From: James Floyd (jfloyd@airnet.net) Date: Sat, 16 Oct 1999 09:17:20 -0400 (EDT) Subject: Think Poop It's about hearts and minds. Please Gertrude, start shielding yoself! You and your body know what to do when some greaser makes an unwanted pass. You know that uncomfortable feeling that permeates both mind and body when an undesirable 'comes on to you.' You cross yo legs - yo hands and arms fold, automatically, over your bosom and yo head turns away avoiding any possibility of lip contact. They call this "body language." It's an universal language, it's a way of saying a resounding, no! Yet, sweet Gertrude, when the evil ones come for your heart and mind, well, you seem to have lost any and all of your natural defenses. There are no limbs with which to guard the mind. The subtle serpents of ideological conditioning have, for too long, had 'their way' with you and will continue to rape your poor mind until 'You' put an end to it! The first thing I want you to do, Gert, is cut off that damnable television. The very next time you are sitting there poking yo mouth with gobblie-goodies and watching their crap, I want you to equate that position with being up by the water tank, in the woods, sitting in the back-seat of a car with no panties on, trying to fight-off the ugliest son of a bitch you ever dated. TV is the most repugnant suitor you'll ever encounter, and your couch, today, is what the back-seat of a fifty-six Chevy was a generation ago. Be like me, my child. Why? Simply because their silly persuasions don't work on Ole Jim. For instance, let's look at the Taco Bell commercial, you know, that one with that Mexican-talking, hair-less, ugly, little, bowlegged, Chihuahua dog. This is just one example but a very good one. Somehow, only the Almighty knows how, this vile, nasty-rat-looking animal is suppose to make, otherwise sensible, people rush right out to their nearest squat- and-gobble (fast-food) store, and from the hands of pimple-faced, butt-scratching, under-paid, teen-agers, these TV, pre-programmed, masses are to fall into a line with other zomby-like patrons and purchase over-priced, tasteless tortoise shells. Well Gertrude, it don't work for me. No, No! When I see this tiny- rodent-of-a-dog I can only think of poop on the carpet, of stinking chicken heads/feet/guts and other unmentionables which this animal eats daily. Girl, oh dear girl, it makes me want to throw-up! So, as the guardian of the virginity of yo mind, sweet innocent Gert, I ask you, today, when you watch the endless talking-head pundits and mind-raping politicians, please, please, think poop! I remain yours in mischief and the world's only historical revisionist with a personality and sense of humor. Jim Floyd 185 Co. Rd. 254 Cullman, Al. 35057.
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