I dropped the news the week of last About a role to which I was cast And in my haste moved right on past The type of info one must have'st The play will run from September thirteen And to keep things nice and neat and clean To the same day in October, that being thirteen Unless the crowds are large and fun Then they'll add a week to the run And October twenty will it be done The venue is in my home town That's of course Omaha so come on down And watch me act just like a clown On a stage where many talents will abound It's not too far from good ole Mizzou So Kev and Wooldog my questions for you Will you have time for a looky-loo Can you come to a show, see what you can do And yes Kyle, you're invited too KLUBYE, and make sure you tell a Raider a day to suck my butt. PS, This was more challenging than I thought it would be The venue is the Omaha Community Playhouse if you're coming to see

It is now official and it is sad We say farewell to the All Pro center we had His 1,572 straight sackless snaps were no mere fad Dang that faulty ticker in our dear sweet giant lad My question this week, if I may ask Who do you feel is best suited to the task Of snapping the ball to our hero without a mask And whom is most likely to help us raise our victory flask KLUBYE and do you know what The Raiders can suck my... suck my... suck my butt

"We all have moms." señor Kev Huggin doth state And "My palm tree's been fluffed and does look great." Then "Family, Football, Podcast. F the green screen mate!" "Our show is all love, quit trying to bring in the hate." The schedule release from the team was pure fire If you claim it was lame then you sir are a liar The fate of the Raiders and Joe Burrow seems dire Did they portend that Russell Wilson is a crier? No worries my dear Wooldog, I'll not wreck your day I'll end my rhyme now, though there's much more to say A question of Kevin, that Coach Kyle I pray ask The job of tree fluffer, for whom is charged to that task K Luv U Bye and F the rest of the west in a Ghostface mask

Is it a bird, is it a plane, NAY, it’s a Chark Not the oceanic meat muncher good sir, that would be a shark And though he may fly like a bird, he’s no lark But the speed he brings when healthy could provide quite a spark   Coach Lal’s room was so empty that if you spoke it would echo After disaster hit us hard and we forgot to pay the gecko So what did we expect, a reimbursement checko?!?   WAIT, what is this? What has happened with this group Did this staff turn humble broth into soul saving soup? Please someone tell me that we’re not being duped What once was pure caca may now be mere poop?   Can we carry 7 or 8 or 9? Will we be cutting some studs who will find A team that will give them a place they may shine Who saw this coming? Maybe your ass but not mine Is our receiver room now going to be fine?   K Luv U Bye, Oh and don’t forget your P’s and Q’s F the Faider’s, the Chef’s and the Donkey in groups of threes or twos (whatever floats your boats, that’s between you's and you’s)

I’m bored I’m bored I’m bored Wait! Where’s my iPhone chord? I’m bored I’m bored I’m bored You had Randy Jackson sign your sword? I’m bored I’m bored I’m bored Is that a zucchini? Or a gourd? Oh yeah…. Ummm, are you guys bored?

Ye ole commit-tee for the Hall did GREATLY fail They should be commit-ted and banned and thrown in jail For clearly their snobberish antics are beyond thy pail Just as their spineless rhetoric and retorts are growing quite stale   The folks within those hallowed halls full of greats With bronze busts of heads and etched in brass name plates Shall be wildly searching the bottoms of their crates But alas they’ll find NOT the dome of sir Gates Those fools should feel shame as they kick thine own asses And quickly go check if they do need of new glasses For only a fool who’s as dense as molasses  Would think Hester and Johnson should be what this class is Alas I digress as complaining is useless  So a question I’ll ask of our trio of muses What is thine favorite of the tailgating juices  K LUV U BYE, FTR YO! DEUCES!!!

When I knew my hairline could grow no thinner And as they were dialing my next of kin’er Someone done stopped that damned old spinner On “Winner… winner… chicken dinner!” Something went wrong it surely did seem And then we learned and our pants we did cream "Coach Harbaugh is ours!!!" we shouted and screamed  Like McHomes when he cry's that the refs are so mean Now for the query of my favorite 3 guys, Who’s more excited, between you and I? Don’t even f’n try K LUV U BYE!!!

The Chiefs did win and that sucks no doubt “Damn you Ray Finkle! The laces were out!” So it’s another week of seeing Patrick about “Dempsey the McDreamy?” Nay! Mahomes the McPout And still no word on the coach that we’re craven So we rally behind the Harbaugh that’s a Raven And hope that it’s faces alone that are shaven and not points on the board if ya know what I’m sayin. Now for the quiere that I always leave out Who of the four that remain will win out? K luv you bye  Over and out

The season is over, it seemed so brief  And all that’s left now is to play the Chiefs They who are resting the one who does queef And runs like some Caca is filling his briefs As he whines and he cries to the refs when he speaks This rhyme I’ve penned BEFORE our last game The one that will be played by... what’s his name Yet prevail we will I boldly proclaim  Am I a prophet? Nay you twit, that shit is lame But know well my friends, once Monday has came (Get your mind out of the gutter, the SHAME) Our Boltfam vibe won’t be quite the same Our mood will be blue and that’s a shame  So we’ll refresh and refresh and refresh again The news feed page for ESPN Hopeful to learn that our powder blue men Will be riding into battle, thanks to a few strokes of the pen With the coach we most covet and pay millions passed ten We shall rejoice!!! proudly bolting the fuck up once again  As I close out this rant, and let this rave end I contemplate how much time I might spend  Watching the playoffs to see if the trend Of underdogs winning continues my friend  Perhaps the Browns might BEAT them Ravens? But most important, and sorry if I offend  I hope and I  pray for the Chiefs reign to end K luv U bye, until the next rhyme I send Oops, almost forgot, I can’t let this end  Without a question being asked again  It’s called ask Boltfam not “babble like a hen” So... what question should I ask dear friends… P.S. (no voice) Seriously though guys, I appreciate your relentless positivity. I personally needed it more than ever this season. Sorry for the tongue twisting poems Wooldog!!! They are usually drafted after I'm a six pack in and 2.5 sheets to the wind. I try to edit them later so they flow better and there aren't any spelling errors but that doesn't always work. I look forward to hearing all about what's happening in the offseason from my favorite source for all things Chargers. K luv u bye

Was this season a total fail That's a question for time to tell For now we grab our metal pales That contain our lunch's ... hold the kale For its back to work to seek that grail That's yet to appear in our tale Of fandom... WHAT THE HELL So now we hope the Wolverines prevail And the winds of change do reach the sail Of a coach whose college days are stale Whom we'd treat as a royal and gladly hail With piles and piles of fan written mail Answer our prayers and please don't fail Ye gods of football who's heights we'll scale So we can live at last our fairytale K luv you bye and can't you tell Am I certified fresh? NAY NAY NAY... I'm certified stale!

I thank ye friends for the words so kind Regarding the phrases I share through rhyme And I do confess they are difficult to find Especially after witnessing the heinous crime  Of allowing those fakers to whip our behind  And on a Thursday where all fans could opine How far from the greats our team lags behind  Yet, what can we do? Are we going to whine NAY NAY NAY you sniveling swine Our slates whipped clean so now it is time  To let our boys heal and see if we find The talent we’ll need next year at this time To make a strong push for our place in line  To the postseason and glory Devine  Sadly without Max Duggan's behind K luv you bye until the next time  And Fuck ye Ole Raiders with a spike soaked in lime

We just watched a match that rang so fantastic  That a memorial shall be made and wrapped up in plastic Then placed upon a shrine for the instantly classic  Wait… did my brain somehow just turn into plastic  Nay my grey mass has not gone spastic  Nor are my thoughts less malleable or elastic Yet I feel my guts are bloody right gastric  Did ye ask if my behaviors dramastic Nay you cotton headed ninny muggins!  I’m like being totally SARCASTIC  What fun I had planned with that word that was cast In the episode I watched, the one before last Once our thrashing of ye ole Donkeys had passed  Instead we must raise our dear flag to half staff And as we salute to the glory that's passed A question I shall give as one must be asked Rivers and Gates… can one surpass such class Well dag gum it no you son of a lass a K luv you bye is overdue alas and… (Would a quick FTR be too krass?)

Who be’ist behind this team’s state of malinger? He who’s known in Game of Thrones as “Little finger”? Or the one who's reputation calls them “The boredom bringer”? Wait?!? Does Drew Tranquil have a stinger Nay… nay… nay you caca slinger!!! As I’ve stated in a voice not like or un-like Klinger This win that counts… yet is still no joy bringer (Seriously ref’s, that hit his finger) Is still a W says they. Ye of undisclosed body mass singer I know… I know… this week, a question, of which I am a bringer Can we beat the Donkey’s…. Fuck yes!! and to ye olde Raiders and there fans a big middle finger K luv you bye and  “Does anyone still watch Jerry Springer?”

We lost a close one again and that’s crazy And though the details of the game are somewhat hazy Be there no doubt that the refs flag arms were lazy (Except when it helped the team in black and purple paisley) Yay the outcome doth smartly impale me As ye ole doubts of fandom do assail me  Whilst I cry in my Ale that is paily   Yet Shall I suffer this week feeling greyly I without a doubt shall hear daily About how we should fire our coach good sir Staley And to all that noise I still shout NAY YE!!! Nay dear friends say me I shall continue belief until the day that we Are mathematically removed by them in Las Vegee And til then shall I BOLT THE FUCK UP gayly!!! K luv you bye YAYHEEEEE

The kick is up... and it's FUUUUU*****! How should I feel after this epic bout I want to scream and stomp and shout Then go to Twi...twi... Twi... X and pout Is it long past time this coach is out? Nay, nay I say and I banish thee to a time out. Our talented team should be oh so stout That nothing at all could keep are name out Of the winning column that good teams a spout Our loses are tough and hurt no doubt Yet the games are so close that the fans do shout The stats like the players are strewn about How many stars on this team stand out Sadly fair friends, much of our talent is out with the gout Yet here we all are standing proudly about In spite of the pundits who keep counting us out Week after week, still we resist all their doubts To each of them I say "Good sirs get out" As together we stand and United we shout Bolt the fuck up Over and out? (Punctuation makes this a question no doubt?) K luv you bye I proudly shout

(Whatever voice you choose my woolly friend) Tick... tick... tick... The game is over and somehow I don't feel sick? Could it be the costumes of the Brisquet Broad chick's Or the video from they that was oh so sick Could it be the Donkey ass that the Chefs did lick Or perhaps the Lions fan that's shitting a brick And sure to be humping a Faiders fans chick Once is concluded their Monday night's schtict Still I ask why, why tonight's win did not click Was it the field goals of the man named Dick er Nay, nay I say you pompous prick It's a question I'll ask and ask it quick... (Clears throat) Why oh why, once our wins been picked Won't our coach take heed and quietly stick The man of said name, that being Stick Into the game so he may play real quick Whilst keeping our Herb from getting new nics I say let this Stick play ball real quick And watch him move beyond the sticks Let us see if he can't score a surprise quick six Then let thine player who's named of the Dick's Complete his glorious day of sweet sweet kicks Whilest our hero's massaged well on his Nic's and his cricks And let him be prepared for the New Jersey hicks Oh yeah, Family, Trust, Respicts Big Red Bolsfan

(Christopher Walken) What was that thing that the picnic basket thieving bear once said? "It's like dejavú all over again" I keep watching my favorite pig skin posse go out into that gladiator arena with some of the best talent in all the land and yet allow their opponent to rise up and strike them down smartly. I keep seeing our men's momentum getting choked out by TE sweeps that are slower developing than a Raiders fan at puberty. I keep seeing our god of thunder and lightning getting smacked around while a Mr McMeowMeow the third forgets that his only job is to block but what he does is politely step aside for his friend mister pass rusher. My question is, how many times can we stand there and get stabbed in the eye with a soldering iron before we finally say enough is enough, put on our blue and gold big boy panties and start playing like we belong at the cool kids table? FTR, Bolt the fuck up and let's take this loss out on the guy who runs like he has cacca in his pants next weekend! K! Luv U! Bye!

Christopher Walken voice please What is going on here? I'm feeling all tingly and warm. I guess that Santa discovered that he had forgotten a few gifts that were left in his big red bag of tricks. Thank you Santa for delivering us a horse of a different color in one Nick Foles. I would also like to sincerely thank you for the finely wrapped interceptions and sacks that junior saint nick handed out for our boys on the defense. I am a tad bit disappointed in my guy Chris Rumph, who did get a little greedy and got back in line for seconds and took the last one before our guy Fehoko could get in there and finally show us the sack dance that I had asked him for all those months ago in this very forum. I hope Santa gave junior saint Nick a lump of coal in his stocking for that throw he made to his poor unsuspecting receiver, who, unfortunately, was in the path of an angry man among boys who was coming at him at full speed and with no stop in his heart. The way you did that was all wrong, it was the wrong tone and if you do it again I'll stab you in the face with a soldering iron... metaphorically of course. I think I'm going to go and lie down now and let my sphincter muscle relax for a while. It's been doing a lot of intense work this year and now that we've clinched a playoff spot, his work here is done. At least for the next few weeks. Family Trust Respect and okay, I love you bye.

(As a young millennial woman) What the whaaaat?!? Don't the ref's like totally know what an illegal forward pass is. Like, everyone is saying how amaze-balls that interception was but uh heeeelllooooo, he threw it to him and that was forwards for their team soooo..... yuh do the math! Anyways, my former bff like is totally crushing on Mr always a groomsman and never a groom David Carr right now because he beat the Patriots and put us in the sixth seed. I'm like Karen, losen up your scrunchy because your pony is way too tight, Mr vroom vroom didn't do ditally. The Pats decided they didn't want to win duh. I'd rather focus on how my perfect 10 made another magic ball get to where my favorite Dicker, ummm hmmm, the kicker, could blow my mind for the second time in three plays and not on how I had to gag through a game of wanting the Rai.... rai.... rai...... I just through up in my mouth, to win. Gawd I feel like such a slut now and should totally take a plan B and at least 5 scalding hot showers to wash that stank off of me. Thanks for drying out my skin you skanky pirates. Family, Trust, Respect

Will Ferrelll voice. Lately whenever I crash a Chargers game at other teams stadiums I've been getting asked if this was my place and I tell them "No, I live with my mom" What a stupid question right? I mean I had on Charger's Chat swag... duh, I almost nunchucked their asses, they don't even realize. Anyway, after crashing the Card's pad next up is the Pirate oven in LV where I understand the "always a groomsman and never a groom" David Carr was crying after his running back stole his win. What an IDIOT... oooh what a LOSER! Hold on.... HEY COACH, THE RUN DEFENSE, WE WANT IT NOW, THE RUN D! What is he doing? I never know what he's doing back there. But yeah, Carr should be too busy thinking about his cheerleaders to keep his upper head in the, after all grief is natures most powerful aphrodisiac. COACH! THE RUN D! FUCK!!! Anywho, we got road game this Sunday and your coming with but bring condoms. There's going to be so much pirate grief tail to be had! Family Trust Respect! KLUVUBYE