It’s Disco Warfare, Baby

DUBYA PEA SH!T THE BED

Yep, Again, This Morning – Metaphorically – Dumped A Nasty Load Of Digital Déjà Voodoo Folks.

Now, I Have To Launder The Linens.  Change The Sheets.  Air The Joint Out.

“Which Is Why I’m Writing This Pretty Little Ditty, And Not The Bitter Sweet Poetic Diatribe I’d Drafted On My iPhone …”

… About Yesterday’s – Beige Chewsday’s – Epic Fail On Starchy Carb Loading.

 

THE SOUND YOU DON’T HEAR

Is Me …

“Slow Clapping … Slapping … Smacking …”

Cursing Telepathically.

… Double Birding It.

 

CALL OUT, BREAK OUT

A Dance Off … To Settle The Score … 

Dear Dubya Pea:

“I Love What You’ve Created.  Not So Much About How It Works.  Respectfully, If It Can’t Be Fixed …”

How ‘Bout We Dance It Out?  New School vs Old School.  Let The Reader’s Decide.

 

YOU & ME

Loser Pays Up … 

“I Win:  It’s Free Premium Or Business Subscription (Lifetime) For All Kuched Followers & Me.”

I Lose:  I Leave Dubya Pea Forever.

Jusaying.

 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

4 thoughts on “It’s Disco Warfare, Baby

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