New Year. Same Heathen Dogs.
A Year in Review from Rev Dr. Tubs O’Boyledoyle III
CARTHAGE, MISS– Making my annual retreat home to humble Mississippi, as I tend to do when it falls upon my broad and stretch-ed back again to write this here review, my mind began to race to days of old. On summer lakes. Of simpler times. When a man could vote as he was meant to. Alone, among like gender and race.
When water got you the good kind of sick. And cars were made of horses. When women still hadn’t yet evolved like them vidya game creatures from the Orient. Not that they have all too much now, see. But a simpler time, still.
These days I roll around those hallowed halls of journalizing at Borfes and feel a curse. A mighty wind is changing. As 2014 hangs its dark curtain over the anal of time, I see my once grand land in the grips of a shade like some limey’s tale of wizard goblins.
How many police officers shot people this year? Probably gonna be more. I think it’s right that they become GIs or, at least, more militarized and physically aggressive with the citizens of this great nation. It’s only a matter of time before a famined drought like none ever witnessed and storm of locust rain upon the heathens in the desert plain, bringing an end to the vile debauchery plaguing our youth from hillen top to prairie null.
As the longest standing member of the Borfes family, I’ve seen many a day and journalization come and go, and I stand proud, erect, to say we have always stayed the course. Been a tried and true brand of business and knowledge. And religion. And family.
We began the Women’s Issues editorial in 1984 because we knew then as we know now, women are an issue. Things do not change. Except often for the worse. And as not only our Women’s Issues expert, but a bevy of other trades and callings, I tell you honestly children of Borfes: things are looking grisly adams.
Protests and movies stars and chemical-y foods and ladies that’s men. The list goes on (find my List of Heathen Scum of the Year next week). 2014 has been a letdown at best.
Where’s the fear of our Heavenly Father, for he is a spiteful one? Better be putting on its Sunday leathers, because Reverend Doctor Tubs is bringing out the Holy Bible, and his studded belt. And he’s puttin’ his stethoscope in the lockbox. Year of no-goods and irreligiouses breathin’ sexfumes from one another’s body parts is what it’s been. And I’ve had enough.
Pray to Jesus Christ of Nazareth that 2015 is not a torrent of thunderous hellfire. Amen Lord Child, Lamb and Holy Otter.
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