May, 2007, Volume 14 Nr.
9, Issue 228
Ramblings With A Child By My Side
(For I am an Amerikan Man)
Bare tits and all
what's happened to everyone's soul?
Drowned in Quiche
polluted in FD & C red dye #2.
That enigma, the purported
eternal life has squandered
its existence in the quagmire of the confessional.
- Holy, holy, holy, Lord
hosts. Heaven and Earth
are said to be your Glory!
Jesus, have you read Dear Abby?
Christmas is coming and
the Christians are running scared.
What will they do this holiday season?
Peace on Earth. Good will to men!
What about the women? Oh well!
It's the thought that counts
The nipples are facing
toward the wind. Areoli, tan
and full mooned stare at instant
mashed potatoes as the dead
bird lying on the table, stuffed,
elicits a drool from a long
row of low life. Pavlov and
his dog. The hell with tradition!
No bottles! Lift that blouse
tote that breast, expose yourself
to your baby and you may
wind up in jail
Where are my presents? Is
my hemlock sitting under
the tree in Bamm Hallow?
Oh Lord won't you buy me
a quart of Similac. My peers
always bottle feed, I
must lack some tact. Worked
hard all my lifetime to grow
and change my ways. I
work toward revolution for
the rest of my days.
Must be the full moon. No
other explanation. Good mornin'
Amerika. How are you? Is your
throat sore from lying? Does
your liver loose its flavor on the
wine rack overnight? Oh what the
hell! You only live once. Pour
another round. I love children,
especially when they're not born.
Imagine, if children were not
brought into existence, no-one
would be bare-breasted. The
only tits to see would be on TV.
Holy Gunsmoke Batman! Dr. Welby's
Ironsides Mash Laverne and
Sirley's Mickey Mouse. Archie's
Place Tomorrow. Gilligan's Island
Today. Oh God! How I hate to hold
the barrel of my gun as Miss
Amerika (spelled with a "K") stuffs
her bra. Why would one suck
flesh nipples when they can chew
Kleenex and sip soy milk
through a silicon flavor straw.
Pigout! Cordon blues! Eat. drink
and be merry for tomorrow we
turn serious. We're serious men
and WE run the world! Really!
Honest! We're serious.
No! Not now! Please!! Don't
unhook that strap !*! Not
here! Not now! There's no sex
involved with that jug. What
a waste. You know what they
say, "anything over a mouthful
is a waste". How much of a
38 double "D" cup bra can be
stuffed into an infant's mouth
anyway? Squandering our
natural resources the breasts
are left to liberate new life from
allergies. Faster than melting
utter butter; taller than a
kumquat; able to leap out of a
brassiere in a single bounce.
It's a bird! It's a shame! It's
the left tit! Mild mannered
mammary gland dedicated
to truth, no jaundice and the
American way (spelled with a "K"
Titties and beer! Titties and beer.
Oh Schlitz! She's a Miller with
I Becks a fine Heinecken. Once a
year she gets a Pabst smear and
Coors like a dove. In summer
she Piels after sunbathing on a
Rolling Rock. I watch her as she
plays with her Ballantine. Where in
ale are my titties and beer? I'll
make her - pretty and smooth. I'll
Schaefer underarms, legs, and face
until she's Lowenbrau. Nothing
like it, titties and beer. Sorry
son. A week old today, you're a
man just like your dad. Pick
up the bottle boy! You too will
love titties and beer someday.
Small tits, medium tits, big tits,
I love them all. Cross my heart.
They're just Playtex like
any thing else. I can Bali hide
my enthusiasm. Woman, you were
a fine addition to man even at
the cost of as rib. Your outer
Kotex of skin is as smooth and
soft as a baby's. Please don't
tampon me. Instead, girdle
my insanity for 16 hours while
I watch your cellophane
fingernails grow. Maybelline
why can't you be true. Panty
hose makes it a touch more
interesting. Engineers take note:
they make great slingshots.
Seriously folks! Remember them?
They're running our world.
From Seriouscuse comes the
final word - final. Mary
was a virgin. (Note the was).
She conceived the Prince of
Peace at a time when breasts
and babies associated with each
each other. Today, that is
no longer the case. It is
utterly ridiculous to shoulder
a boulder without a holder in
public. Breasts belong in their
place! Titties and beer; mom's
apple pie; guns and men; these
made Amerika (spelled with a "K")
great. I'll shoot the first tit
that eats my pie, steals my truck,
and drinks my beer for I am
an Amerikan man (spelled with a
"K" of course).
1981, 2007 Jozef