Things people say...

[M C hammered]

Fokes, at times I may be sittin there, quite stoned and amblivious,
when someone, some friend or foe, some angel or debbil, might say
"Charlie how comes yer always postin to RM-firkin-B, defendin the
Yoke?? You KNOW you don't lissen to her shit music. Is it just
because you met her once, and touched her almost?"

To which I duly respond. Yes I met her. You bet I friggin met her!!
John Lennon's frikkin wife I blieve, and that aint zackly small
taters! He was a Beatle wasn't he? Then raisin Sean, bakin bread,
starin out at the ole TV, quite stoned and blissful as am I. I met
the Yoke and you dint! and you never firkin will! I met her and
touched her...almost, since she grimaced and flinched and pulled away,
gettin a whiff of my malt liquor and reefer breath, my sweaty musky
male aroma, my unwashed hairy flabby smelly body much like her own.
she pulled away from me, so I din't get to do it. But each time I
member those sacred moments, blessed and watched over by Karma and
Elliot, his face an image of ruddy manliness, gun in its holster
prepared to explode...say did I ever tellya bout the time I met Clint
Eastwood?