Bananarama

The banana boat from Havana came into Norfolk yesterday. However, because the men who were supposed to come up from Haiti to peel the bananas for pudding did not show up we took the banana shipment, and sold them to our resident rectal man at my pay toilets downtown, Dr. Ass, to use, as he saw fit(s) for banana enemas and other assorted bathroom varieties.

As we all gather along the family home in anticipation of Thanksgiving, I realize the shortage of fruit and other Thanksgiving delights may make this a less than absolutely fantastic, upper GI tract, many mouths to feed, holiday. But we live with what we have. And if on your Thanksgiving table this week, you don't see fruit cup, don't come crying to me. I do have a case. But I have to save it for the big buffet we're having this Thursday at the stalls. Hermaphrodites get in for half. Or is that for double? I could never get that straight. Shoot, Lord, that's like getting a herme herself straight. It takes legislation for that.

So, let us shine in the reflected glory of our wonderful election win, hoping the Tea Party peeps do our thing up right.

And serve the gravy hot.

Joe