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GIANT ANTS FILM ABOUT CORPORATE RAPE OF MUSIC BLUEGRASS NEWS AND JAMS Whiskey Flat Days - celibration of mass murder and geneoside Dead Rat Song SONGS NEW SONGS POSTED bako u-f-o? The Lards part 1" will travel into the dark underworld of Bako-field, dark secrets of Bakos' Scooter Pie eating past. The Final Chapter comes this week! American Deldo, I' mean idol Farrell's Fabulous Fun is Back! January 07 February 07 March 07 April 07 May 07 June 07 July 07 August 07 September 07 October 07 November 07 December 07 January 08 February 08 March 08 April 08 May 08 June 08 July 08 August 08 September 08 October 08 November 08 December 08
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The Lards part 1" will travel into the dark underworld of Bako-field, dark secrets of Bakos' Scooter Pie eating past. The Final Chapter comes this week!
The Lards part 1" will travel into the dark underworld of Bako-field, dark secrets of Bakos' Scooter Pie eating past. The Final Chapter comes this week! LARDS PART 1 ( CHAPTER 1) (1) As the movie, War of the Gauguin II®., twinkled towards it’s harry end, Chubsy Wubsy giggled. A mas of empty candy wrappers and pop-corn fragments hovered beneath his blubbery set of chins -his ravenous mouth dropping crumbs with each chew cycle - and the copious m & m debris, his booming fart cast echos across the theater; the smell of the flatulence caused Fatty Theirbuckle to announce: “smells like Scooter Pies®.” ! All chewing stopped on a dime. If it were not for the War of the Gauguin II®, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. At the time Scooter Pies®. and Moon Pies®. were not available in CHAPTER 2 -EDITED FOR FAMILY (Geeting to “Hey fat boy, want some chow?” came a voice from an ice cream - snack truck that had just pulled up. Fatty stood in the burger parking lot, his hands in his left pocket, belly hunched, and with the hungry look on his face that Chubsy told him to always have. “Be the damn Porky Pig ®” Chubsy had told him. “Who?” “I dunno. Some dead cartoon pig with a star on the WB ® toons walk of fame.” “What kind of snacks you got?” Fatty said hogishly to the driver/vendor. “I got the sweet, carbo stuff. I got twinkies-soft and sweet. Whatever. You look like an obese kid, kinda hungry though” “Oh I ain’t hungry. I am full! That last 24 pack of ding-dongs hit the spot.” “Maybe you’re hungry for something moon shaped?” At that point the snack truck driver made his move, “Okay fat boy, no more messin’ around. Get in the back of the truck. The Mayor of Bakersfield is holding a Moon-pie ® eating contest at the “Fatty looked astounded, why didn’t you just say so!” And into the rear of the snack truck, it listed to the lft, it was a converted old Helms Bakery ® jobber, . The truck sped off like a bat out off hell, nicely packed, to hold in freshness and goodness, food snacks were flying everywhere. At one time, not long ago, a fleet of 300 Helms Bakery ® vans cruised the neighborhoods of the The old truck was jamming, I think it might have hit 45 mph on one decline near The truck game to rest on a dirt berm just outside the fort. Fatty leapt out of the back of the van with nearly supper human capacities and ran through the darkness toward the fort’s gate. “Its’ locked, ” yelled Fatty ® , he was screaming and crying. He took of quickly to the left like a tight end and jammed through the small ravine and through the muddy stream. One of Fatty’s feet sunk deep into the mud. When he took the next running step he had one shoe on and one shoe off, one muddy sock. When he came out of the brush he was on a straight spring across the lawn to the vague silhouette of an Andy Gump in the darkness. He leaped into the out-house- ripped a big one and the sides vibrated for several seconds. Before he could see any action he felt something move against his butt cheek. He hopped up and flicked on his lighted and looked down the hole. Slap!!! A huge bull frog had mistaken Fatties flatulence for a frog mating call and leaped vigorously onto Fatties face and had a death grip. The frog commenced humping fatties face, his left nostril to be exact. Fatty jumped back with such horror and fear that the door, with hinges, latches, and all flew out with him and hit the mud like bobsled. Fatty sledded down the pitch dark, muddy embankment with a full mooned booty and a frog stuck to his face. Smashing into an old cannon send Fatty airborne splashing down square in a mound of horse apples. The frog, finished with his business, hopped off Fatties face as if to go light a cigaret. Fatty looked up to see Baldy hovering over him with a flash light, he had heard Fatty’s muffled screams though the out-house walls. Baldy looked down at Fatty amidst the mud and the chirping crickets and began rambling on about the small bugs; “Dude did you know male crickets rub their wings together to attract females. You can measure the air temperature to within a few degrees by listening to a chirping cricket and applying a simple mathematical formula. 1. Count the number of times that the cricket chirps in 14 seconds. 2. Add 40 to this number. This will be the air temperature in degrees Fahrenheit. It’s pretty cold up here dude!” Baldy stood and watched as Fatty was forced to get up and recover on his own. Drawers still around his ankles, covered with mud and one shoe on and one dirty sock. He mad to the can and finished up his business, all the while Baldy listening to himself ramble on. “Oh yeah dude, I got a perfect ding dong box you can have as a shoe”.... Back in the van the dudes were heading down the vine, just before they hit the flats they could pick up Bakersfield Radio and crackling and fuzzy rendition of Homer Joy’s classic Buck Owens ® tune “Streets of Bakersfield”® , The dudes sang wildly along as they blazed down the dark grade into the Valley, Fatty keepin’ time with his new Ding Dong ® box shoe. . LARDS PART 1 ( CHAPTER 1) (1) As the movie, War of the Gauguin II®., twinkled towards it’s harry end, Chubsy Wubsy giggled. A mas of empty candy wrappers and pop-corn fragments hovered beneath his blubbery set of chins -his ravenous mouth dropping crumbs with each chew cycle - and the copious m & m debris, his booming fart cast echos across the theater; the smell of the flatulence caused Fatty Theirbuckle to announce: “smells like Scooter Pies®.” ! All chewing stopped on a dime. If it were not for the War of the Gauguin II®, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. At the time Scooter Pies®. and Moon Pies®. were not available in CHAPTER 2 -EDITED FOR FAMILY (Geeting to “Hey fat boy, want some chow?” came a voice from an ice cream - snack truck that had just pulled up. Fatty stood in the burger parking lot, his hands in his left pocket, belly hunched, and with the hungry look on his face that Chubsy told him to always have. “Be the damn Porky Pig ®” Chubsy had told him. “Who?” “I dunno. Some dead cartoon pig with a star on the WB ® toons walk of fame.” “What kind of snacks you got?” Fatty said hogishly to the driver/vendor. “I got the sweet, carbo stuff. I got twinkies-soft and sweet. Whatever. You look like an obese kid, kinda hungry though” “Oh I ain’t hungry. I am full! That last 24 pack of ding-dongs hit the spot.” “Maybe you’re hungry for something moon shaped?” At that point the snack truck driver made his move, “Okay fat boy, no more messin’ around. Get in the back of the truck. The Mayor of Bakersfield is holding a Moon-pie ® eating contest at the “Fatty looked astounded, why didn’t you just say so!” And into the rear of the snack truck, it listed to the lft, it was a converted old Helms Bakery ® jobber, . The truck sped off like a bat out off hell, nicely packed, to hold in freshness and goodness, food snacks were flying everywhere. At one time, not long ago, a fleet of 300 Helms Bakery ® vans cruised the neighborhoods of the The old truck was jamming, I think it might have hit 45 mph on one decline near The truck game to rest on a dirt berm just outside the fort. Fatty leapt out of the back of the van with nearly supper human capacities and ran through the darkness toward the fort’s gate. “Its’ locked, ” yelled Fatty ® , he was screaming and crying. He took of quickly to the left like a tight end and jammed through the small ravine and through the muddy stream. One of Fatty’s feet sunk deep into the mud. When he took the next running step he had one shoe on and one shoe off, one muddy sock. When he came out of the brush he was on a straight spring across the lawn to the vague silhouette of an Andy Gump in the darkness. He leaped into the out-house- ripped a big one and the sides vibrated for several seconds. Before he could see any action he felt something move against his butt cheek. He hopped up and flicked on his lighted and looked down the hole. Slap!!! A huge bull frog had mistaken Fatties flatulence for a frog mating call and leaped vigorously onto Fatties face and had a death grip. The frog commenced humping fatties face, his left nostril to be exact. Fatty jumped back with such horror and fear that the door, with hinges, latches, and all flew out with him and hit the mud like bobsled. Fatty sledded down the pitch dark, muddy embankment with a full mooned booty and a frog stuck to his face. Smashing into an old cannon send Fatty airborne splashing down square in a mound of horse apples. The frog, finished with his business, hopped off Fatties face as if to go light a cigaret. Fatty looked up to see Baldy hovering over him with a flash light, he had heard Fatty’s muffled screams though the out-house walls. Baldy looked down at Fatty amidst the mud and the chirping crickets and began rambling on about the small bugs; “Dude did you know male crickets rub their wings together to attract females. You can measure the air temperature to within a few degrees by listening to a chirping cricket and applying a simple mathematical formula. 1. Count the number of times that the cricket chirps in 14 seconds. 2. Add 40 to this number. This will be the air temperature in degrees Fahrenheit. It’s pretty cold up here dude!” Baldy stood and watched as Fatty was forced to get up and recover on his own. Drawers still around his ankles, covered with mud and one shoe on and one dirty sock. He mad to the can and finished up his business, all the while Baldy listening to himself ramble on. “Oh yeah dude, I got a perfect ding dong box you can have as a shoe”.... Back in the van the dudes were heading down the vine, just before they hit the flats they could pick up Bakersfield Radio and crackling and fuzzy rendition of Homer Joy’s classic Buck Owens ® tune “Streets of Bakersfield”® , The dudes sang wildly along as they blazed down the dark grade into the Valley, Fatty keepin’ time with his new Ding Dong ® box shoe. . 0 comments from 0 users
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