#402, 734 - 2nd Ave. NW,
I shall eat dog food. The canned goodness of the ALPO shall become my flesh. Impervious to all that is womanz. My sweat shall be canine and I can walk around unharmed by theys' perfooms! Theys PERFOOMS can not affect my NOSTRIL. NO! Womenz cannot say bad thangs about my Campbell Soup Vegetarian Vegetable. I'll sleep under the coffee table. I stay in the woods in my hut. The tarpoline protects my shanty from the rain drops. I know all the sounds of nature and nature knows women are mmmmmmean to me! WOMEN ARE MMMMMEAN TUH ME! Allllll the women are MMMMMEAN TUH ME! YES THEY IS!
I feel your pain, Truman, I really do, but, you can't let yourself get beat. Rise Up! Bite that hand!
They all LUCY! And they keep tricking me with that football!
Well, we're all suckers for Lucy. Just be prepared. Don't mean you can't still have fun. Make a game of it!
No Ross. You are a BAD. I luv Lucys too much. If I only try hard enough Lucys shall let me one day kick the football. Lucys are always right. That is why Lucys have that "PSYCHIATRY 5 CENTS" booth. That is why Lucys call me a Block Head. Lucys are right. That is why I have to eat dog food and sleep under a tarpoline in the woods. Cause I ain't good enough. I ain't good enough.
Nonsense, Truman. You're a fine figure of a man and you don't need to take any guff from any mean ole Lucies.
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