Putrefied crap that's rotted a lot reminds me of women every decent man's sought, ***** whose beams are wide, heavy & low slung beyond the capacity of a slow lung as they glide over buttered guts on beef tongue. I want to be judged by the nice things that I say & not by queer-baited prisoners leaning toward the captively captivating gay life. While riding horses with my swollen, fat friend Al Louse Gore, I noted that the bouncing did nothing to fix my trail mouse sore nor assuage my practice of preaching to cactus that I teach behind a horrid lock that locks my jail house door.