The Beefalo Magnet leaves everything to be desired.

The numbing meson plus of my reality is laid out in front of me from math to physics from Jell-O to Diet Pepsi from Kazakhstan to Delaware from Chi Chi Rodriguez to Buddha from Pink to Seagull Salad. Why not eat a bear? Why not eat deep fried Manwich wrapped in a day old banana peel? How do you know when a horse needs to floss? What is horse breath? Well partner its sweet alfalfa, corn and apples.

I couldn’t kiss a dog but I could kiss a horse. I don’t like dog breath. Dog farts and horse farts are equally disgusting in my opinion. I’m curious if someone out there has gone around the world and measured the PH of animal farts, that’s an anthology I would read but no scratch and sniff please. There are so many uses for farts in a can, but I’m not sure I want to look for it. Would it be farts in a can or just really long loud one? I can imagine that there would be different attachments for different noises beyond the silent one. The possibilities are endless. I think it would be even better if we could “flavor” helium with the smell of fart and fill some balloons at a party. Maybe on the balloon itself it would be written: “Pop Me!” Oh what fun would be had…

Cotton Candy is the name of the crystalline entity in Star Trek. It was in a galactic burlesque show: Crytals of Zernox Three. Until its national universe space radio grant fell through and the show had to rely on ticket sales.

“Ride the Bull” is what I call my daily jaunt in the bathroom.

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