When the Cheeto Dust Falls (WIP)

When the Cheeto dust falls, fleecing everything in sticky orange, that’s when we’ll feel the punchline to this joke full force and forever double over

Harrrr harrrr hurrrrrr

Throw the baby out with his father… and we’ll stay here spinning high up in the air… and we’ll ALWAYS land on the same sides
with the leeches, roaches and flies

Putting his mechanisms in place

He’s a spray on man with a spray on tan
Hop in his van, he’ll do what he can
and get away with

And his praises
you shall sing
like a squeal
like a shriek
like a wail at a funeral through a cartoon beak

He’s the secret weapon, the scummed mummer
Burying the bar so far under

Using the word nigger
for comedic effect
never loses impact
the older and dumber he gets

He could feed a village
with the contents of his trash
But it takes a REAL whore
to pop his chivalrous gash

Tutored in PTSD
Impact metatron
A shit to the dome
Plausible denial pawn
for collateral damage
in a lighthearted tone

He’s a beefer with a trophy queefer
swallowing ozone
flocked with booger
Choking on a stone
splintered as a hoary old bone

He’s not trained to spot beauty
that’s not pornographic
He’s fanatically trained to take
and can only cum if he’s bombing your carpet…
or if it’s a gunpoint rape

A Catholic School dereliction of duty
A down and dirty solution
his social contribution
to your protest, you see

Jokes legislated into mandate on the slutty slope at clown school. Those were the days: pratfalling into an executive position

Isn’t that cool?

His industries conceived
wigs to pull your hair out
Fingernails that cause your fingertips to bleed
Lotions and powders producimg polyps
A corrosive smoke to rot your grout
Light bulbs that, as soon as they’re screwed in, burn out
Warranting an endless need
All for you, bitchums,

A talentless pool of the usual perverts
It’s a financial formula that always works

He knows how the money flows
He’s got you bouncing
And which way your hunger grows
Wooden pigs on a carousel
On the low buy, high sell thing
While he does what he does so well
jive talking, his kiss and tell thing
He didn’t like the smell of your thing
ma belle, ma belle
So he flushed it with cash
and he’ll see you in hell

he’s stranger than a stranger
what’s he done here, today? Errrr…
a fucker, a soft knuckler
Ma’am, it’s free TV
The best TV, sir
you’ll pay, babes…
you’ll pay;
you’ll see

Retroenemation 1, graphite on paper, 1993 copyright GPD

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