Kikiktagruk Dope Opera: As the Spit Churns. Or how about "Genital Horse Pittle"? (Premarin=pregnant mare urine).

Dudes,

Over coffee and bong hits this morning, me bunnik told
me about Helen Williams lynching herself.

Is this the same Helen Williams; Tex (Aubrey)
Beasley's lifelong jizz dump, tormenter and punching
bag? He once confided in me that he kept the wench
knocked up for 16 years straight humping out 13 kids
so he never had to put up with a bitch on the rag.

Weird.

You boys remember Ralph Hess? He spooged all over baby
number 13. Lucky fucker ain't he?

That limp muke was convicted for sexually assaulting
her. Foul steaming Eskimo buckethead served a stretch
a bit over a hard nickel for something beyond Front
Street sense: akin to killing the dead, this ripe
maggot got arrested for raping the willing. Pregnant,
drunk as hell, yet very willing raunch bait.

"Adunsii put his coockoo in my unnuk!" -Annie Cyr
whispering serious stroke talk in my ear pert near a
hunnert fucking years ago.

Fond cases y'all can recall, sprout a boner, jerk a
load, then heave a sileage spiggot of stinging acrid
bile. Some turds of hurdles smell the same yet
stereotypes do come with guarantees as chimed by Carl
Perkins in 1959 "Some niggers never die, they just
smell that way."

Justice wasn't served for that particular crime
(scrawging a pre-moistened native dumper and preggo
biscuit might be criminal). Justice was served for his
ENTIRE life of acting like a complete dumbass and
senseless drunken retard.

4 out of 5 dentists surveyed don't give a shit about
some browntard cum guzzling gutter slut, they merely
enjoyed the opportunity to ship out one of Kotzebue's
stinkier buttfuckers.

Amen.

Reason I know all this? The jury foreman is wearing a
shitload of jewelry your author on drugs has smuggled
and stolen as mentioned heretofore.

*I know I'm swimming in gossip, shit and syphillis but
my enquiring village mind enjoys vicious backtalk.

Understand?

Y'all have the Alaskimo virus swimming in yer veins,
including yer dick. So when I ask ye "When you coming
back Red Rider?" I'm pushing that 'missing Alaska'
homesick button.

I can yank the village outa yer ass, but I can't yank
yer ass outa the village, or some shit. Wake up fucks,
ye best wash yer bottom and penis 'ral gud' cuz we all
know who dirtied yer fruit.

We do: dead souls and dead meat haunting and seasoning
a sub-arctic peninsula we all did our best to infect
and slaughter.

Suicide is the permanent solution to a temporary
problem. Shit dudes, we got a buttload of it 'round
these parts.

Senseless.

Nonsensical commentary too.

Karl.