Well sir, I’ve been thinking of patenting my new discovery. I just found how your wife – yes, your very darling wife – can lose more weight than she ever dreamed of, and results are guaranteed!! No, friend, this is not a gimmick. (Just don’t go copying my concept without legal permission.) All’s you have to do – I can hardly believe this – is substitute a scale graduated in Kilograms, not in Pounds – and presto, your wife weighs HALF of her fat self. Boy, will she be pleased! And YOU’LL be her hero!
But wait! There’s more! Say, if your mother-in-law lives only twenty-five miles from your home and your wife keeps pestering you to go visit every Sunday during football season… well, yes, I have a dandy solution to that conundrum as well. Switch from Miles to Kilometers – and you got yourself an airtight excuse NOT to drive that far. “Why, Mabel, that’s WELL over FORTY kilometers!” Who can argue with that logic? I dare you!! You WILL get results!
And for those really intimate moments with the Missus, when you fall into a rapture contemplating one another’s private parts, you can whisper your member’s length – not in inches, but in centimeters, which I can guarantee will fall into the teens and thereby earn you permanent bragging rights. I’m telling you now, and I’ll tell you again – going Metric is cheaper than Viagra. And I don’t need to warn you to call some damn-fool doctor for a result that will last WELL over four hours. So go on! Amaze her!
Friend, there’s so much more! Just ask for my fully-illustrated booklet which you can peruse in the privacy of your own home. Ah, neighbor, I couldn’t and certainly wouldn’t keep such inventive genius hidden under the basket for very long. No, sir!
Now you go on and do what’s right for you!
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Dafofa July
I believe we should honor all them who gave up their lives and other choice body parts just so that the rest of us can live under the blessings of autonomous freedom, don’t you agree? So every Fourth of July I invite the in-laws over for my patented barbecued fried chicken – every last lip-smacking one of them.
When you honor the departed, it’s best to keep a moment of silence. Well we bettered that principle once over again. We don’t say nary a word when we tear those chickens apart. That’s the least can do to show our respect. And I’m here to tell you -- those boys can eat! Those bones pile up all around just like our heroes did right there on the shores of Montezuma.
Boy, I can’t even count the garbage bags we filled up with chicken bones the last Fourth. Why, we plum ran through the whole frigidator and even the spare one downstairs. So I had to pay an emergency visit to Colonel Sanders, himself a war hero, and got back just in time too.
And at the end of the day, when we retire to the back port to watch them fireworks go off, why, all you hear is burbs – sort of like the frog pond out back. It’s so sad to see all the assorted relatives head home after the last ka-pow fades in the sky. But this year I’m determined to keep up the fun year round. How?
Well, every now and again I haul out those bags of bones, open ‘em up, and just feast my eyes on all those ribs and thigh bones and what-not, and relive the stirring moments of yesteryear’s patriotic fervor. It can downright bring tears to a man’s eyes. The missus says, yes, she understands, and that if I feel so strongly about, why to go right ahead, and she’ll support me.
You know, I’ve heard it said, “You don’t appreciate nothing until you lose it,” well, sir, rest assured I don’t plan on losing these here bags! No, sir!
When you honor the departed, it’s best to keep a moment of silence. Well we bettered that principle once over again. We don’t say nary a word when we tear those chickens apart. That’s the least can do to show our respect. And I’m here to tell you -- those boys can eat! Those bones pile up all around just like our heroes did right there on the shores of Montezuma.
Boy, I can’t even count the garbage bags we filled up with chicken bones the last Fourth. Why, we plum ran through the whole frigidator and even the spare one downstairs. So I had to pay an emergency visit to Colonel Sanders, himself a war hero, and got back just in time too.
And at the end of the day, when we retire to the back port to watch them fireworks go off, why, all you hear is burbs – sort of like the frog pond out back. It’s so sad to see all the assorted relatives head home after the last ka-pow fades in the sky. But this year I’m determined to keep up the fun year round. How?
Well, every now and again I haul out those bags of bones, open ‘em up, and just feast my eyes on all those ribs and thigh bones and what-not, and relive the stirring moments of yesteryear’s patriotic fervor. It can downright bring tears to a man’s eyes. The missus says, yes, she understands, and that if I feel so strongly about, why to go right ahead, and she’ll support me.
You know, I’ve heard it said, “You don’t appreciate nothing until you lose it,” well, sir, rest assured I don’t plan on losing these here bags! No, sir!
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