Mr. Wednesday's latest activity

Clearly, sleep deprivation humor is setting in...

Picturing some skeezy motherfucker sidling up, buying a pontoon boat, and I go, "Aw riiight... party time, eh, m' man? Yehhh... that's...

Now I'm pondering a life of crime as an illicit boat pusher.

Now I'm picturing you lurking in an alley downtown wearing a black trenchcoat, going, "Psssst! Hey, *buddy*... wanna buy a boat?" then...

Some might notice that I invent my own insults. That's because using other peoples' insults is like wearing second-hand underwear. Sure...

Oh, frood's here. I have that limpwit biscuitfucker muted.

Well, that's not very nice, specifically at 0526 on a Sunday.

Who, me?

Yup. "It's the Rapture! Yeee-haw!"

But if he floats up into the clouds, it's 6 weeks of Tie Helium Balloons To The Schizophrenic Street Preacher Season.

Fuck Jesus in the ear with a wet iguana.

Huh. That sounds like the name of an impressively shitty '70s punk band. "Rocksalt Dildo, one night only at the Garage-O-Plex!"

I dunno.

Rocksalt dildo?