Prince Kurbsky

Bastille Day is a weeklong celebration at Chow Acre. We forgo bathing, shaving and toenail grooming in preparation for liberte, egalite and fraternite. After staging a mock surrender to Fritz and Trudi Kipplinger, my Charm and I cap off our Bourbon bender by committing random acts of Gallic insolence. We’re the pungent couple who make mid July nights at Applebee’s Neighborhood Grill & Bar a living hell.
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Allen Shirley’s love letter to Oligopoly Insurance is based entirely on “objective study”. To those who aren’t familiar with “objective study”, it’s interchangeable with “they said” and “somebody told me”. I can’t wait to thumb through Shirley’s long awaited memoir. Published by Granny Shaffer Press, autographed copies of “A Little Birdie Told Me” will soon be available…next to the toothpick dispenser.
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I must concur with Duane Graham’s observation concerning local Beck wannabe Mark Kinsley and the goon from Missouri SOS. Up much earlier than usual, I accidentally caught their heavy petting on my Dollar Store radio. Although I’m usually tolerant about steamy man-on-man interview action (less so about man-on-beast), I was tempted to call the station and denounce the public violation of my post-Lutheran family values. Assuming the hovel was blessed with two legged children, the prurient propaganda seeping through my Chinese import could have wreaked havoc on our lambs’ chances for developing sexually acceptable kindergarten mat time behavior.
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Taking a page from the ‘birthers’, I’m scouring the internet looking for proof Sen. Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III was the boy playing the banjo in “Deliverance”.
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Mr. Yellowman’s Word ‘O the Day: Melonite n. Small particles of breast perspiration found in discarded AA coffee cups

Juan Don.