Posted on November 22nd, 2005 by Gavin M.
The Poor Man
The central front in the war on wingnuttery
It’s hard to type because my hands are so soft and mushy. I have to, like, squidge them carefully onto the keys. And that’s because…
[knock knock knock]
“Wha? Oh, Brad. Come on in; it’s open.”
“Hey! Sorry, I have to move kinda slowly because I am so freakin’ soft and brown.”
“I know, man. It sucks being chopped liver.”
Because you know, what are we? We’re chopped liver.

Chopped liver
In addition, it’s difficult to type and concentrate because…
“[Whistle-whistle-whistle… whoo-whoo! whoo-whoo…!]”
“Oh yeah, I hear that! [Whistle-whistle-whoostle… whoo-whoo! whoo-whoo…!]”
“That’s solid, dude!”
“Yeah man, I never get tired of whistling ‘Dixie.’
And then the [muffle-wuffle].”
“[Wuffle?]”
“[Murfle-wurfle. Muffa-wuffa-wuffa.]”
“Damn, I dropped my hat.”
“So talk up your sleeve, like this: [Wuffa-muffa-wuh!]”
[proot-proot!]
“Or sure, out of your ass, whatever — wait, look out!”
[BOOM!]

“BOOM”
“Aaah, my ass!”
“Sorry dude, I was hanging fire.”