From the obscure comic strip, “Cowboys & Indians & Aliens & Pop-Tarts® In Area 51”. Not to be confused with the adult film, “Cowboys & Pussy”.
I was sent to prison for a crime I did not commit. Because of the color of my skin, I was sentenced to death by hard labor. I learned a difficult lesson about the unfair system of justice for those who can’t afford it. I swore on that day, I would not die in vain. In fact, I caught myself shaking my fist in the air, as if cursing the heavens.
King Louie of “Jungle Book” was originally a role for Louis Armstrong, but due to fear of blacklash, the role was given to the white Louie Prima.
Louis Featherbottom Jr. had legs for arms, and arms for legs, thus, feet for hands, and hands for feet. In short, he did not look correct. Despite this disposition, he walked with his head held high. When he walked, it was with the lope of a happy-go-lucky orangutan. This too, did not look correct.
Yanny or laurel?
Truth was, back in the day, you didn’t need a gun to tell someone to shut the fuck up. We used words and a serious amount of attitude, and only if we had to, we resorted to a rock with a knife duct-taped to it. You see, guns were exclusively used by cowboys, gangsters, police, hunters, army folk and eager carpenters. Not like today. Everyone uses guns like haphazard air quotes, with reckless abandon. Owning a firearm is the new passive suicide, killing yourself in the laziest way possible, replacing the thrill of texting while driving on the highway.
Thomas McDougal did not give one damn, but on occasion, when he was rip roaring drunk, he had been known to give up to eight damns.
Now a mash up.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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