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Naked Brunch

The Man is never on time... I've waited long enough. I'll give him another five minutes. I have to get back and log the information otherwise I'll forget it. Sure as eggs is eggs. Goddam liberal Wikifacists. Making me cuss again. What was it now? Think visually. Make a connection with an image and I'll remember. OK. The number 11 is strands of spaghetti, foreign, Italian. Mexican illegal immigrants working in California, responsible for 80% of strawberries worldwide. Eleven million all told. The Bank of America's unpatriotic greed in giving these people credit cards. Saying free market is one thing, actually having one, God no. I don't want to gamble with my money. That's what these communists and liberals don't understand with their New England accents and British spellchecks. Conservipedia will give those liberals hell so help me God. I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil websites, hacking into the good Lord on line. I shall cast them off the Internet, hijack their search engine and start west. Straight after I've seen my man... boy is he late. First thing you learn is you always gotta wait. Lord knows, heaven and heroin got a helluva lot in common.

Story by:

Phil Doran

submitted at 12:03am

13 June 2009

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