Tag Archives: America

Oil Based

Yo! Gimme’ big hit of that oil-based shit!

That sweet crude that rips apart my brain, sends me on another plane!

Dig deep in that sack for a big oily head banging blast!

Man, it’s good in all countries, shit’s going fast!

Where else can I find an oily trip?

Who else can I blast?

Who’s giving me lip?

Who gives a mad fuck ‘bout that Nuclear trip.

I need to see murder for that oily shit!

I fix fiend, and frack for that liquid crack!

Clock my dollars often so I can get another sack.

I don’t care who lied, cried, or died, inject me with oil and keep me satisfied.

Climate change, warming sphere I don’t give a fuck!

Another drone strike sounds like your bad luck!

I need mine now, I ain’t playing with you!

Gimme my fuel, or I’ll fucking blast you!

 

Fourscore And A Little More

Fantastic Scams™

Bait And Switch®

Meteoric Rise©

Easy Money™

You’d be a fool not to fall for a this! Don’t miss the boat! The trains leaving the station! You’ll be living a lifelong vacation! Work from home! Make $8000.00 monthly posting ads for Sir E-Bay & Lady Google!

Jack off or diddle your cunt, while you watch the latest version of Alan Funt!

Excuse the candor and rancor But let’s get to the pointless meaning of what I’m screaming. The easy money is for easy wallets, with disposable Dead Presidents past and present. Otherwise, You’re the pheasant for a ‘Cheney like’ hunter, you’ll be put out to pasture in a dead field of wheatgrass, just what do I mean?

They’ll wax that ass, then put you in the Unseen Museum… Where a thousand dead souls spend recess doing the dance of a thousand recessions, coupled with a line dance featuring the legacy and the lord of this dance the one and only, Sir Ronnie Ray Gun – cutting a rug and a budget with a trickle-down break dancing routine that will have you squirming in your (once upon a time) Wrangler Jeans.

…Meanwhile, Tommy Two times at the outdoor bar repeating, “You know what I mean? You know what I mean?”

If that isn’t enough, Well I don’t mean to get gruff, but you can high tail it (or Low ride) back to Toonerville, Tommy! And take that Pitbull with ya’- He’s bad for business! Seems he ate all the gunpowder and blood sausage. And he makes whitey uptighty. He’s not fixed and his balls collide with the consciousness of dimly lit buffoons. And you there, yes you, where you from, Rangoon? Or another place?

I can’t place the face, but we don’t allow that click-click language in this here saloon so hit the bricks and tell your story walking or face La Migra, who are suffering from maximum migraines brought on by the same paranoia of the simple solipsistic suckas that sing and dance to the drum of Sir Donnie’s Republican Tantrum.