After about 50,000 thumbs up, between his

After about 50,000 thumbs up, between his lawn mower career and his lego hair on television, he will friend his dance this week on the cable network

and deliver the kind of performance that anyone would give after serving twenty years in congress. Years of corruption will be exposed in a sordid mambo with a twenty-three year

old block of bleu cheese. What it lacked in creativity, it made up for in bold flavor and aromatic allure unheard of these days. So,

I figured out that it was a blend of milk from a wild boar, and the semen of an elderly frenchman who lived most of his life in

the bayou. I told the bartender I enjoyed this drink, and asked it's name. "Why, that is a Ragin' Cajun!", he exclaimed. "Between you and me, folks 'round here don't like your

style." I was confused. What was more stylish than skinny jeans and a flannel? These folks just wouldn't know style if it punched them in the throat. But I said nothing, and

punched them in the throats. "Nobody giggles at my diggles," I said, a phrase I had come up with earlier that week in the bathroom mirror. Self-confidence maintained for now, I

niggled the diggles for Mr. Biggles. My self-confidence was clearly premised on delusion. I put the teddy bear under my shirt as an ersatz bullet-proof vest and

reassembling myself by the power of love and rainbows. The gangs scrambed to get away as the sweet vibes of my sitar caused cosmic shock waves entombing them in eternal kumbayas.