When I give the word, pull the lever, let the basketballs roll down the hillside. I'll be right here with my rifle, and I don't miss much. Time to see just how much Duck Hunter paid off; as a youth I always knew Duck Hunter was straight up training sessions for something, but I didn't yet know what I was training for. I don't like killing animals, but it's possible I desired to be a sheriff? I don't recall. But my name is Smith Holbrook, and all afternoon I've been blowing up these bounding, speeding basketballs. My nephew Jester has been releasing them from nets from atop the gorge; we communicate via walkie-talkie. I'm out at the Took, again, and I'm very hungry. Can a man just get some fettuccini Alfredo, one time? Just for fucking once, grant me a bowl of that good stuff, homemade. Chief. Untie the net, Jester. I love these walkie-talkies. Fickle game, fickle game. Kill a rattlesnake while you're up there, I'll fire up the grill.

My name is Smith Holbrook, and the NBA is how I make a living. But prayer is and worship is my calling. All this other stuff is just filler. I was born to worship, and report to you, Prophet faithful. But it ain't me, none of this is about me. I don't even know what I'm saying, I just hand whatever disillusioned sense of control over to the holy one. He’s the only reason I'm here, rifling these bounding basketballs and grilling up rattlesnake and asparagus. And if that makes you sick to your stomach, go buy a Nintendo at the Amish flea market. Go play duck hunt and eat your fettuccini Alfredo. That's what you are needin’, man. Yeah. Don't interrupt my prayer again, with your gibberish about ducks and knives. This is the role I was born to play, Prophet Nation. I'm having an “off-day.” It’s tough to contextualize my heart. Makes me sick. I love you, Prophet Nation. Our boys are famous and that’s that. They deserve what Our Lord has gifted to ‘em. Fruits from the Spirit, our boys are blessed. I'm just reporting straight, pure silver to ya like always. Yeah. I'm who God made me. Shakespeare wrote this monologue thingy for As You Like It: “All the world’s a stage, and it’s men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.”

This is utter trash, but Shakespeare meant well. I just want to praise and worship and sing and live fully and freely. Guess I'll grill fettuccini and sell some rattlesnakes to Fazolis. Rare commodities and fringe spares. I'm so glad April is over. This article may not have made it in time. Podcast, I mean. I love my Prophet Nation. I'm gonna love you, forever and ever. Forever and ever, amen. Quote by country singer. Pathetic song. Hugs. Smith Holbrook, if ya didn't know. I didn't. Nor do I care. It's Prophet Reporting. PULL!