Do you know what's ribbed for his pleasure? PORK.

See you next year or the next dimensional portal or through the gateway of eternal light and grape Kool-Aid we entrust the neurons to be firing on all cylinders this weekend of new beginnings and poor judgment.  What happened last year stays in last year unless you’re going to prison…like tax evasion…I thought tax evasion was called buying things at garage sales.

 

Let’s sit down the kids and tell them that when we die its final so live your life to the fullest and if you ever think you’re going to die that’s when you blow all your money on a drunken mini golf marathon through the local business district in velvet green pants, orange braided belt, no shirt, no socks, penny loafers, a big bottle of sweet vermouth, a double barrel Nerf gun, a purple fedora with a peacock feather, a couple of bronze nipple rings with red LEDs that flash every three seconds, cataract contact lenses, fake long black press on nails, a black X painted across your back, two air horns mounted on your head calibrated to go off every time you break wind and a posse of a dozen three legged donkeys with orange hats with yellow feathers and blue painted hooves with gold trim.

 

Yea it’s like that and you know it is.