Dear Doctor Down-Down,
Don’t you think the Boy Scouts should be able to ban gays and still get federal and state funding? I mean, didn’t God make Boy Scouts with little penises so that they could put them into little girls’ vaginas? Am I wrong? Am I wrong?
On Your TV
You’re not wrong. You’re not wrong. Fuck, you’ve got me doing it . . . settle down, you hysterical bitch! Anyway, Flying Booger and I got drunk in the monkey lab last night, and he taught me a song he wrote. It goes to the tune of “We’re in the Money“, from the Broadway musical “42nd Street”:
There’ll be a merit badge for camping while fey!
We’re in the Boy Scouts, never you mind why,
Meanie homophobes, we’ll make you see it our way.We never see a headline about perverts today.
And when we see the vice squad we can look those studs right in the eye.We’re in the Senate, we’re on the TV,
You will believe that what we do isn’t wrong!
Musical bridge (as they say in the Kareoke bars) . . .
(Oh yes!) We’re on your corner, (Dear boy!) we’re out in your street,
We’ve got a gay bar right next to your church!
(Let’s go!) We’re in your kid’s school, (Kiss kiss!) there is a new rule,
Give up and take it up the ass like a man!
Reporters never talk about the “Gay Agenda” today.
And when we march for gay pride we just flounce and mince and swish away.
We’re in the Boy Scouts, come on, my Brucie,
Let’s hug and bugger, I just love your uniform!
Dr. Down-DownDear Doctor Down-Down,
If you introduce your dog to the mysteries of the Peanut Butter Kama Sutra (henceforth to be known as the Peana Sutra), are you actually having sex or are you just three bimbos trying to make the dish that only Pay Per View can pronounce? Don’t ask me to type it, if I can’t say it or pronouce it, is it truly worth it? Plus, Battered Woman wants to know, if the fiancee is out of town, is it being unfaithful to become closer to your female friends with the help of the dog while exploring the multiple ways of applying a gallon jug of Peana Sutra? Does it matter that PPV prefers creamy while Watergate and Battered Woman prefer extra chunky (“Give me all the nuts you got, baby” – yes, that’s a direct quote)? Are you jealous that the webcam is unavailable at this moment? p.s. Alcohol is a wonderous thing. . . .
You think you’re drunk? You should have been here when Flying Booger got the brilliant idea to try something similar with a dead gopher tied to his balls, a hill of red ants, and Nurse W’s South African aardvark, Mbwana. Before Mbwana could even get his tongue limbered up, the ants had skeletonized the gopher and were starting in on Booger’s parts. The good news is Booger’s dick wound up ten times larger than before. The bad news is so did his scrotum. And scream . . . I never want to hear that again!
Alcohol may be a wonderous thing, but I’d have to drink a boatload to think that three ladies with peanut butter smeared all over their privates, looking like three babies in the middle of a diaper changeout, is a sexy thing. Eccccch!
Mayo, now, and you’ll have me down on all fours . . . woof!
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