Joltin' Joe Schlabotnik

Some days the sails don't stir and the equator takes its toll but you stay busy on deck and hope you don't look like a steak to a scurvy dog hauling a yard arm and you could just kill for sip of sweet gypsy bourbon and that fiery draft of the first good yank during a golden sunset after trials brutally endured but perfectly executed which favors the compassionate, just like Allah who (CENSORED) so the world shrinks and angry waters will be an indefatigable foe by the time the Tricentennial rolls around which I'm surprised they're not hyping yet, seeing as it's only seventy years away which actually frightens me for some reason, like pitchforks have a real and useful function but the word conjures an entirely different image
in the long hot days of late summer but LA has quietly enjoyed a bowl of JELL-O existence and may the forecast call for more of the same special novelty like the long lost semi-toxic super elastic bubble plastic which I'm sure would stick to your soul!