Humor, Politics
Comment 1

I apologize in advance…

*** WARNING *** THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. NOR IS IT INTENDED FOR THOSE MORE GENTEEL MEMBERS OF SOCIETY; PEOPLE WHO MIGHT TAKE EXCEPTION WITH BOBBY BOWDEN UTTERING THE PHRASE ‘DAD GUM’ ON NATIONAL TELEVISION. IF YOU ARE THIS TYPE OF PERSON – THE TYPE THAT BLUSHES AT THE VERY MENTION OF THE COMMON SPECIES OF BIRD KNOWN AS THE TITMOUSE – THEN PLEASE, DO NOT READ THIS POST…

You would be better served viewing calming and benign pictures of unoffensive nature, such as this one

Weiner, Weiner, Weiner…

Say it with me, folks, in the style of the centuries old, cross cultural taunt that seems to be universal, at least among homo sapiens….

I refer to, of course, the one… the only

The ‘neiner, neiner, neiner…’

Ah, the classics…

The Urban Dictionary defines a ‘neiner’ as 1) A person that is annoying (check), 2) A thing that bothers (quite probably, and… check), and 3) Some(one) who acts Delirious for a Long Period of Time (let’s see… That’s a check, a quite probably (check) and yet another… check…) The capitalization in number 3 is from the website; it’s as if they are quoting a book title, or a Native American warrior’s name… “What for dinner, She Who Cook With Blatant Disregard for Vegan Brave?” “Tube steak, oh Purple Helmeted Love Warrior…” When I was in high school, the Physics teacher mentioned that he had seen a study that postulated that ‘neiner, neiner, neiner’ was the one bit of melody that was universally present in every culture and subset known to man. That, and the most popular girls name on the planet seems to be ‘Rosy Palm…’

All of which means that the entire planet is now laughing at us…

Yes, just now… (What do you mean by that…?)

Oddly enough, ‘neiner’ is also the mating cry of the common titmouse…

Maybe we’ve been unjust to the Congressman… Maybe he’s just a frustrated small bird trapped inside a donkeys’ body… Or a jackass…

Bird’s go ’tweet’, don’t they…? Sending these kinds of messages is called ‘tweeting’, isn’t it…? Anybody know if his tweets included sound…?

Anyone…? Anyone…? Bueller…? Bueller…?

All… to-ge-ther now (alltogethernow…)

Weiner, Weiner, Weiner…

Weiner, Weiner, Weiner…

I know this probably seems childish… It probably is childish… But, I mean, honestly

Taking pictures of your junk, and sending them to people you haven’t even met…?

If that’s not childish, or at best junior high-ish, then what is…?

Okay… I’m game… I can do childish with the best of them… (obviously…) After all, I’m only tree and a half years old…

Who’s going to be the first to go up to this guy and say something along the lines of (in a variation of yet another classic of the repertory);

Wiener, Weiner, pants on…

Let’s just start with that and see how far we get, shall we…? Hmmmmmm…?

Or, if you prefer a more gastronomically centered approach, there’s always the:

Neiner Neiner Weiner…  An outstanding example of the quick thinking American spirit of free enterprise and the market place at work.

No word on if the entree comes ensconced in boxers or briefs… There’s also no word on the demographics of the customer base… I’ll leave that to your imagination…

One reviewer found the establishment closing more than half an hour earlier than posted hours, in spite of customers lined up to purchase the testicular treats…

So much for the market place… Obviously this eatery employs Communists from some barbarian Vandal horde… Probably off practicing their decadent and immoral communist dances, like the Dragon Drain or the Monkey Spank, the Walrus Wiggle or the Twinkie Tweak, not to mention the White Knuckler, while hard working decent folk (i.e. Patriots) are just looking for a little opportunistic nookie nutrition before going off to learn how to Waltz with Mr. Winkie and Auditioning their Hand Puppets… Those godless heathens would never free Willy; only Whack him…

I find it not uninteresting that this eating establishment is located in Washington State, where the recipient of the rapturous revelation is rumored to reside…

No word on if she relishes relish on her hotdog…

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Rosy and I are going to meet her five sisters for dinner…

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1 Comment

  1. I would just like to state, for the record, that I have no idea how it came to pass (and Lo…) that I ‘like’ this post. I mean, I wrote it, so one would assume that I ‘like’ it, but I wouldn’t actually rate my own posts….That would be like reviewing your own books on Amazon, which as we all know is impossible and has NEVER happened…. Oh, and, um, I never tweeted my junk and I don’t know whose junk that is but that depends on what your definition of the word ‘is’ is and I never had sexual relations with that woman… World without end… Amen

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