Some questions:
How many times a week are you required to suck Bob Dean's flaccid little
dick?
Have you ever made sense in your life? When? Provide an example.
When did you first decide to become a whining little sycophant to a
tenth-rate kook who can't even write his own material? Did you dream of it
when you were a little boy? Did you masturbate yourself to sleep thinking of
it?
Do you ever get to hold the funnel while Carolyn Dean pours French Roast
into her husband's rectum?
Why are there no girl deanies - except for Kurt Weller?
Why don't you get it?
You say that like its a bad thing...