Blue Jeans, And Chromosomes, And Boobies…Oh My!
Oh, help us, Sweet Baby Jesus, Taylor Swift is dropping a new album. Now, she believes she is a Las Vegas Showgirl instead of a tortured poet like poor Sylvia Plath, who met a tragic end. Makes one wonder if the swift one knew about her demise? More cartoon music for the young girl masses that follow her blindly into the abyss of pop-less music. One day, they will awaken and grow up to be mothers and productive citizens, just maybe. I guess it’s better than standing atop someone’s Tesla and twerking their asses to the public.
The former first son and all-around good American criminal fellow says the first lady met her husband through Jeffrey Epstein. She calls it a lie and slander, demanding a public apology; otherwise, she will sue the Hunted one into oblivion for a billion bucks. The petulant former boy wonder artist and meth aficionado says F…that and is refusing to apologize. I don’t think Daddy-o will be able to save him this one last time. The Trumps have more money than Bubba Gump, and he has zero. Dr. Jill needs to drug test her boy. What a moronic man.
I am a cancer survivor, so the latest news from the Cowboys camp bothers me. After fifteen years, Smiley Jones, their Arkansas hillbilly owner, comes out with news that he beat cancer via experimental drugs. Why wait so long to tell the world? Let me guess, the Cowboys got their butt’s handed to them in pre-season, the team’s star players are threatening to move on for more money, they haven’t been within sniffing distance of a Super Bowl trophy in 30 years, and Jones is playing the “pity” card on his fans, who are deserting in mass. Poor Jerry, poor Cowboys, show me some love and keep buying those high-priced tickets, absurdly priced memorabilia, and $ 15.00 beers at his giant stadium that needs curtains to block the sun to keep the teams and the fans from melting. I know, I’ve been to many a game there, and my son, unfortunately, owns two seats that he can’t unload.
Thanks to a young actress, Sydney Sweeney, white girls are back! I’m talking really back. Sororities are going crazy, girls are buying American Eagle jeans again. All American blonde, brunette, and redheaded young women are once again strolling the streets, driving their cars to the mall, going to the beach, attending public functions, and making a spectacle of themselves in public—all thanks to a cute little gal with ginormous boobs and an All American girl spirit.
Putin and Zelensky, who’s going to win? Who you gonna call? Not Ghostbusters, but The President, and he should enlist Dana White to host a pay-per-view event at Madison Square Garden, pitting Putin against Zelensky in a UFC-style cage fight. Whoever wins will get the land, either Ukraine, Russia, or both. My money is on Zelensky. He’s younger, and there are reports that Pooty-Poot wears a Depends.
Notes From The Cactus Patch 