The farmer's cool, fiery eyes set gaze upon Cindy's smooth, recently-shaven thighs. “Engelbert & Tom Jones harmonize like Lennon & McCartney in that it's difficult to know where one voice begins and the other ends,” said she uncomfortably. The snow fell like salt in a mackerel canning plant. “Hurry,” the farmer hurriedly cautioned, “because our rural tattooed generation abides by the touchstone of their stained lives: doing **** *****.” She knew what that meant and was grateful that he said rural instead of hayseed. Meanwhile, back at the mayor's office young Nancy, the gorgeous Filipina from the classified department, was selling out to fat-cat, caffè Americano-types determined to destroy sleeping arrangements between the grafters of Cebu and the palm-greasers of Davao City. Describing two ages of a woman's life as tender and as ripe isn't respectful on the main island but typical throughout the U.S. empire. “Spoon cubed sugar my way young heifer,” said the man's man customer who wooed chinks like dental trickery remedies front-tooth interstices. Why does a woman, who considers herself a LADY, take offense to being called a ***** even though she named her ***** (her female dog): LADY? [Using wash-rag as a verb: “Did you wash-rag your ***?”; “Yes, I wash-ragged it!”] y [A dumb-*** child asks: “How does a spider **** ants?” An informed adult answers: “He grabs them and then beats the **** out of them!” An informed child asks: “Why does Pepsico use the kidney cells of aborted babies to flavor their beverages?” A dumb-*** adult answers: “Shut up!”]