I’m here to tell each and every one of ya there ain’t nothing wrong with hollerin at folks once in a while. Hollerin’s downright healthy and good for what ails ya. All those politically correct folks that say polite, warm and fuzzy shit all the time end up constipated and prone to major gas problems I’m here to tell ya. I read about it the other day in the Star. You’ve heard them shrinks and new age folks and the baloney they spew. “We need to settle down, visualize a garden full of flowers and manage our feelings to see if we can’t maturely reach a resolution to our conflict.” Well I’d flip them shrinks the bird and tell them to “visualize this!” A person that hollers at folks gets all that pent up frustration out and besides, if they do have gas, nobody’ll know the difference on account they’ll be a hollerin so loud that’s all the people that are getting hollered at will hear. Of course there’ll be the vapor, but that can always be explained away on the farm, you know, the cows, the hogs, the chickens etc. etc..
Here’s an example where a little hollerin is the proper thing to do and by George I did it. My second cousin Gerald borrowed my dozer cause he said he had a pile of manure that was five feet deep out back of his barn that needed relocatin. Well, when he returned my prized 1967 Cat two days later there was cow shit all over it not to mention potato chips, catsup and mustard and I could swear by the smell on the seat Gerald had taken a whiz while continually operating the controls of my prized heavy piece of machinery. You just don’t do things like that! It’s like taking a swig from a guy’s whiskey bottle and not being polite enough to wipe your slobber off. Damn disgusting is what it is! So I hollered at Gerald!
“Gerald,” I said, “You’re an ignoramus for returning my prized dozer in the condition it’s in! What’s the matter with you? You got shit for brains or what? It’ll be a cold day in hell before I loan you a piece of my heavy equipment again. Now get your dumb ass a movin and I don’t give a flying flip what you think. I refuse to tolerate ignoramus relatives!” That’s what I said to him and I meant every damn word of it. And here’s my point. After I unloaded on him I felt downright relieved and relaxed as if I’d taken a laxative or some such thing. Them women’s libber’s got nothing on me because ole Merle felt Liberated.” And that’s what I’m getting at. There’s a reason I’m healthy and maladjusted. I never drink hard liquor on Sunday’s and I holler a lot at the ignoramuses that need to be hollered at. You’re performing a community service if you ask me. So who ya gonna believe? Ole maladjusted Merle or some Socialist, panty waist shrink? I thought so. Well, gotta go now and holler at my brother Clifford on account he’s a standard issue dumb ass plain and simple. See ya.
Here’s an example where a little hollerin is the proper thing to do and by George I did it. My second cousin Gerald borrowed my dozer cause he said he had a pile of manure that was five feet deep out back of his barn that needed relocatin. Well, when he returned my prized 1967 Cat two days later there was cow shit all over it not to mention potato chips, catsup and mustard and I could swear by the smell on the seat Gerald had taken a whiz while continually operating the controls of my prized heavy piece of machinery. You just don’t do things like that! It’s like taking a swig from a guy’s whiskey bottle and not being polite enough to wipe your slobber off. Damn disgusting is what it is! So I hollered at Gerald!
“Gerald,” I said, “You’re an ignoramus for returning my prized dozer in the condition it’s in! What’s the matter with you? You got shit for brains or what? It’ll be a cold day in hell before I loan you a piece of my heavy equipment again. Now get your dumb ass a movin and I don’t give a flying flip what you think. I refuse to tolerate ignoramus relatives!” That’s what I said to him and I meant every damn word of it. And here’s my point. After I unloaded on him I felt downright relieved and relaxed as if I’d taken a laxative or some such thing. Them women’s libber’s got nothing on me because ole Merle felt Liberated.” And that’s what I’m getting at. There’s a reason I’m healthy and maladjusted. I never drink hard liquor on Sunday’s and I holler a lot at the ignoramuses that need to be hollered at. You’re performing a community service if you ask me. So who ya gonna believe? Ole maladjusted Merle or some Socialist, panty waist shrink? I thought so. Well, gotta go now and holler at my brother Clifford on account he’s a standard issue dumb ass plain and simple. See ya.
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