Spent a decade on the leading edge of drug experimentation. Still boots to DOS. Still sending messages with his secret decoder ring. Still traumatized from the forest fire in „Bambi“. Stocksy-babes. (A truly vile British-slang insult.) Strong, like bull. Smart, like tractor. Beautiful, like KV-2. (A WWII era Russian tank.) Stuck on the down escalator of life. Stumped by anything child-proof. Subtle as a well-thrown brick. Suffers from Clue Deficit Disorder. Supports nativist theories that man is formed from clay. Surfing in Nebraska. Switch is on, but no one’s receiving. Takes her 1.5 hours to watch „60 Minutes“. Takes her an hour to cook minute rice. Takes his imagination out for a walk and ends up being dragged around the block by it. Talks to plants on their own level. Team player… No chance he’ll develop a personality on his own. Teflon brain — nothing sticks. — Lilly Tomlin The best part of him ran down his mother’s legs. — Jackie Gleason The butter slipped off his noodle. The cheese slid off his cracker. The definitive answer is: Her glass is half empty. The fan is working but the freon’s leaked out. The going got weird, and he turned pro. The heater’s plugged in but the rheostat’s shot. The perfect personality to write software manuals. The space between his ears powers vacuum pumps. The spit valve’s fallen off his trumpet again. The twinkle in his eyes is actually the sun shining between his ears.
