passionately for two hours till a fresh gay lover was delivered to John Wayne's garish dungeon by the movie studio's executive for gay replacement lovers. "Thanks for the fresh homosexual," Gary Cooper said politely as those close to him were horrified by the obvious fact that this handsome matinee idol was more festive than a liver-pink picnic basket floating in a bubbly sea of curdled butter milk.

That camper toilet is shaped like Julia Roberts! Yes, that's right. It's useful for campers and their friends in the woods. Simply sit on it and let go. But why is it shaped like Julia Roberts? Because we have a licensing agreement with her brother Eric. He's the brains behind the former beauty.

Will there be many trillionaires on the yacht? Seven. Seven? That's okay, I guess. Don't worry. I'll be there if one of them's a smart ***. Okay. Do you like my shoes? I borrowed them from an African-American. They're nice. Well, I'm going to have a drink first. Good idea. If you need me, I'll be on the lower deck mixing things up with several **** ex-lesbians.

Toby questioned Ryan's strong faith in God when Ryan announced that his sister would be an ex-lesbian beginning on May eighth, immediately after attending the Mega-Big Lesbian **** Jamboree in Salem, Oregon. "I can't believe it!" Toby exclaimed to the motel staff who were assembled in the back yard of his palatial mansion. "Believe what?!" Gladys Higgins yelled back. "That any lesbian can become an ex-lesbian and give up the beautiful fulfilment of total lesbianism!" Toby shot back like he was Warren Beatty or something.

Narelle Atkins' book 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 changed my outlook on farmers. I thought that they were all bloated, cow-****-stinking retardates married to toothless crones plagued with sub-clinical glandular abnormalities, syndromic mal-absorbtion complaints & chronic-fluid-retention problems. But, according to "Narelle," farmers can possess good qualities. Indeed, for any broad who'd choose to suffer with endometriosis forever rather than to roll in the hay with an analphabetic, sister-*******, tobacco-chawin' hayseed, this novel will plug (and clog) your barren ports tighter than a Cuban baseball. ¡𝘝𝘪𝘷𝘢 𝘍𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘺 𝘴𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘙𝘢ú𝘭 𝘮á𝘴 𝘭𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘥𝘦 𝘐𝘳á𝘯! Come on masons: Hurry up & bury Luciferian Billy F. Graham as I can't hold my bowels much longer! Hurry up & plant the self-professed-demon-possessed Robin F. Williams as I won't contain this bladder much longer! Demanding queers demand that the perfectly-normal commonweal of Wisconsin change its inoffensive name to 𝘞𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯.

ONE DAY it became obvious (even apparent) to me that I MUST hypnotize my **** neighbor to make her into my obedient love-slave. Hey neighbor! Hey! Come here and see my new hypnotizing kit from Kmart. Kmart? Didn't they go belly up? Yeah, but I got it just before they did. Oh. Now, look deeply into my eyes. Hey, wait a minute! Are you going to make me your love-slave through hypnosis? Yes. Okay.

People believe (incredibly) that .50¢ is the same as 50¢ and will argue the point. Any number that's to the right of a decimal point is a fraction of a whole number. A dollar is $1.00 and half of a dollar is $.50 (also known as 50 cents) and a dollar and a half is $1.50 (also called a dollar-fifty). The novel .50¢ would be half of a cent (penny), while 50¢ is 50 pennies. I don't agree with the notion that public school teachers are underpaid.

Relax on this plush dog bed from Italy with built-in dog features that Romanian dog beds don't have. Like what? Like the feathers and fuzzy stuff bunched up in the middle for a comfortable sleep that feels like a bikini model with blonde ***** hair. Hey! You're right! It's like sleeping with Farrah Fawcett before she lost her mind. See?! I told you!

took off for Japan overloaded. Stella and Carla sat close to one another, their vulvas & rectums just inches apart. "I pray that our Japanese pilot doesn't think too much about what our great grandfathers did in Tokyo during the war," Carla whispered in Greek even though she was faking it. "Is that Greek?" Stella whispered back, while her ******* got bigger from the ex-lesbian closeness she shared with Carla. "Yes, it's fake Greek that's all jibberish," Carla admitted. "That's odd," Stella noted. "What is?" Carla asked. "You spelled 𝘨𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 with a J. That's the first time I've seen that," Stella replied, much to Carla's annoyance because the word can be spelled acceptably either way: with a J or a G.

What's that thing? It's a chicken watering can. Simply place it under each dry chicken that needs watering and the electronic sensor valve will do the rest. What about ducks? Will it water them too? I don't know. Let's try it on a nearby duck now. Okay, let her rip. Oh no, the duck has been shredded into moist mulch. I didn't know that would happen. Let's use a pigeon. I have one in my pocket. You have one in your pocket? Yes, and a gold coin worth five million dollars. It's from the Roman Empire and it's the only one left. I found it in a *****'s purse when I was a helicopter mechanic 6 years ago. I was desperate for a job as a helicopter mechanic so I applied at Fred's Excellent Helicopter Repair Company and they hired me on the spot. Later, I married Fred's ex-wife who has enormous labial ***** and I've never been happier.

There's always more beyond 𝘪𝘵 depending on the context of 𝘪𝘵. I just bit the superfluous tip off a *** of a half-wit because her bra wouldn't fit. I dream in color: the color of dreams; dreams of blind people after ***-removal surgery; visions of grey water flowing up the steepest part of where the Niagara River likes to fall; Biblical prophesies about Judean midgets who aren't too tall.

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You have been connected to Carrie So.
Carrie So:  Cancer Treatment Centers of America, this is Carrie. How may I help you?
Suzy Berlinsky:  Exposure to X-rays causes radiation-sickness. How might exposing cancer sufferers to radiation-sickness improve their health?
Carrie So:  Hi Suzy.
Carrie So:  Radiation therapy for cancer treatment is a different type of radiation
Carrie So:  I can send you a link, it's from the National Cancer Institute's website
Carrie So:  it explains in more detail what radiation for cancer is
Carrie So:  
Suzy Berlinsky:  How so? The loss of hair is a hallmark of radiation-sickness.
Suzy Berlinsky:  What's the cure-rate of your organization?
Carrie So:  We have survival statistics posted on our website, they are specific by cancer type
Suzy Berlinsky:  The appeal of this site is one-on-one with someone who possesses expertise in regards to cancer. Please route my questions to an expert.
Carrie So:  I am an oncology information specialist, I am trying to help you today
Carrie So:  There isn't an answer to your question about a cure rate for our orgonization
Carrie So:  as I mentioned, you can see our survival data, by cancer type on the website
Suzy Berlinsky:  Of course there's an answer. Your large organization keeps meticulous statistics.
Carrie So:  In most cases Suzy, people want statistics that our specific to a cancer type
Carrie So:  Would that be helpful for you?
Suzy Berlinsky:  I want an overall statistic as I'm collecting data on cancer survival rates.
Carrie So:  Any data you find Suzy will be separated into cancer types
Carrie So:  Have you been to the National Cancer Institute website before?
Suzy Berlinsky:  Please connect me with an expert.
Carrie So:  I will transfer you
Christie Nelson has entered the session.
Christie Nelson:  Hello Suzy.
Suzy Berlinsky:  Do you possess statistical data?
Christie Nelson:  Yes, we do have stats comparing Cancer Treatment Centers of America outcome versus the SEER National Database.
Christie Nelson:  Have you been diagnosed with cancer, Suzy?
Suzy Berlinsky:  What's your overall cure-rate? How many of your patients survive at least 5 years following treatment?
Christie Nelson:  We break down our statistics by cancer type. I want to make sure I am helping you in the way you want to be helped today. Are you considering making an appointment at one of our centers?
Suzy Berlinsky:  I'm shopping around. I've yet to receive a straight answer from your organization. Answer my questions please.
Christie Nelson:  We do not have a overall cure-rate. I can give you statistic's based on cancer type. What type of cancer are you researching? Then I can give you the answer.
Suzy Berlinsky:  That's not true. What's your cure-rate amongst patients with cancer seated in the lungs?
Christie Nelson:  For non small cell lung cancer
Christie Nelson:  CTCA is 22 percentage points higher than the national average in survival.
Christie Nelson:  at 1 year, CTCA is 16 percentage points higher than the national average
Christie Nelson: Suzy, may I ask, what is the name of your medical insurance so that I may be in the best position to help you?
Suzy Berlinsky:  90% of lung cancer patients die within a year of diagnosis. How long before they succumb to their illness upon completion of your course of treatment?
Christie Nelson:  That certainly is a very difficult question. That depends on so many variables. I don't have the answer for you. Ultimately you would need to come in and meet with our doctors to evaluate your options.
Suzy Berlinsky:  May I correspond with someone other than a salesman?
Christie Nelson:  I am not a salesman, Suzy. We are patient advocates here at CTCA. In order to speak with a clinicial person from our center, you would need to make an appointment. I would be glad to help you set that up.
Suzy Berlinsky:  You have yet to answer a straight-forward question. Surely you have common statistics at-the-ready.
The agent is sending you to http://www.cancercenter.com/lung-cancer/survival-outcomes.cfm.
Carrie So has left the session.
Suzy Berlinsky:  When will someone knowledgeable be available to answer elementary questions concerning cure-rates?
Christie Nelson: Suzy, I have answered your question, showed you the chart. I am sorry I am not understanding how I can help you further.
Suzy Berlinsky:  Somehow I got placed in the sales dept. Please transfer me.
Christie Nelson:  Suzy, you need to make an appointment to speak with our clinical staff. I need to assist other patients now. I wish you all the best.
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“Comanches put the prisoner to work digging a hole, telling him they needed it for a religious ceremony. When the captive, using a knife and his hands, had completed digging a pit about five feet deep, they bound him with rope, placed him in it, filled the hole with dirt, packing it around his body and exposed head. They then scalped him and cut off his ears, nose, lips, and eyelids. Leaving him bleeding, they rode away, counting on the sun and insects to finish their work for them. Later, back at their encampment, they told the story as an excellent joke, one which gained them a certain celebrity throughout the tribe.” —  Stanley Noyes, 𝘓𝘰𝘴 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 1751 -- 1845 (1993)

One day a beautiful Walmart garden department assistant manager met a Burger King regional manager at an ex-lesbian business conference in Ohio. "Hi! My name's Karen Lesbian!" The Walmart ex-lesbian exclaimed while extending her ***** to Rhonda Watson, the **** from Burger King. "Glad to eat you! I'm Rhonda and this is my left ******!" Later, after lunch at the Y, both of them rented a motel room together for no particular reason.

After lunch a normal couple of people walked across an old Ohio River bridge for fun, little did they know that it was Ex-Lesbian Day. "Look Helga," Rex said, pointing at two ex-lesbians going at it big time in river mud. "That's terrible, especially 'cause everyone can see them." After that they continued on their way without talking till Rex saw another couple of ex-lesbians fornicating on a table at Dairy Queen. "I'm starting to believe that Ex-Lesbian Day is a joke," Helga blurted. Rex nodded in agreement.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱-𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐬. "𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠," 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨. "𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱-𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬!" 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐱-𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱-𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

makes me wanna die like a fruit fly on fly-blown paper. She's got a **** that won't stop shaking when she's making fake love with my dumb cousin whose foul mouth's forever cussin.' Oh, delicious Abba woman, I'll love you till you crap-out in God's sweet kingdom of Sweden, three miles east of Eden.

Our relationship ended when you stole my lawn mower. I knew it was you because of the way your grass looked. "You stole it!" I exclaimed, out of my mind. You denied it and said that your lawn mower looked like mine but it wasn't. That's a lie and you know it! I bought that mower 4 years ago during the mower shortage. That's why it cost so much. I did everything in the world for that mower and now it's gone: trapped in your tool shed and I hate you for that.

Just in case you want to sue let me correct failing parts of your face
with injectable botulism food poisoning & sand-based silicone glue
after I probe your ****** like an obstetrician whose patients are few.

When I was the same size as a runt kitten, I made crayon sketches of Elvis for my crazy grandmother who had just 1 lung (the other one was eaten by lung-hungry Pygmies). She encouraged me to draw other singers, so I concentrated on Faron Young and Ferlin Husky till my thumbs grew so strong that I could lift her high above my head by hooking 1 thumb under her left arm and the other one in the hollow indentation caused by that major Pygmy lung-attack of long ago. One day, while we were enjoying a heaping plate of gray squirrel toes, granny had a brutal heart attack and died instantly. I panicked, admittedly, and mistakenly called Big Bob's Pygmy Hotline instead of a doctor. Pygmies arrived and took her corpse away. I told an Elvis impersonator about it and he sang six songs that reminded me of Ferlin Husky. Several years later I bought a large painting that depicted ***** midgets enjoying a night at the opera, ghetto-style. It's an awful painting that exploits Negroes a lot. I asked a local gang of ***** gangsters what they thought about it, but they only understood Ebonics and tried to **** me so I quickly got away before they could **** me up big-time.