shot.

Alas. Dave kept going. Some people don’t know when to quit.

I had, HAD to defend the defenseless.

Too far? Everyone tells me Dave doesn’t have a soul. Is it beneath me to stick a pitchfork in to see if it hits anything solid? Absolutely not.

The reactions, however, were palpable.

Wow, it was almost like I had kicked a guy while he was down or something. It doesn’t feel good does it?

Unfortunately I couldn’t stop there. Frankie called me into the radio within minutes of the tweet. My only option was to put a curse on Dave. Like how Lil B puts curses on people. Same kind of deal. Dave is cursed now.

That’s right. I marched right into that radio studio and put a curse on Dave. Arms extended and everything.

KFC tried to warn me that he had already tried putting a curse on Dave. I responded that, with all due respect, KFC’s curse came from a loser place and I was a two-time battle rap champion. So it’s a battle rap curse? Yep. It’s a battle rap curse. It’s December 11th and I have put a battle rap curse on Dave Portnoy. Everyone is asking me what the bounds and perimeters of the curse are. Let’s just say you’ll know them when you see them. Some of the repercussions might even be retroactive. Curses, when you do them right, are weird like that. Just know, the curse has been placed. And it’s on.