Hey, try to catch me this Thursday. I'll be performing at Luke's Liquor Barn and Day Care Center. Are your kids rowdy? Out of control? Luke is here to help. A double-shot of his special blend and your offspring will be as calm as a sloth on Xanax infusion in no time. Almost brain dead, in fact. Kind of reminds me of my senior prom. I was dating Dora at the time. She was a poodle pruner from Pasadena and part time pig paddler. Bad pig! Bad pig!
And now for some news:
Well, President Calderone of Mexico spoke to Congress and said he was absolutely against the new Arizona immigration law. Of course, he got a standing ovation from those elected officials who, like himself, haven't read the bill and don't want to. Why try to understand a dangerous situation when we can more easily sell out to any third rate leader with a bone to pick. Agree with the bill or not but it's our business to deal with. Not the leader of a country with more human rights violations than a jihadist secretarial pool. Here's an idea. Let's adopt Mexico's immigration policy. Wouldn't that be a hoot? But, El Presidente has his own reasons for playing the one-way border control card. "Be it ever so humble, there's nothing quite like your house".
And like Mexico's El Presidente, Paul McCartney took a shot at President Bush while accepting an award which leads me to ask, why can't folks just accept an honor anymore. Just say, "thank you" and leave? Of course, a lot of people smash George. He's an easy target. But, I have a particular problem with McCartney. One thing I would never do is visit someone's country (their home) and slam their leaders or their policies while standing on their soil. I'm just an old, west Texas country boy with hardly any class at all. But even I have more class than to do that. Where's yours, Sir Paul?
Oil is still gushing into the gulf. BP says it's due to a faulty cementing job during construction. Things were so much better when the mafia controlled that. "You get a leak, I breaka you face."
I went for my weekly appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr. Demonic. It was "Panty Hose Thursday". What a strange man. But, it's better than, "Bring a Sheep To Work Tuesday". I don't care what he says, I'm not cleanin' that up.
The doctor said that therapy for me is like playing a kazoo in a philharmonic orchestra. Who cares? So, I dressed him in high heels and a girl scout uniform while he was asleep. Then, I yelled, "Bomb"! Naturally, he ran screaming into the street. He gets out of jail on Saturday.