Thirty-three thousand centuries before toilet paper was invented (toilet paper that's seventy-five billion times softer than a mother's kiss) hungry farmers grew corn in massive fields that stretched for billions of miles. Those were tough times back then when women with extra vulvas were extremely popular in Pennsylvania's southwestern coal-mining sectors.

I extended my left luggage finger at the airport till I got noticed by a multi-trillionaire with a large **** and big leather luggage. He was so manly in a masculine way that I swooned like a teen beauty queen who just got her ear lobes widened. "Hello **** airport babe!" He said with his large **** bulging out like crazy. I was so excited by seeing this that I confessed to being a multi-quadrillionaire. That night we made passionate "large ****" love near a dumpster behind Pizza Hut for 10 minutes.

A DIVINE MIRACLE OF AVIATION IN OLD NEW YORK CITY - Tim Browne flew his mighty airplane directly into the Empire State Building at 400-miles-per-hour. “Is everyone alright?!” He asked as wreckage was still hitting the pavement. “We're okay back here!” A young woman yelled from the rear. “I've never felt better!” Another passenger reported. “That's odd,” Tim said to his pretty girlfriend at his side. “I thought that crashing directly into the top floor of a very huge building at 400-miles-per-hour would surely have killed us all, considering the mega-extreme impact!” Later, it was determined by the federal aviation inspectors that Tim was pretty lucky to be alive 'cause crashing a plane at that deadly speed always kills everybody!

SLAY THE MONARCH & THE PROGRAM whilst ***** smokes
shadows upon walls indebting ***** to plucky seven vinegar strokes
I see no point projecting unlaid, lay-about chicks from routine coax
of Kabuki theater flim-flamming quackery that's a penny-ante hoax
wrecked banjaxed on grimy floors sudsed-in crap in which it soaks
I'll never see Cleveland alive as Mother is making it with some fly
whose stolen Detroit dives to hell under ***** bucks who are high
on fed cheese that is curdled & matured on the Chinese ****** lie
broadcasted across seas placid by radio hoo-hoo below half-life sky
tenting fortified wines blended with hops, barley and mildewed rye
in bath tubs devoid of naked wenches morally-wonked and gun-shy
working the angles on de-lousing Camden: old New Jersey's pig sty
because the sight of immorally-uncivil plans blind the Lutheran eye
Subhan Allah, David & Goliath, Samson & Delilah must wilt & die
as cities ***** & Gomorrah substituted fruit cake for pumpkin pie
legions of sodomites patrolled all alleyways as curfews didn't apply
when crusaders knighted moralistes Chrétiens were in short supply
& negroids unarmed had no choice in whitey nations but to comply
'cause guns over butter win the body-count, nobody alive can deny,
while prisoners without tongues are so stuck-up, they will not reply
till they overcome their dispositions as amputees tongue-tied & shy
about swift kicks to those Chaz Bono regions that cause men to cry
in an ionospheric register that shouldn't emanate from a normal dye
except in incorporated Amìr̃kà where each prison fry cook must fry
or suffer the fate that ruined commanding lieutenant William Bligh
whose sympathy was such that he'd have done better not to even try
tasteless breadfruit diplomacy upon a sweaty-palmed Christian guy
as it was a tipsy, get-go endeavor like herding cats & feeding slaves
or burying a whacked **** in any of Idaho's tourist-attracting caves
opposite a funky monument to governor Butch Otter making waves
without his buck teeth, quaffing ****** from barrels lacking staves
to enshrine an ape-scraped pate or picnicker's litany of close shaves
from the living, dying by demi-godlike, semi-doctors' clots & raves
in the bowels of the A.M.A. & the C.D.C. for Luciferian conclaves
while suppressing experiences of saving at Equibank in olden days
before gay Pittsburgh was inundated with homosexual lesbian gays
who imbibed ****-soaked chicory quenchers on pap-smeared trays

A city doctor moved to the country to become a farmer. He figured, “Since I’m going to have a farm, I might as well have animals on it.” So he got in his truck to go looking for animals. Along the way, he spotted a sign saying, “***** 4 Sale.” He pulled over and asked the farmer what a **** was. “A **** is a rooster,” the farmer replied. So the doctor bought a **** and put it in the back of his truck. The doctor continued on his way until he saw a sign saying, “Pullets 4 Sale.” He pulled over and asked the farmer what a pullet was. “A pullet is a hen,” the farmer replied. “But sometimes a **** and a pullet will fight, so watch out.” The doctor thanked the farmer and went on his merry way. Down the road a bit, there was another sign saying, “***** 4 Sale.” So the doctor pulled over again to ask about it. “An *** is a donkey,” the farmer told him. “But watch out, because this donkey is different. If he gets scared, he’ll sit down and won’t move until you scratch his belly.” The doctor thanked the farmer and turned around to head home. In the road was a broken bottle and the doctor ran his truck right over it. Pop!!! The sound made the **** and pullet start to fight, and the donkey sat on the spare tire. A lady just happened to be passing by and asked if the doctor needed help. The doctor, wanting to sound like a professional farmer, replied, “Yes, I need help. Will you please hold my **** and pullet while I scratch my ***?”

― Barry Dougherty, [Friars Club Private Joke File]

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For Palmerston North woman Val Burr, 71, the parole hearing process is one she’s used to. She dreads each August as she once again faces begging a panel of people not to let her daughter’s killer out of jail.

On September 15, 2002, 16-year-old John Wharekura knocked on the door of Tanya Burr’s Hilda St. flat and asked her for a piece of paper and pen, supposedly to write a note for a friend in a neighbouring flat.

When the 21-year-old turned, he went inside and stabbed her 15 times. At the time, he was one of New Zealand’s youngest killers and had an undiagnosed psychosis.

John Wharekura was 16 when he killed Tanya Burr, making him one of New Zealand's youngest killers at the time. Photo / NZME
John Wharekura was 16 when he killed Tanya Burr, making him one of New Zealand's youngest killers at the time. Photo / NZME

He was freed in 2018 following his 14-year non-parole period but recalled the following year after problems with adhering to parole conditions and his mental health. He has since been convicted of assault offences in prison.

In 2021, he was charged with wounding with intent to cause grievous ****** harm relating to an assault on another prisoner. The Auckland District Court confirmed to the Rotorua Daily Post no conviction was entered because he had an insanity defence.

Quash David Rockefeller's C.F.R. & New World Order mobocracy
Reject the totalitarian 51-over-49 rule that's modernized democracy
that sets in stone by presidential directive this American plutocracy,
through indoctrinating pederasty & lesbian *** to beget pornocracy
N.W.O.-owned corporations promote the freshest of youthful faces
having Hillary F. Clinton lesbian relations in crowded public places
Moral citizens must subdue these shrub-scouts with military maces
then bind them together with cheap lamp cord, twine & shoe laces,
before scrubbing the scene clean to obliterate all ****-diving traces
from mobs bleeding the white-funded black & sallow yellow races,
they take up  phony causes in nine of ten clinically-disproven cases
running Manchurian patsies & *** kittens through menticidal paces
During 1 bowel movement it was Martin Luther King, Junior's day
Quickly I finished a bowel movement as I worked for neighbor pay
These broad swords are no bowel-movement match for slim sabers
as all mates in the throes of bowel movement sing like Jim Nabors
on steroidal ointments that haven't made normal pigs into gay boars
sashaying along wharves in the guise of San Francisco Bay ******
soliciting gay Rabbinical Jewish mariners on sight-seeing day tours
while propositioning ******-hating, Jesus-loving Christian sailors

I was driving through the fiercest global-warming-spawned blizzard ever, returning to my favorite gun-free zone, when an avalanche (like the one that killed Michael Jackson) buried me. I suspected that I would die soon (or soon enough) if Christ didn't intercede chop chop! I remembered several Bible verses and the Russian adage: “pray to God but row to shore.” I thought of my mother, Mather (Pa.), Jerry Mathers and the logic behind injecting pigeon **** to remove tattoos. Suddenly and unexpectedly out of nowhere demons pulled my car (with me in it) to safety. “Hey, where's Jesus?” I asked. “He'll be here in five minutes,” they answered. “Five minutes?” I guffawed & pshawed. “He may as well not bother!”

I spend money like a drunken sailor dating a conniving cheap-skate
who flashed her 'possum in Pittsburgh alleys at ****** she did hate
God Bless all animals that were in the loving care of Lizzie Borden
'cause we are afflicted with a Jesuit pope who's always busy lordin'
In the dark all prostitutes are equal, dependin' on how you're sortin'
as gonorrheal discharges mean nothing to the babies they're abortin'
'cause amputees leaned on stuff before Lucy Ball wed Gary Morton
& hatred grew 'twixt Desi & Lucy when Lucy & Gary were courtin'
before Desi could win back Lucy's hot love which was only sportin'
even though it was with *****-***** that Lucy caught Desi cavortin'
in Cubano bars under tables tequila-drinkin' & *******-line snortin'
on the Black Isle Peninsula of boggish ol' Scotland's West Shoreton
home to sodomitically-apt girls espousing an Apocalyptical portend
that's ******* than Barb Walters' make-it-up-as-you-go-along reportin'
on a rookie L.A. pig with C-4 is preferable to a fugitive with a 4-10

I describe my baboon as baboon-shaped. Her name's Babs, which is
short for baboon. Sunday I pushed her to the library where we were
given a library balloon. It had snot on it, the balloon, because the li-
brarian had the Shanghai flu. I'll take my free-book-borrowing busi-
ness to Havana, Cuba, where snotty librarians are chippy chipper &
well & they never trim their dry quims & they're not bound for hell.

after buying for me a better purse. I felt my internal organs and they felt okay. I looked into the bomb crater and your uncle was gone, just like that. Here today, gone tomorrow. I hope that everything works out soon for you because you have a bowel problem. Please have my luggage destroyed. I can't face the responsibility of asking the garbage man for help a second time.