Some hooligan sent me a telegram the other day asking for a barrel of salted pork. Like I have salted pork! The last time I tasted it was in Berlin, 1982. So sorry to sink your ship, hooligan personage. But it had to be done before someone decided to wiretap me. You can never be too careful when someone is about to tap you with a wire...those things are pokey. Now do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about, that's what it's all about, budoom boom boom, turkey fries, turkey fries, oh, turkey-turkey fries. And chaps, lots of chaps with the hoodlum pony tail. You've got issues, my friend, if you don't scrape the apple sauce from the sides of the bowl. Get all you can get, know what I mean? So yeah, I love rodeos and keychains. They really throw me for a loop-de-loop. Like yesterday, when I chainsawed my neighbor's lawnmower. He didn't particularly like that. Whoops. How the heck am I supposed to know a lawnmower from a minotaur? Give me a break, Buddy Holly. There's no where in Toledo that I'm falling for that one.
#youwishyouwereme
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