Monday, June 04, 2012

Why my arms are always sore

It's not easy going around all day, every day with your arms in the air, making every interaction a show tune -- and not only that, but performing the entirety of your life as a never-ending grand finale.

Frankly, if I could put my arms down, I would listen to some Stan Freberg as I drank a cup of Butternut coffee and gazed at the Omaha Moon.

Which, unfortunately, also shines on those hillbillies in Council Bluffs, Iowa, where the meth-ravaged, trailer-dwelling populace routinely tolerates gnomelike Mexican dwarfs dumping all their Butternut into the Mighty Mo and hanging the empty tins in the city's trees.

Ahamo! AAAAAAAAAAA-haaaaaaaaaaaaa-MOOOWWWW!!!

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