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Mummified indiginous people are unusual and different; no false advertising here. Not just any old cave, no sir - this one contains gen-u-wine dessicated human beings. After you’ve had your fill of the dead, head back up Blacktop Road, turn left at Asphalt Path, go north on Rutted Dirt Trail, and enjoy Dogpatch USA, which “welcome’s you” to some family entertainment that may or not may involve royalty payments to Al Capp.
Based on the art, I’d say not.
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Fine, fine, fine. Just don't call everyone over to see it before you flush it this time. We'll take your word.
The Purvis had a safe beach, and it makes you wonder why they felt compelled to add that adjective; perhaps there had been a plague of sandworms the previous year, popping up and dragging people down to their lairs. That would explain why every beach had a rope tethered to a pole sunk in concrete, eh? |
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Oh, self-sack yourself, Kandy.
Congrats to Jim’s Market for landing a deal to distribute “nationally advertised brands” - must have taken lots of arm-twisting to get the Proctor and Gamble boys to let you sell Duz and Pledge.
Find your peace at the Way Out Shop, "your Ozark Headshop". Let's just let that sink in for a while. The rot set in fast, eh? Thirty months after Woodstock, and family entertainment brochures are reassuring red-eyed teens that they can get pipe screens and ZigZag papers while they're on vacation. The guy behind the counter? Long hair, parted in the middle; wire-rims, a beard, a Robert Crumb T-shirt, and a big bruise on the forehead from the other night when he was heading home, fried, okay, and he like took a piss against the alley wall of some stupid building.
How was he supposed to know it was the VFW? Fascists, man. Buncha old babykillers. Well, German babies, fer sure. |
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