Ah, Friday, Friday. Yes, today is Friday, which means the end of the week is coming. Or, has come, if you are of the European persuasion (I most certainly hope you are not). There are fine gentlemen in hats surrounding me on all perimeters, the smoke of the hookahs enveloping our dirty business in an intoxicating fog of cancerous emissions. Or that would e how it is if I were in a brothel full of gentlemen in hats, with pipes. Instead, I’m not. Sports are looking dull. Politics are grim. Saddam Hussein’s dead. Teenage boys have annoying voices, all creepy-like. Epson makes printers. I don’t like dogs. ESPN used to play badminton, back when it was a good channel. I don’t get cable. There’s an entire book about penises, about 100 or so pages. I think I’d read it, but I’m afraid of talking or otherwise anthro(that’s not quite the right term, but I don’t know what else
would be)pomorphised genitalia. If it’s
dog genitalia, I guess it would apply! That reminds me,
Dog Hustler hasn’t come for a while. Possibly because I murdered the mailman to feed the belligerent squids I keep in my bathtub.
Thus tying my previous two posts together, I have inexorably created a rift in the time-space continuum! Now, whenever you’re jacking it to canine pornography, you’ll also have to deal with getting ink all over you while you’re dressed as a mailman!
Whether rain, hail, sleet or snow, the federal mail service marches onwards, delivering all manner of disgusting things to innocent citizens of our great republic. Why, just the other day I recieved this horrible “bill” from “Verizon Wireless” asking that I pay them my money. I know better than that, you despicable fiends! I’m going to burn my house down, claim the insurance, and buy as many “Monopoly” sets as I possibly can, take all the money, paint it green, and then send it to your evil con-man “company,” and then you’ll learn not to mess with honest, god-fearing Americans! Ha!
