The gangland baseball star established a huge mafia umpire. Of course, he won’t say a word about his past hits: He follows the code of homerta, and brushes off all allegations as baseless. But he has been seen patrolling the alleys, and out of left field, he takes a swing at the pitcher. ‘Don’t try to put one past a man with three balls,’ he gloats. Despite facing the heat for two controversial strikes–and repeatedly ending up in foul territory–he ends up walking. Of course, the other guys balk. The next inning he decides to stick a cap on a fan. This time the hard liners get to him. So he winds up in the pen. Before, he would feast on sliders, but now he kills time sacrificing flies and collecting booze tins on his mickey mantle. Some say he dabbles in CyYoungtology. During this short stop, he pulls off a deadly sidearm delivery. He rallies, ends up running all the bases, and despite being violently tagged, he makes it home, safe. The truth of the matter? You could ask the catcher, but the catcher knows squat.
Pat’s 2009 Pun Off “Punniest of Show” Routine :: Farts and Terrorism
I’ll cut to the cheese: I had a you reeka moment while reading an article in Ass Choir magazine.
It said that though Western peoples are controlling their emissions, there are still vast buildups of natural gas, held in tense grip between belligerent Cheeks in the Mid East.
This has led to methane-ous crimes among Arab arsetalkocracies, including the assgassination of the Blue Angel, leader of the Fartsee people, which has the hole region under a terrible cloud. The stealth bomber let loose in a crowded theatre hot box; it was John Wilts-the-Booth, a has-beans actor, aka Jack the Ripper, who suffocated his victim in the dark.
Since then, nonstop stench warfare: silent-but-deadly rocket blasts (outside the Qatar embarrassee) and the cries of aerate sirens. Ol factories have been odoured shut down for safety. In Krakow meanwhile, Eeeeewww leaders have held nothing in there but talks for days– many high rank officials are holding their noses in response to the colon of doody.
Egyptian statesman Atef Ebeid (Burrito) also scented a strong message: He let one slip recently, boasting “In Egypt, we have ‘toot’ in common. We created the mysterious Sphinx, which baffle the world. Now we have a mighty Force of Air. Let smell-odious trumpets sound! Let the infidels sulphur!”
I’m no Nostrildamus, but my analysis? Throw caulking to the wind, and plug holes in these terrorassts: That would help rectumfy everything before it goes any farter!
Thank you, it’s been a slice.