Posted by NL on December 16, 2008 at 13:43:26:
Shithead-- a story
By God, when I am blue I conjure up YOU, Joe Don Baker, as Billy Jack swinging that big old bad old mean old 4 x 4 about your head as the secktual perverts and evil ones run for cover, skeerit and exposed, naked in their trembling little evil puffy pervert bodies and then the whole damn Bijou stands up and CLAPS, stands up and CRAPS! That's the way to reduce the quotient of evil in this here world! Git you a big old mean old bad old stick uh wood and swirl it about your head and hit on the criminals and perverts till the blood runs red. And then in a later TEEVEE incarnation, big and puffed up with manly booze, letting the cheap old bourbon Cream uh Kentuck run down yer chin, showing up again as SHITHEAD-- Billy Jack is SHITHEAD, a big city DA hell on perverts and sex shops and secktual sins of all sorts in the city of god, no place for evil-doers to dwell-- and all you needed then was to hurl a two by four at their collective foreheads to make em cringe. Boy, I do admire that. I wish I was good like you and big like you and strong like you! But no! I am a just a regular fat slob. I need somebody to do my dirty work for me. Somebody like you. And I hear you are dead. And that's a shame. Where is SHITHEAD, that mean old DA when we need him, dragging the perverts and enemies of America outta their hidey-holes and stringing 'em up down by the old shitty hall and hitting them often and hard with your big old mean old stick uh wood before jammin' it UP their asses with extreme mother-fuckin prejudice? Oh lord, I cry out when I see all those tight butts in those short skirts and cry out because I know what the impure perverts think of all that twat. And my flag! My poor flag, so abused and battered! And then I think,why,if I down enough of that nasty old cream uh kentuck sour bourbon brew, maybe I could be you? Maybe I could be you, Billy Jack, Joe Don Baker? I mean, you did OK with a beergut, didn't you? Featuring Joe Don Baker as SHITHEAD! A big city attorney who's not afraid to say FUCK your rights! Rights? Rights? I'll whomp you and stomp you till your head turns blue and FUCK your rights cause I am Joe Don Baker as SHITHEAD, a big city attorney with a fat face and a hard-on for the narrow way, fightin' all the pervs and bad guys with a big stick uh wood long and narrow as a railroad rail and twice as tough and I swirl it about my head and whomp you and stomp you till you are dead, in the dirt, so hardy is my hatred of evil and my love of the good. Don't you dare look crosswise at them tight little twats and them budgy bras! And don't you dare profane my flag! Don't talk to me about rights! FUCK rights! And of all people who have no rights you god-damned gall blasted snuff necro crowd have the least of all. When I am Joe Don Baker they stand up and clap, they stand up and crap, they stand up and pray, hey, hey, hey. Where is Joe Don Baker when you need him?
The other day I found another body stuffed in my freezer. She was nekkid and dead and frozen stiff. This one was riddled with bullets but sometimes they are ripped up with shrapnel. Where they come from I do not know. Now, if I was Billy Jack and Joe Don Baker as SHITHEAD the big city attorney who don't fuck around I might be able to do something about all the body parts I keep finding in my home, but alas, what can I do? Eh? Eh? I'm sure glad I don't live in the big city. I'm sure glad I've got me a nice and secluded place out in the woods. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to dispose of all this shit. But I'm afraid Joe Don Baker will show up and get the wrong idea. Don't you whomp on me! I'm on YOUR side! Here, let's share some of this fine old sour old cheap old shitty cream uh kentuck bourbon whisky and tell me about the time you rounded up the perverts and flag molesters and nay-sayers and commie simps and beat 'em to a pulp with a 9 x 12, and how they all stood up and clapped, stood up and CRAPPED! Those were the days, eh? You weren't dead then. And we weren't all living in such an unusual morass. Oh the morals are so low these days. Everywhere I look I see tight juicy twats packed up into short skirts and tight pants and bellybuttons going every which way and I think, the morals! The morals! And at the very time our beloved land needs a steady diet of FIBER! I hear tell of perverts peeking at royal candian mounties and beating their meat. I hear tell of folks watching the Lemon sisters on Laurence Welk and creaming their jeans. I hear tell of folks casting doubt on sacred things! SACRED THINGS! I would hit my head with a steel claw hammer if I ever had such thoughts, but I am clean. I am ClEAN. I really don't know where all those corpses come from, the body parts. I have examined them and they look foreign to me. And the wounds are so awful they look like maybe grenades or bombs or .50 calibers have been at work. Oh god Joe Don Baker Billy Jack SHITHEAD the big city attorney, come and fight our enemies! Come and kill the enemies of America! Sort out the pervs and commies and unchristian mongrel slimes! Rights? Rights? Don't give SHITHEAD no shit about rights! You don't got no stinking rights! All you got is Billy Jack swinging a 30 lb sledge around his head in a wide and indiscriminate arc, smashing the pervs, the meanies, the bad guys, the evil-doers like they was butterflies in a threshing mill. WHOMP! Stomp! Gimme some more of that same sour brew like they drink in the land of moo, where alley oop dwells, with Joe Don Baker, as SHITHEAD!