TWFE talks to William Clay Ford: 3 yards and a cloud of PFFFT!

It's been quite some time since TWFE last interviewed the owner of the Detroit Lions, William Clay Ford. With the Lions in the news for all the wrong reasons, I had the rare opportunity to chat with Mr. Ford recently. What follows is the transcript of our discussion.

The Wayne Fontes Experience: Hello? Mr. Ford? HELLO?!

William Clay Ford: HACK...ZZZZZZZZZ...Must bust the union...ZZZZZZZ.

TWFE: Uh, Mr. Ford? You awake?

WCF: SNORT...ZZZZZZZ...Archduke Ferdinand must die...ZZZZZZZZ.

TWFE: Mr. Ford? Hello? You alive?

WCF: DROOL...ZZZZZZZ...The Kennedy's are socialist bastards....ZZZZZZZZZ.

TWFE: Mr. Ford, the Dow dropped 504 points today!

WCF: ZZZZZZZZZZZ...THE WHAT? THE WHO? The Dow? The HELL you say? Jeeves, crank up the Flivver! Bring me my blunderbuss! We need to kill my stockbroker, pronto!

TWFE: Uh, the stock exchange has been closed for a few hours, sir. I'm sure he's left for the day. I'd like to ask you a few questions, can you kill him tomorrow?

WCF: Closed? But I'm a FORD, GODDAMMIT! I'm part owner of one of the most powerful companies in the world!

TWFE: Sir, Ford Motor is losing cash and market share hand over fist, and might have to go to the U.S. government for a bailout.

WCF: Bullshit! We Fords would NEVER go begging to those Communists in Washington! That town's been going downhill since Roosevelt was in office!

TWFE: FDR?

WCF: Who? Of the "bend me over and call me Nancy" New Deal? Of course not, boy! That other Socialist Roosevelt, Teddy! I'll show him some rough riders...Anyway, we'll just ramp up the building of trucks and those suvvies! Stick 300 horses under the hood, and they'll FLY out of showrooms, believe you me! Who in their right mind would buy a tinker toy Jap or Kraut car? What the fuck is a Datsun? A piss ant roller skate, that's what! Who buys cars with funny ass names? I know the auto marketplace, just like I know football! I own a team, you know. JEEVES! Where's my blunderbuss?!

TWFE: Suvvies? They're called SU...Uh, sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Ford. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your football team.  There's some problems back in Detroit.

WCF: God damn straight there's some problems in Detroit! It's full of darkies and socialists! My what?

TWFE: Your football team, the Detroit Lions. I wanted to ask you about them.

WCF: Well, why didn't you say so, boy! How's my boy Russ Thomas? Russ is so damn cheap, he could squeeze blood from a bumblebee nickel. He's my kind of GM! He isn't signing any of those commies or Yippies or Black Panthers, is he? HACK.

TWFE: No, sir. Matt Millen...Uh, I mean Russ...hasn't signed any White or Black Panthers to my knowledge.

WCF: JEEVES! SCOTCH ME! He better not have, or there's Hell to pay! I'd have to talk to Rozelle, you know, set things right. How is Pete, boy?

TWFE: Dead.

WCF: Good! Never liked Rozelle's commie ideas, anyway! Revenue sharing this, and parity that! Merge with the AFL he says! It's the future, he says! Bullshit! I don't want anything to do with those pass happy sons a bitches! HORK. I tried to buy NBC, just so I could yank those football anarchists off the air! Fucking GE got 30 Rock instead. The forward pass...PFFFT! Football is meant to be played 3 yards at a time, boy. A cloud of dust, and all. Who said that?

TWFE: Woody Hayes?

WCF: You know your football almost as well as I do, boy! Ol' Woodrow's a great American, yes sir! Took no shit from nobody, especially that Bo Shemmybencher character at that Communist enclave in Ann Arbor. How is Woody?

TWFE: Dead.

WCF: What about Shemmybencher?

TWFE: Dead.

WCF: Boy, you depress me. What the Hell did you want, anyway?

TWFE: To ask you about the Lions. You know, the Detroit Lions?

WCF: What about the Lions? I own them, you know. Make me a shit ton of cash, boy. A shit ton. JEEVES! My blunderbuss and my scotch! Chop, chop! And bring me a CUBAN! SNORT.

TWFE: Cigar?

WCF: Did I SAY cigar? Damn, can't find good help these days, boy. That's why I'm glad I have my boy Russ back in Detroit! He writes the best contracts. Did I tell you to get free agency, Ron Jessie had to give me his first born, his right nut and a blow job, just because Russ put that in his contract? Brilliant!

TWFE: But what about the team today? They are 0-2, and are the worst team in the NFL.

WCF: And? Is Tiger Stadium filled up every Sunday? JEEVES! Make it a NICARAGUAN instead!

TWFE: Cigar...Nevermind. They play at Ford Fiel...Um, the last 7 years have been sellouts, Mr. Ford.

WCF: You know how much my football team is worth?

TWFE: Forbes says it's north of $800 million.

WCF: You know how much I paid for the Lions? HUUUUR.

TWFE? $4 million?

WCF: HACK! I paid that much? What was I thinking? Must have been the cheap scotch. Who knew? Anyway, that's an ROI of...of..Hell, that's a shit ton of cash, boy! JEEVES! I'm tired of talking! Get this...this..who the Hell are you, anyway?

TWFE: I'm a Detroit blogger, Mr. Ford.

WCF: A bogger? What the fuck is that?

TWFE: I write for the internet.

WCF: The inter-what? You're making this shit up! JEEVES! Get me my blunderbuss so I can get Mr.Bogger of the inter-what out of my house! HUUURK. Scotch, dammit! And a JAMAICAN!

TWFE: I'll see myself out, sir. No need to get up...or use your gun.

WCF: JEEVES! I need my...my...my...ZZZZZZ...Daddy said Hitler was right...ZZZZZ...DROOL.