Again?

 Yes. Again.

I have to break it to all of you ONCE AGAIN, and it's all the fault of the UK because look at this horseshit here:

 

The search for British Bigfoot - The Face

You know what people, it's an island. A very crowded island. It's already chock skippy full of every single supernatural wazoolie there is. You have enough problems now that LIZARD PEOPLE Camilla and Chuck LIZARD LIZARD have been crowned and LIZARD are on the LIZARD PEOPLE LIVING ON THE BLOOD OF INFANTS British freakin' throneLIZARD PEOPLE FFS.  

    

HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DOES IT HAVE TO GET ? He's taunting you! Look at this shameless lizard bastard!      

Come on. Don't start claiming Bigfoot. You don't have room for Bigfoot. LIZARD PEOPLE JOE BIDEN LIZARD BOY SLAP FIVE.  

WELL FINE THEN MISS BOSSY, WHO IS BIGFOOT/SASQUATCH????

Well I will tell your ass. Ramp it back, geeze.

First of all, Bigfoot/Sasquatch = same damn thing.  Lives exclusively on the Northern American Continent.  

How am I so certain?  I grew up with Bigfoot. I mean, he didn't go to my grade school, right; but yeah. Bigfoot was a fact. All the older people in my neighborhood believed (and these are covered wagon, Great Migration folks from all over Scandinavia who got here and went straight to work up in the woods)  because they'd all seen the fucker.  Heck, they even believed in 'Little People' who were just, like, a foot tall and didn't seem to do much but be abnormally short.  And while our parents tried to laugh that stuff off, if you caught them at the perfect level on the drunkometer they'd tell their personal encounter with Bigfoot story too, and then yell at you. 

   

Here's what we knew. Bigfoots - yes, that's the plural, if you grew up in the Oregon School system - are between 7 and 8 feet tall, and are simply primitive cave people who decided they didn't want to be civilized. They just evolved differently because of the cold. So yes, they're just super-hairy naked people who live up in the mountains in caves and run around doing cave stuff, whatever that might entail. And everyone agreed - Bigfoot does not scream, yell, or yodel.  He whistles. Kind of like you might whistle while you were washing out your unmentionables or fixing the bottle capper on your model A.  Don't make me get out the Elk video again. Seriously don't. I'll do it. 

If you're out in the wilderness at night for whatever reason, and you hear something that sounds like a zombie hooting through a traffic cone?  That's AN ELK.  Don't go hooting back at it. An elk will come up and stab the crap out of you with its horns and then stomp your corpse into chunky rags. This shit happens. Elk suck.  Look it up. I won't give you a link. You're grown. 

TODAY'S BIGFOOT 

        

Our zeitgeist hero knows his ale from his porter and his arabica from his robusta. Drives a hybrid. Protects the environment. Picks birds out of the sky and eats them raw.   

He's the mascot of the 'Thang' up here in the PNW.  He's done his reps, and he voluntarily got a vasectomy after two kids. The guy still lives in a cave up on Mt. Hood, but he puts in his public appearances as Douglas Fir, the Trailblazers team mascot, and, you know, cashes his check and goes back to his cave.

Yes that's my fridge. Edith The Egg Lady keeps him company.

 In fact there are so many places, teams, businesses and tchotchkes that use his image that it's safe to say Bigfoot is not hurting financially.  This is why he continues to exist! He's SMART. It isn't all about the hiding and messing with people for fun anymore. He grew with the times and changed his approach! He's very adaptable. Mystery solved.

BIGFOOT MANQUE

This is our guy, though. This is Real Bigfoot.* He has been known to get buck wild.

       

 Meet the Jack Links Sasquatch! Uses that raccoon to wipe his ass.  

Once the Lexus LC is parked behind the cave, occasionally he'll get into the elderberries and decide to play up and pick on some poor holler dweller just for the sake of cussedness. He'll besiege you for a whole week of nights, throwing rocks at your house, breaking your windows, slinging trash around the yard, tearing off the siding, chasing chickens, smashing outbuildings, freaking out the dog, and tipping over the outhouse with you inside. - oh, and stealing your wife for a hot session back at the cave.  

She might come back, she might not.  If she does come back, she'll be knocked up, hence....

THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ARE RELATED TO BIGFOOT

No shit. This is a real thing. I heard this a few times back in Oregon, but more often here in Washington - up around Baker, Marietta and Lummi, out on the Peninsula, back by the Okanagan and around Highway 395 and Ponderay.  

There are just people out there who are related to Bigfoot. Just...average people. They aren't super hairy or anything. They're just related to Sasquatch.

Just average Pacific Northwest people accused of petty theft who are also related to Bigfoot.  

DO NOT MIX UP BIGFOOTS WITH STICK INDIANS

I knew you were going to so STOP. Stick Indians are altogether different than Sasquatches. First of all, they're magic.  Do NOT talk about them because it only attracts their attention and they just get ugly and mean; and pretty soon your kids are missing and your car is stolen and your tractor is missing both back tires and all you can do is stand there and say 'Fuck me running I should not have gone and on about the damn Stick Indians, look at this shit.'  The reason I'm getting away with it is because 1. Duh I'm typing, and 2. I'm not using their real name. 3e. You don't get to know their real name either. Ha.

Now there you go. To reiterate:  There are no Bigfoots in the UK. 

They have a Green Man but he's  made of leaves and his feet are size 9W UK. 

Not everybody can have a Sasquatch. 

Only cool people.

But you can have Jack Links delicious meat snacks!  Go online and get yourself an assortment!  If you can take the heat the Harbanero is awesome.  Even the weird flavors like Dill Pickle are super tasty.  To be absolutely fair, though, I should warn you - drink a good amount of water while you're snacking on this stuff because it is constipating. 

  Beef Jerky Protein Snacks | Gluten-Free Meat Snacks | Jack Link's (jacklinks.com)

____________________________________________

*Brian Steele plays the Jack Links Sasquatch to perfection.  He's a costume actor who's been all over the movies for years. He's even been a couple of different flavors of Predator, which makes him OK in my book.

About Jack Links:  The tagline is 'Feed Your Wild Side' and the premise is, Bigfoot has been messing with us for years, so when you feed your wild side, you are emboldened to mess with Bigfoot.  The ad campaign, oddly enough, is called 'Messin' With Sasquatch' and...it's pretty stupid humor, frankly. The popularity relies on their having put the time and effort into making a 100% spot on, frighteningly believable, Terry Gilliam-quality Sasquatch.  OH OK FINE here's a link:  (Jon won't be able to use it)

(15) Messin With Sasquatch Greatest Hits - YouTube

Cry all you want

 I am conflicted.  Seriously conflicted.

My queen of queens has been Shangela from the very first.  Mr. Pierce is a professional head to toe.  Now there's been an accusation of rape by one of the assistants from the show 'We're Here'.

I am way, way out of my lane when it comes to that world.  All I'm going to say is that I hope this turns out to be the shakedown that Shangela claims it is.  Shangela; no, I don't see it.  I just don't. 

Then again, I never saw Bill Cosby.

I'm always left wondering why someone with the world at their feet chooses the stupid option.  It's there for the taking - or buying, hell, you can purchase a scene as freaky as you like, and if it includes danger that can happen. In privacy. Out of sight of the public.  Yet time and time again otherwise sharp, professional people get caught doing backwoods shit that just makes you wonder how hard they secretly wanted to get caught. Like Hugh Grant. He had Elizabeth Hurley at his beck and call, yet he's busted getting a blowjob just off Sunset Strip from a trashy skank with the word 'Pancake' tattooed on her ankle.  The man can't have been so innocent that he didn't know about paparazzi, or the sheer inadvisability of roadside blowjobs on the most notorious stroll in America.

What do you think?

CBE, CH

 The other night I was up late trying to fix this thing I wrote about ten years ago and lamenting the fact that I'd released it into the wild before it was ready. Oh my God it sucked. Just really, really sucked on a Black Hole level of suckage.  So anyway there I am and it's eleven o'clock and I've got a YouTube playlist going. Up pops a song I haven't heard in fifteen years.

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, by Elton freakin' John. 

I sang every single word of that song without even needing to think about it.  Then I thought 'What in the sweet hell just happened?"

Now back in 1972-3 I was Miss Elton John Super Fan of America, the Moon, Mars and the Universe.  I had every single American release. I had bootleg copies. I had the soundtrack to 'Friends'. I had the Elton John poster where he's bare chested, mostly. 

Oooooo, my dad hated this poster. Absolutely hated it.    

I went to his concert and there opening for him was Kiki Dee (who had the music in her.  Boy, did she.  "Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free, Kiki Dee, set me free."  There was a full fifteen minutes of her singing that phrase. I hope somebody freed her, shit.)  

I embroidered an Elton John pair of overalls with lightning bolts and glowing hands of benediction and other ridiculous things on it, along with the initials 'RKD' done in silver beads. Yes, I wore it in public.   Well, there you go, right? I was a thirteen-year-old kid, so that was my job, to be embarrassing and do lame things.  My nickname might have been 'Reggie'.  I embroidered the back piece of a Levi's jacket with the 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' album cover, and made a little money from that; which wasn't bad for a Jr. High kid.  And then Caribou came out in 1974, and I was a freshman in High School, and I got over Elton. While he was doing his goofy pinball thingamaroo I was busy trying to get rid of my virginity. 

This is me being sexy in 1974: "Hi I read Tolkein  LETS DRINK KEROSEEEEEENE"    

So yesterday evening, just for shits and giggles, I found an Elton John Channel, and be ding-danged if I couldn't sing every single song from all the records I'd owned. I mean like even 'No Shoestrings on Louise' and 'Western Ford Gateway' and 'Amoreena'. 

Ha ha. That gets back my upstairs neighbor for rapping in the bathroom because I played it loud and I sang very badly. Take that, Shithouse Rhymes. 

Every couple of years I get surprised by Elton John like this. Fucker rings my doorbell and wants to come in and reminisce, and it's just not the same, dude; and he stinks up the bathroom. 

If you search 'Funny Toilet' you get this.  I've been laughing for five minutes because the first thing I thought was 'Elmo's seen some shit'.  ITS FUNNY DAMMIT      

What I mean to say is, one of Elton Johns' songs will come on the radio and I'll trip on how easily the words come back. 

If I'd known what a mental sponge I was back in 1972-3 I would like to think that I would have committed more useful things to memory, like the Naval Chain of Command, or how banking and investment works or something. But no. All I have to show for Jr. High is a battered sense of self-esteem and a head full of Bernie Taupin lyrics.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD    

From the Caves of West Virginia

1971 was the heyday of the sub-sub-tabloid press. Yes, we had the Enquirer -

HIT IT!     

We had the Enquirer those days...

We had string beans and onions,

The Tattler, the Examiner, 

The Globe and the Star,

Tomatoes, toMAHtoes,

And Sixteen, and Tiger Beat, 

People and Photoplay 

The Midnight and The Insider

And UFO's Are Real, and Fate,

but yes, we had no bananas,

And then came the Weekly World News!

Thankyew!  Now back to Blogging!    

The Weekly World News started publishing around 1978 or 79, when, for a brief while, all we had to satisfy our national urge to get stupider was the National Enquirer.  And even the Enquirer let us down!  After having been sued successfully by Carol Burnett, the Enquirer changed tactics and became the most accurate, reliable scandal source in the world! They had armies of lawyers and detectives, they had lines into talent agencies, security companies, psychiatrists' files, accounting firms, you name it. They openly solicited the public too - and they paid BIG. The Enquirer could be absolutely depended upon to get it first and get it right.

But aw geeze man, that was no fun.

So up slipped the Weekly World News.  Now the difference between them and the Enquirer was that WWN was blatant, utter, and absolute fabrication.  And lo, the shoppers were happy once again, and sales of Good Housekeeping and Womens Day plummeted.  They might have had diets, they might have had fashion, but they didn't have socko headlines like

I remember an interview with the owner, who said 'I sell this paper. This paper here. Just the paper. You can use it for wrapping things, whatever you like.  Now what I choose to decorate this paper with...well, you buy what you feel like buying." And people felt like buying it A Lot.  You can't lose with headlines like my personal favorite:

DA DA DA DA DA DUMMMMMMMMM!  NENENENENENEENE DA DA DUMMMMMM! He's lonesome, wild and freeeeeeeee, hey Bat Boy! *whip crack*     

This was the beginning of a Bat Boy saga that lasted for years. He got captured, he escaped, he crashed Spring Break, he ran around biting people, he was up for Governor of California, he went on the hunt for Bin Laden, he was - well, he was fuckin' fictional, but he was a busy dude. At one point he joined forces with The Worlds Biggest Baby.  And that baby was a big old heefin' baby.  They got up to hijinks.

Out of nowhere the other day I suddenly thought "I wonder what ever happened to Bat Boy and The Worlds Biggest Baby?"  As though they were relatives I hadn't seen for awhile. So I went for a look.

Sadly, The Worlds Biggest Baby has shuffled off this mortal coil.  Sumo Wrestler Once Known as 'World's Heaviest Child' Dead at 21 (people.com)

But Bat Boy's star kept on rising!  He ran opposite Trump for the White House! 

NOW you wish you'd have registered to vote, huh.          

Bat Boy stepped right up to the plate and took his test like a half-man, dammit!

And then, because he just wasn't special enough...

This is not a joke. This is for real. Somebody wrote Batboy: The Musical. And it's an Off-Broadway HIT.   Bat Boy: The Musical - Wikipedia

I hate to tell you how many people out there actually believed this stuff. Before you scoff - remember, this is the country that did not realize until after his death that Liberace was gay. These are the citizens that thought The Colbert Report was real news.  One of my mother's best friends believed every single word of crap like this.  She'd sit there and rattle on about this alien civilization that lived inside Mt. Shasta and Russian satellites that controlled the damn weather and everyone would just nod and smile and chime in with their own B.S.  

And the fuck's my excuse? I've never read a copy of the Weekly World News in my life!  Yet here I am with stupid Bat Boy stuck in my head. Why?  And the Worlds Biggest Baby!  I literally cannot remember my own phone number, yet I remember when Bat Boy was captured by scientists and there was an actual public protest for his release!  You know who I blame?

 I BLAME THE DEEP STATE

 

     

The Weekly World News - now 200% more tongue in cheek:  Weekly World News - The World’s Only Reliable News

Vultures and Vampires

Never fear!  This isn't a music post.

Nonetheless.

It is my firm opinion that all bass players should look like they eat nothing but amphetamines and roadkill. 

The Gorillaz bassist Murdoc being the poster boy for that look.  

     

Mr. William Wyman, 98 pounds of nose   

Jaco Pastorius seriously needing to eat a burger and get out in the sun         

Not pictured:  Dee Dee Ramone, John Paul Jones in his salad days - although there wasn't a one of those guys in the Zep who weighed more than a buck - and John freakin' have a sandwich Entwhistle. 

Now for the Black Widows! Oh you Vamps, how I adore you.

Oh, Louise Brooks, Louise Brooks, Louise Brooks!

Colleen Moore is about to steal your wallet. My my.

Ms. Moore's life wasn't an easy one. During one of the dark times, she knew she had to find something to occupy her mind, and she came up with one of the coolest projects ever - she built a dollhouse, an extravagant dollhouse, perfect in every imaginable detail, and furnished it with precious gems, ancient statues and signed books, all perfectly to scale, every inch exquisite. This is the Grand Hall in Colleen Moore's Fairy Palace:

Every painting on the wall is an original.  All that gold? Is real.  

Here's a link to a video about it. Really worth seeing: Colleen Moore's Fairy Castle - YouTube

And my personal all-time favorite Vamp?

THEDA. BARA. DAMMIT.

  

Do not mess with her. She will juke you with that fork.

Theda and her boyfriend the bass player 

Look familiar?  Yup. Theda Bara, man.     

Film was truth 24 times a second in my house, growing up. Sound, color, none of that made a difference. We watched it all.   Early on I had it bad for the Vamps.  They were dangerous!  They were sexy!  THEY WORE EYELINER!!

OK we have to have just one more Theda Bara here:

Come ON.  This woman will jack you full of venom and you'll love every minute.

Of course not all vampy women were born around the turn of the century.  Take for instance Lauren Bacall. Oh daaaaaamn, Lauren Bacall!

Please empty my bank account. 

  

Carolyn Jones, every inch a vamp. And really, what better role model for a nine-year-old?     

And here's my controversial entry: Anjelica Huston. 

 (For the Cliffs Notes version of A.H.'s life, click here:  Out of the shadows | Movies | The Guardian) 

Some Vamps are born, some are made.  Consider her in A Walk With Love And Death. She doesn't look like she's had an innocent day in her life, and she's seventeen. Naturally, dad's the director.*  I can't even imagine what her childhood must have been like, let alone it's having left her unscathed.  She didn't choose it; still, she's got a stripe of the black a mile wide.  And talent.  

Now how many of you out there are howling for Cher?  You sit down and behave yourselves. I can't ever say I thought of her as being particularly vampy, despite her V.A.M.P. routine.  She just doesn't have that je ne sais quoi, that air of Good having given itself wholeheartedly to the service of Evil.  I mean come on. Sonny Bono?  

That's not evil. That's just icky.       

Now go bake a coconut cake and name it after me.

______________________________

Delores Delago The Toast of Chicago!

Oh to be a Harlette.  Yeah you'd get yelled at. Don't spoil this for me.      

This picture is here because I didn't want to splash Mr. J all over Blogger up-first-like. 

Yes, Jon it is. This sultry citizen of  Britizen runs a weekly feature called Tacky Tuesday like he doozday.  

        This guy here. Sex on legs, people.       

Now! In the spirit of 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!' I present to you with no further ado...

!!!  BABYMAN  !!!

Singing and playing for you that inimitable hard-rock classic 

IRON MAN! 

Except it's the funk version! And there's a low-rent Klaus Nomi wandering around the set!       

Now come on. That is some tacky shit.  Funky as six cans of shaving powder too, so I know you're gonna want to save that link:  Babyman - Iron Man - YouTube      

You're begging me 'Please FirstNations we need more BABYMAN now now now.'  And I get it. He has the funk, and you need the funk.  It's the way he rrrrrrolls his R's. It's the beat in his feet and the bacon he's shakin'. 

I gave you a teaser-taster honeymaker a post past.  Now you got it comin' atcha, so feel the feeling till you're on the ceiling as you get full! blown! back! by the 1970's splendor that is... 

!!!HIGH LIKE A FLY!!!   

   

Now go bark at the moon. I know you have to.

In the Virtual Greeting Card Aisle With FirstNations

NOTE:  No Willow Tree figurines were harmed in the making of this post, but they for good and sure get taken to town.  If you collect these morphodites you just keep that to yourself. They are empty vessels awaiting an unclean spirit just the same as if you asked in the Devil himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grab your garters Gertie and let's take a trip through the Vanilla Internet looking for birthday cards! No, now we are not going to the porno, we are just skipping over all that old 'special interest' bee-smith. Just right down the center. 

I hope you brang comfortable shoes because I do not want to hear it about your corns. My God. See a doctor and get them froze off. 

Check out Dinahmow in her Aretha-inspired chapeau. I think that's just cute as a bugs. 

Have you noticed this damn Internets is not one bit like it was when I was a girl?  You used to have to get your computer all full up with the cookies and the trackies and that virus to find your friend a card.  And I mean now special friends.  You get plain friends, sometimes you got those special ones and the twain shall never meet. 

And sometimes the Twain do meet, and be natty have the photograph took.     

So you want to give a ticular friend a special birthday card. Well let me hold the damn door for your ass. Git on in this virtual Hallmark store!  

Hmm. 

Sakes, do you see this?  Did you know that there is such a thing as Caning Birthday cards?  'Happy Birthday!  I'm going to whap you with this cane!'  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised but I am. That's an Etsy.

And lookit here at all this, they have all this feet. Of course you know feet are yesterday.  There are feet-sex birthday cards all over the place. They got them on special. Everbody do.

Oh look they got cards for that special coprophiliac in your life.  Wait motherWHAT? There's even a coprophilia BEACH TOWEL. COME LOOK. Here it is behind the Snoopies. 

 

Coprophilia Home & Decor - CafePress

Let me take a second with that thought.  Coprophilia Home & Decor.

...and breathe.

Oh, a formicophilia sticker. 

Whazzat you asking me? Now tell me you aren't sitting right on the Internet asking me what's that mean.  

She-sakes. 

Fine.  It means that people out there getting their fancy tickled and put those bugs, worms, slugs and caterpillars and so forth all on their general selves, and they want a sticker for their car. Or maybe they want to stick the sticker on themselves and peel it off again until the glue wears out. I don't pretend to know.

Oh come take a lookit. Now tell me that's not cute as a bugs. You know, I used to have a nice friendship with a Babyman. I whisht Ida sent him a Babyman card.  

I do miss that Babyman. He was a German fella.  

I'd never find him again because there too many Babymen out there now, wearing diapers, getting baby pictures took at Wal-Mart, driving long haul truck.  But back then we and him had some very aformatative conversations, and I learned things. One of the things I learned is that I do not want to be a Babyperson.   But this Redbubble outfit next door down has got your cards when it comes to Babyperson birthdays. 

It's next door down- 

I am pointing at it.  

Put on your glasses.

Did I tell you my ex-father in law was a Stygiophiliac?  I must've.  

C'mon you're lying to me. Sure I told you about his stygiophilias. My ex husbands' sister Lena she had to poke him up with a triceradent to get any meat moved.  Look how Etsy come up with a nice little card says 'Demon Lover' that kind of looks like Paul McCartney, and his eyes are like red tomatoes. Here it's behind the Keepsake Ornaments.   

Oh I just thought of your brother Leonard. This ugly little statues brought him to my mind. 

Tell me that's no eggplanet. That is 2 eggplanets and they have torn out somebody's heart.    

Leonard. 

Leonard the cuck. 

Of course that was your brother. Watch his wife in the bed there with the man who change out the waterboys. 

Well whose brother was it then?  It was somebody's brother. 

Anyways look at all this everydamnwhere. 'Happy Birthday you sad, inadequate man, from your wife who has an ass full of Shane Diesel at this very moment. Wish you weren't here.' It's overfloated the bin! 

Lookit this rooster. Ha I got you!  You thought he was goina say cuck cuck cuck but he's talking bowt Slushies!  

Now see, me? No sir.  Nosir. Years and years ago I come close to murdering this certain party who thought she'd try to falank me.  And I still don't like that woman, so I tell you what I say. I say you be on the damn lookout, Patsy's niece, because I could develop a real flexible moral outlook in my 70's.

Were you ever in the carwash and wondered 'Gosh, is there such a thing as an enema birthday card?'  See this Etsy got this very stylish klismaphilia card. "Have a very shitty birthday all year long."* I think that's very nice. Yas.

This ain't it. This is a sticker. And it has ruined squirrels for me.      

Oh and lookit here behind the Santa! 

The Santa holding a fishing rod he's got a fish on. 

THERE!   

It's in the building next over, where did you think I was saying? I was pointing right smack at it. 

Look at all the hooraw they got in the Redbubble store!  

You know what? We are done.  Here I drug us all in the Hallmarks looking through all this ol' stuffin' they have.  

Like this. What is this.  Look at this horrible hematrode. Get your house haunted.

Somebody call an Uber right smack now. We are not spending one more little minute in this place.

We shoulda headed straight to the virtual Redbubble. They got ALL the philia cards.  Nobody gets left out on their birthday party.  

Meanwhile I'll tell you what I like. 

Of course I like a cut of Irish. No. I mean you know what I like best?  There is the link. Clink on that lick. 

Cake farts original (shittytube.com)      

Actually don't lick on this clink. Don't do it. You're grown, so now don't say I didn't tell you because I did.

Pay the Uber, Dinahmow, we don't have all ding dong day.

 

Well now. Look here in this Redbubble store! Shit fire and save matches, they have Cake Fart birthday cards! 

Woop! Pardon my oo la la. 

No, shoo shoo, go on! Grab a few!  Grab a t-shirt, a notebook and a poster while you're at it, they got those in the Cake Farts! 

Fact you go bother the checkout girl.  I'll take and put these up in my hose under the lastics.  

Check and see if I tucked my dress.

Goodness I have to sit down and wipe my glasses.  

See and here? Hoo boy!  You can not only buy your pals a Golden Shower birthday card, you can even order them a watersportses t-shirt in the male and female sizes! They even sell a lawn banner that says 'On a scale of ten, they're an eight.'  

Oh motherBUTT how's that go. 'If you're...' wait. 

You're an eight. 

'If I'm a ten, you're an eight.'

See now that's funny.

Damn skippy. Here's to me.   

Now that's a rotten nuisance; we run out of liquor. 

Tell that driver take us to the OLCC. 

Tap on the glass get his tension. Like a fishbowl. It gets their tension. 

Just tap on the damn glass get his ten-

WE WANT TO DRIVE TO THE OLCC  

-you think he heard me? He better-have. I'mant paying for no side-seeing trip.

Go ten miles out of my way and end up some strange place they got these ballahooskas. Like it sucked the eyes out of each other, that sea lion.     

Wasn't that fun?  I had fun. I am stocked up. I hope you stocked up too. Things are getting spensive out there. That stocking up is what I swear by. Say you die, why, your children can still use those cards. Shoe. Be tickled to death, find those philia cards.

Yas. 

_________________________

*Contact me for more jolly, enema-specific sentiments.