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PeePee and Venus FunPage

Featuring the VP's Penis


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06:05 p.m.

Dissing on 'Black Snakes'? Yo. Don't go there, motherfucker.

10:56 p.m.

Punctilious Clay wrote:
Truth is real.

Noway because Eimstein prooved that it's all relative man, everything's relative, and this guy Gooble or something like a Russian or something prooved that we can't know anything.

10:51 p.m.

From a dram of dream, from famous old days, good to see what time it isnow, without what for say there are toothpaste trucks driving down my street: I've been surged with a sherry of my pears, which is not a rake. They are Venetian blinds the wrong size. The eye-wrinkled steak, dried over the hansom-cab rail at day, was tougher on tooth than on knife. From Beirut to Bayreuth, a reckless ride through deserts and forests; yes, I remember the late stretch: we had to scrape the hedgehog and salamander guts off the wheels. A plumb line off m' balkonny. I miss April 2 by a mile, cuz that I am getting stinkweed for outside my porch: relay to Poncho. Ask your butthead honcho what's all this claim-stakin' is all bout, anyhowze.

06:21 p.m.

Chesty Elvis:
Oy!

04:45 p.m.

Episode 10:
From Paper

PeePee:
It was hackisack in the green room. Hottentot God picked his balls and walked away. I said, "Don't let the door hit you on the ass as you leave, please," and went to see the court physician. He looked at my buboes and conceded a frown. "Is it mental, rental, rectal, or causal?" I asked. "There's no need," he said in response to my query, "for casual alarm." "Quit this casuistic causerie!" I shouted.

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Haw haw! Want me to sic Aunt Jemimah on His ass?

Venus:
With that, Dickie Doodah, you commence a cruising for a bruising. Bon voyage!

Studio Audience:
... Cough. -- -- Ahem.

PeePee:
Poinjawib!

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Strooooooooodle! Famous anus!

Studio Audience:
Haw haw haw haw wheeze haw wheeze haw wheeze wheeze wheeze!

10:42 a.m.

Episode 9:
Is There an Obscurantist in the House???

PeePee:
Educator a hanson, e i a e i o, nepnahilili ukeleler nesley ryhod fee I haish you I eat and go go weit with a lorry ossa oh darn o onusuauskinly allarific fucker feebah dei hot top olniturfie I atleast big we note am sir toon o osetopegani hi hansen nain silver hondra rod poe ŠleuosŠger G.W.U., OlP, TDf, BbO, etc. laatay e circuvlui eŠ ikiwahesta tacauotex luwuts tigri on boyet nid piffle name hetykuyss slaraŠrn scantorail whupper hi a o I heŠlz a leeng namnh litite pluribiume damnacenactors coago druid not atohiruauer m'cuyhm I you and hao epeduta qinshins werblewy octoisobuporol wregunhleeeots nolb monsor sittor jap.

Venus:
You areways were am an hokey riddler.

PeePee:
Said dokie rubber said dokie rubber, have to pick dee liver.

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Well I guess you could say "it's bossanova, dipshit, what did you expect, kaaba biscuit?" and leave it at that!

Studio Audience:
Haw haw haw haw wheeze haw wheeze haw wheeze wheeze wheeze!

09:58 a.m.

Episode 8:
The Value of a Vellum Human

PeePee:
It was two in the leaving, sun counting up the stretch; Clustered Holland passed the cheap seats near the B-17's Orange Julius stand, smoking his cheep brie and itching his toe ~ and thought on Wendy Flurtnippel, a hot little number he'd picked up in Rio. She, O noble goddess~! She was with Toadex Houndspotter, that son-of-a-bitch plumber's son from the count Du Lac, wearing a mechanick costume with a santa pencil, with stuffed cheddar shoes hung over the shoulder, popping small packets of catsup, mustard, and green relish under his bare heels. And she, this O beautiful wench! she wore a red neckbrace and monolithic earrings, and had a piercing blue noze which set crumbleflakes shooting whenever she hwizzchooched. O ~ Clustered thought ~ for those days ~ of tracts she sent on the squidmonkey featuring wff's and fine parsings of what once were confusions~ he thought, smiling on the inside. He licked his palms, only pausing to lunge at a passing nudibranch.

Venus:
You areways were a ridder dokie.

PeePee:
Said rubber donkie said rubber donkie, have to pick dee liver.

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Well I guess you could say "hit by a mick truck" and leave it at that!

Studio Audience:
Haw haw haw haw wheeze haw wheeze haw wheeze wheeze wheeze!

08:07 p.m.

Episode 6:
For a Parse Pace to Shelter ...

PeePee:
Sermonising the simony of Daqar Djili, orbainz the loutatability of this colohonie: how far to the faroff gaol of meeting the guilable elidelines set by Mr Wallace Heavy Stevens of a Supreme Frenc Fri? (Fart, fart, moose!) "It Must Be Abstract" and we, sirs, are stone certain inconcrete, we must be abject! "It Must Change" by gudd, rotty curtains carve most mange! "It Must Give Pleasure" well he (assurmising even an infinitesimal degree of aluminum) surefire causes no surfing.

Venus:
You areways rip on the robber folkie.

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Well I guess you could say "it's bitch-slappin good times" and leave it at that!

Studio Audience:
Haw haw haw haw wheeze haw wheeze haw wheeze wheeze wheeze!

11:03 p.m.

Episode 5:
Diamond Knuckles

PeePee:
Sigar Sickerstaffi is not, yea, cannot be a pegleg. Signor Sickerstaffi canem a prite the tot trittle. Whereas in days of yokensteel grit iron, beef and eshpieliastical boti kneese were eaten ... and in days of akterphage piddlingscoffery ... rickety spittle was lickt: so in the New Grand Bikamericle Ego Age of higher pontifesculation and magnippetry, every wife at her table will be given five chops of bifsteke and uh uh uh a little leftover ladle of honey soup. Hail hail the hexe all we care for! The hexe all we care for! Hey hey!

Venus:
But, Snootabega! what of this nasal reticence? Can you cull it off the ladle ever again? We'll see. We'll be selective in our schnaucering!

PeePee:
Blood! Blood in the stars, in the air we breathe, bicycle tyres pumped full of goat blood!

Vice President Al Gore's Severed Penis:
Did I do that?

Studio Audience:
Haw haw haw haw wheeze haw wheeze haw wheeze wheeze wheeze!