𝗗𝗮𝗱𝗱𝘆, 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗲 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗼𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗧𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗺𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘅-
𝗲𝗱 & 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘆 𝗞𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄?
𝗪𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 & 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜'𝗱 𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗺-𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗱
𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗮𝘅 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗼𝗿𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗺-𝘄𝗮𝘅 𝘁𝗮𝘅
𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁, 𝗶𝗻 𝗞𝗮𝗿𝗹 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘅'𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗔𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗮, 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘅,
𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗶𝗽 𝘀𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗮'𝘀 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝘂𝘁-𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀.
𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲: 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀; 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿
𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗹𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘆; 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗩𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗮𝘆;
𝘂𝗻𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗯𝗮𝗿; 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮 𝗷𝗮𝗿;
𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗸; 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝘂-
𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱-𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘅𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗼𝗿𝗸.

Jane always slept naked to experience the delight of having her large ***** dragged over the carpeted floors of Motel 6 by drunken trapeze artists with their Romanian ***** hanging out like Boy Scout administrators on vacation in Denmark. "Pass a can of Bud Light my way," Tom said. He was Jane's lover, even though he drank a homosexual brand of beer.

WIKI: Mălina Olinescu (29 January 1974 – 12 December 2011) was a Romanian singer who represented her country at the Eurovision Song Contest 1998 with the song "Eu cred" ("I Believe") and placed 22nd with six points, with all of her points coming from Israel.[3] Olinescu died on 12 December 2011 at the age of 37. She committed suicide by falling out of the 6th-floor window in the building in which she lived.[4][5]

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞.
Wiki is run by DEMON-CRATS!!!

LOWER LEFT LUNG LOBE LOSS - What kind of weather is this? Gotta keep my mouth shut or the rain'll drown me. Can't ***** in the open because the pig infestation's intense. It's like Pontiac, Michigan in July every day 'round here. It feels like my glands are broken.

I AM GUIDED BY FIFTY-FIVE ICE-COLD HOT DOGS made by ****** or Satan or Spiro Agnew. I'm torn between a wedding gown and a football helmet. Do I spread it thick or thin? Do I leap off the Empire State Building where it's dangerously high or jump the janitor while he's napping? These are questions that only God may answer.

I cannot deny my unique ***** heritage. Born in jail, my mammy hid me under her mattress for 14 years where I grew long and lean and able to lift a prison bunk with my mind. I was also self-taught to count to twenty, forward and backward. Later, after my appendix burst, I sought the man of my dreams (a New York ****). We would live under a bridge, "the homosexual bridge of love." One day I'll become a Christian and wreck a helicopter or maybe a car and eat pizza with a spoon (just for fun).

Giant mermaid doll - 50 to 100 times bigger than a school bus. Comes with wide wheels and blimp landing gear. I sailed her to the Aleutian Islands and back 4 summers ago with no difficulty while using my wife as a flotation device. Call now to receive 45%-off before Easter (55%-off after Easter).

in an avalanche with artificial monkeys in it. We kissed too soon at your mother's funeral when everyone was watching us. That's why I can never look at a dead crone again with the same lust and desire.

Spanish-American War Tax Still Being Collected!

WASHINGTON, D.C. -- The Spanish-American War ended in 1898. In fact, it only lasted from April to August of that year. But one thing has lived on longer than the participants in that war: a federal tax on telephones that was said to be "temporary."

Fortunately, U.S. Rep. Ed Royce (R-CA-39) today voted with the House to repeal the "tax on talking." Royce was a cosponsor of the bipartisan bill [H.R.3916] which passed by a vote of 420-2. The measure now moves to the Senate for consideration.

"Only Washington could extend a tax 102 years. And only Washington would think to tax talking. It’s so unbelievable that it’s a perfect candidate for ‘Ripley’s Believe It or Not’," Royce said. "I would think that after 102 years, we would have paid off the five months of the Spanish-American War. This tax should have ended with it."

Congress first enacted a telephone excise tax in order to help pay for the 1898 Spanish-American War, which lasted only five months. At the time, this "temporary" tax amounted to a penny on long-distance phone calls costing more than 15 cents. Over the years, the federal phone tax has survived efforts to phase it out and scale it back. Congress made it a permanent 3 percent tax on telecommunications services in 1990.

"What else is there on the books? A surcharge for the Civil War?* A tax to pay for World War I? Maybe there’s a tariff on candles to pay for the Revolutionary War still being collected," Royce said.

"The Spanish-American War ended more than 100 years ago; this tax should have ended with it," Royce said. "We must send a message that no longer will ‘temporary taxes’ be permanent. **** this unnecessary tax."

Of the 105.4 million households in America, 99.1 million (94 percent) have telephone service. This telephone tax repeal would provide tax relief to every one of those households. Additionally, due to the rapid pace of technological change, the difference between traditional telecommunications, the Internet and other technologies is increasingly unclear. If the federal phone tax remains on the books, it would jeopardize recent efforts to keep the Internet free from taxation.

*Actually, there is -- the estate tax (death tax) is a relic from the Civil War, and the first federal income tax began during that period.

Diabetic Floridians have traded their pancreatic souls for jelly rolls
while shimmying bloated groove things from crooked Citrus Bowls
to kick placenta-shaped globes through two sissified posts of goals
and fondling each other in and amongst obelisk football field poles,
in practice for the third to man righteous slots in State cheese doles
to boldly sashay on promenades with dogs called women for strolls
only to dine upon nature's bounty of termite larvae, slugs & moles,
from countrified cities and urban meadows to ship-beaching shoals
where myopic quasi-goats possess proto-goat gumption to eat trolls
In national shoe economy sectors it's advisable to rehabilitate soles
Remember the  Maine, to hell with Spain, explore passages or holes
as it was in 1943's Hit the Ice twixt Elyse Knox & Patric Knowles,
allowing Lou Costello to be raked over the flick's proverbial coals

Gerbils are just like you and me: out to make a buck. If you enjoy clawing your way up Richard Gere's ****, then you might be ready to make friends with Herb Paul, a gerbil that speaks 13 languages (not counting German). Herb was raised by Pygmy cannibals in Sumatra when he was little. He grew tall and firm on juicy rat-**** & monkey-****. 1 day, as Richard Gere was winning an academy award, Herb escaped. Gere's underwear drawer was searched thoroughly yet nothing was found. Later after that, Cindy Crawford chewed her way out of a canvas sack because she had sharp teeth and pink *******. (I saw them in 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘺 magazine before Hugh Hefner died.)

For Lease: coal-fired tooth-brush washer! For 34 dollars per week you can lease a coal-fired tooth-brush cleaner that will clean your tooth-brush so effortlessly that you will wander off into the wilderness and get eaten by polar bears and nobody will ever see you again and not care anyway because they didn't like you at all to begin with (or in the first place), not even a little bit.

ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʸᵃ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ? ᶠᵒᵒᵗ ᶠᵘⁿᵍᵘˢ. ᴵ ᵇᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ³ ᶜʳᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ. ᴴᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ? ³ ᶜʳᵃᵗᵉˢ! ᴺᵒ, ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ: ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒˢᵗ? ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳˢ ᵃ ᵇᵒˣ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁵⁰ ᵇᵒˣᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶜʳᵃᵗᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗʷᵒ ʰᵘⁿᵈʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱᶠᵗʸ ᵈᵒˡˡᵃʳˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ³ ᶜʳᵃᵗᵉˢ ⁱˢ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ⁻ᶠⁱᶠᵗʸ. ᴹᵃʸ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉ? ˢᵘʳᵉ. ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ, ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿᵍᵘˢ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗˢ ˢᵖᵒʳᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵍᵉ.

𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗧𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗨𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗚𝗨𝗦 - 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲? 𝗙𝗼𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘂𝘀. 𝗜 𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝟯 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝘁. 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵? 𝟯 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀! 𝗡𝗼, 𝗜 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻: 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝘀𝘁? 𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘅 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝟱𝟬 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝟯 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻-𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝘆. 𝗠𝗮𝘆 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲? 𝗦𝘂𝗿𝗲. 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘂𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲.

𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰 𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝚄𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙶𝚄𝚂 - 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙵𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜. 𝙸 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝟹 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑? 𝟹 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜! 𝙽𝚘, 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝? 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝟻𝟶 𝚋𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝟹 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗-𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚢. 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎? 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎.

ＨΛＶＩＮＧ░Λ░Ｔ♢Ｎ░♢Ｆ░ＦＵＮ░ＷＩＴＨ░ＧＵＳ░－░Ｗｈａｔ░ｙａ░ｇｏｔ░ｔｈｅｒｅ？░Ｆｏｏｔ░ｆｕ­ｎｇｕｓ．░Ｉ░ｂｏｕｇｈｔ░３░ｃｒａｔｅｓ░ｏｆ░ｉｔ．░Ｈｏｗ░ｍｕｃｈ？░３░ｃｒａｔｅｓ！░Ｎｏ，░Ｉ░ｍｅａｎ：░ｈｏ­ｗ░ｍｕｃｈ░ｄｉｄ░ｉｔ░ｃｏｓｔ？░Ｆｉｖｅ░ｄｏｌｌａｒｓ░ａ░ｂｏｘ░ｔｉｍｅｓ░５０░ｂｏｘｅｓ░ｉｎ░ａ░ｃｒａｔｅ░­ｉｓ░ｔｗｏ░ｈｕｎｄｒｅｄ░ａｎｄ░ｆｉｆｔｙ░ｄｏｌｌａｒｓ░ｔｉｍｅｓ░３░ｃｒａｔｅｓ░ｉｓ░ｓｅｖｅｎ－ｆｉｆｔｙ．░Ｍ­ａｙ░Ｉ░ｈａｖｅ░ａ░ｔａｓｔｅ？░Ｓｕｒｅ．░Ｃａｒｅｆｕｌ，░ｔｈｅ░ｆｕｎｇｕｓ░ｉｓ░ｉｎ░ｉｔｓ░ｓｐｏｒｅ░ｓｔａｇ­ｅ．

For sale: DAVID NIVEN NOVELTY ALARM CLOCK. Wake up like David Niven used to: in *****. See the country in a new car! Wake up to the smell of coffee mixed with David Niven's *****. Laugh, love, scratch your *** like a monkey! The time to die is now! If you're so good at committing suicide; how come you're not dead?

MY SISTER IDENTIFIES AS A MAN - Are you experiencing unwanted ******* pain? Do your teeth fall out when you're experiencing unwanted ******* pain? Have you ever been sedated during surgery only to wake up in the recovery room with unwanted ******* pain? Unwanted ******* pain is no joke and it's even worse now since a man is defined as anyone who identifies as one. For example: "Sister! What's wrong?!" - "I'm experiencing unwanted ******* pain!"

PEOPLE YOUNGER THAN THAT MAY NOT DRINK AND MUST SURVIVE ON VANILLA PUDDING! Men without mustaches have no rights. They may not breathe, breed or train beagles. Women in strapless evening gowns are encouraged to bend over a lot (like they're looking for car keys), especially during Kwanzaa (for some reason). Rabbits make good pets and people under the age of 37 may eat them or enter into civil unions with them like homos used to before the 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰 court got involved and made them buy marriage licenses.

1 day I spied my brother on a road, drunk, so I decided to land my airplane on him to **** him. As I dropped down at 800-miles-per-hour he ducked, and I just missed him by 7 inches. Later, I ran him over with my Kawasaki scooter. He's not dead but he won't be playing badminton anytime soon.

I like your Pygmy elbows & your tiny Pygmy face & how you bend
over invitingly with experienced Pygmy sodomites at Pygmy ******
so that inexperienced, virginal Pygmy girls do not feel out of place.

“DARLENE, LOOK, there're 2 young lovers ******* in the dark.”
“*******? Don't you mean kissing?”
   “What'd I say?”
   “*******.”
   “No thanks, I've already eaten.”
   “You meant park, right?”
   “No I didn't.”
   “I don't care for your brand of fun. I say no thanks to it.”
   “Darlene listen. When's the central government going to show
the passionless resentment, or resolve, that'll lay claim to the
unseen problems inherent in my life?”
   Darlene just sat there: so dumb, so beautiful. It seemed that she was unconcerned, disconnected, lost in Darlene World. Perhaps a rattle snake stuffed into her underpants would stir her? It's worth a try. I'd be willing to give it a go.
   “Look over there Darlene!” I'd say to which she'd reply:
“Do not stuff a rattle snake into my underpants.”
   “Okay, if that's what you don't want me to do then I shall abide by your wishes, besides, I've got more important & exciting things to do than stuff a rattle snake into your underpants.”
   “Like what?” She'd ask.
   “Like plenty of things,” I'd say, although I'd be
unable, or perhaps unwilling, to list any.
   “Could it be that you have nothing better to do than stuff a
rattle snake into my underpants?” She'd ask intuitively.
   “No! That's not it at all. I love you
Darlene. Can't you understand that?”
   She looked at me penetratively, her underpants snakeless.
“And I love you. Let's find some way to express our newly-
discovered  fondness for one another without you stuffing
a rattle snake into my underpants.”
   “Maybe, but I still might do it for kicks you know?”
  “Well, sure, as long as you know the difference. ---
Is that your niece? What's she doing with that *****?”
   “Oh, him, I think he's determined to make her pregnant.”
   “That's wonderful!” Darlene proclaimed as we
were all negroes so it didn't mean anything anyhow.

Fly over neighborhoods like the cops do! This chopper has it all: flashing lights, tail section, rotors!!! You'll be Mister Big **** at the controls! No helicopter flying experience is necessary! This baby flies itself! Tired of women ******* at you: morning, noon and night?! Get even with these filthy, clap-ridden ***** by dropping bombs on them out the window of your free police helicopter!

we have removed your channel from YouTube
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YouTube <no-reply@youtube.com>
Sun, Nov 3, 9:33 AM
to me

Hi Suzanna Berlinsky,

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I must **** trees, miss fleas, kiss cheese & hiss bees like nervously-
nervous nut cases with a neurotic, nerve-racking, miss-ease disease
I will **** trees, miss fleas, hiss bees & kiss cheeses like nervously-
nervous nut jobs with neurotical, nerve-racking, miss-ease diseases
Half-way up from the bottom down, left of center, tilted backwards,
is the contorted stance that cripples contortionists lunging forwards
Charles Puffy's jumbled diphtherial litter & rot got him caught cold
& brought to higher authorities who knew old Puffy needn't be shot
I must **** freeze, miss fleas, kiss pleas & sis knees like nervously-
nervous **** aces with a neurotic, verve-backing, mist-fees disease
in prison abuse programs for los Indios maricones of British Belize
where we choke Chinese grocers often for greenish imports of peas
from divine Cathay where Falun Gong worship's a Maoistical tease
for the likes of Planters honey peanut butter franchisee John Cleese
who unites skin-sloughing French sheep with shepherds who fleece
along knee, shoulder & pelvic joints & where pink **** ***** crease
which is alright with ****-flap pervert, the flitty queer Edwin Meese
who seeks gay normality & normal gayety with 32 gym locker keys
that unlock a twilit exo-scientometrical face that God frozenly frees
under the gun like a he/she; as known by goys blown in shot breeze
through statues soiled by pigeons above ½ moon toenails of tweeze
long after the decapitation of 91-year-old screen writer Robert Lees
whose bid to keep head & torso as 1 died like Yukio's Shogun pleas
whose fight to keep his head & frame attached died in ½-assed seas
just like ****** Bruce Jenner showing he's a she by varying degrees
that has his ill family of mule-******* climbing like chimps up trees
that has his donkey-******' family climbin' like apes up jungle trees
where syndicated-business-share-differentials run like a viral sneeze
brought on anaphylactically from the sting of gay Cuban killer bees