ALGORE
If the former Vice-President will cut down on the heat here in Norfolk, then maybe I'll come around on global warming, or at least give him a free pass to my new "Luxo" pay toilet.
It is so damn hot here. The temperature thing said 99, but they lie so much. I'll bet it was 110. My damn phone started to melt. Oh, gee, maybe the Soviet Union is bombing New York? I'd better get in the house. What about the toilets up there? What about Henry Fonda?
All I know it's August, I saw it on the that thing they hang up where I work that has all the days and months of the year on it. So I know its August. You'll get no argument from me about that. You sons of bitches. You think I can't tell what day it is? It's Tuesday, so there. And I know all of my numbers and most of my letters; except p, q, s, r, and 7.
After the cancer surgery, I am doing everything I can to keep my face from getting too much sun. I could keep my head in the toilet all day, but I have tv shows to watch, not to mention getting Yoo-Hoo's for all the girls at the whorehouse from the gas station across the street from my apartment.
But that does nothing to get this heat a'stoppin'. All I want to do is go poopin'. Dancing at the high school hop, dancing at the high school hop. But that doesn't seem to cool me off any either. Look, men, I need a woman. One that is all fresh and sweet smelling, and has no scent of shit from competitors who run sub-standard pay stalls. Have you ever been inside one of those disgraces to commercial toiletry? They don't care how they look. They just give you a token, and send you into a broken down facility that no self respecting southern woman would ever use.
Boy do I need a woman. And, say, Al Gore, give us a break on the heat here, mama. If you do, I'll get you a woman too.
Time to rest.
Joe Postove
It is so damn hot here. The temperature thing said 99, but they lie so much. I'll bet it was 110. My damn phone started to melt. Oh, gee, maybe the Soviet Union is bombing New York? I'd better get in the house. What about the toilets up there? What about Henry Fonda?
All I know it's August, I saw it on the that thing they hang up where I work that has all the days and months of the year on it. So I know its August. You'll get no argument from me about that. You sons of bitches. You think I can't tell what day it is? It's Tuesday, so there. And I know all of my numbers and most of my letters; except p, q, s, r, and 7.
After the cancer surgery, I am doing everything I can to keep my face from getting too much sun. I could keep my head in the toilet all day, but I have tv shows to watch, not to mention getting Yoo-Hoo's for all the girls at the whorehouse from the gas station across the street from my apartment.
But that does nothing to get this heat a'stoppin'. All I want to do is go poopin'. Dancing at the high school hop, dancing at the high school hop. But that doesn't seem to cool me off any either. Look, men, I need a woman. One that is all fresh and sweet smelling, and has no scent of shit from competitors who run sub-standard pay stalls. Have you ever been inside one of those disgraces to commercial toiletry? They don't care how they look. They just give you a token, and send you into a broken down facility that no self respecting southern woman would ever use.
Boy do I need a woman. And, say, Al Gore, give us a break on the heat here, mama. If you do, I'll get you a woman too.
Time to rest.
Joe Postove
posted by Mr. Liberty at 1:28 PM
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