So Sayeth The Peabs


Tuesday, November 09, 2004

All I Want For Christmas Is To Shove My Cock Down Your Thrizz.

Dr. Bill Cosby, being of sound mind and a giant Negro dick, came home to our NYC-based loft dressed as Santa Claus last evening, hopped up on yaba and microdots. Needless to say, it put Peabs in a jolly mood; so Peabs did what I always do when I get in the Christmas spirit. Bovs. Peabs phoned longtime Obvs in '04™ Campaign supporter and reknown designer Oscar De La Renta and ordered custom assless chaps made from reindeer and the foreskin of Pablo, the forgotten Honduran 4th wise man. Oscar also gave Peabs a great idea as to how to be a hit at the upcoming holiday parties; being President-elect, I'll have to do my best to keep the attention of my fellow partygoers. So my designer friend suggested I dress up my already infamous D™ with a derby hat (that he would design, snatch) and some glasses (Prada, duh) and refer to myself as Mr. Potato Cock. Frankly, I find this idea to be fucking brilliant. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" quite like dressing up your cock like a children's toy. She mars. Coincidentally, Cosby plans to dress his manhood up as Maya Angelou. I know why the caged bird bovsed on my tees - it was fucking caged! Obvs.
Speaking of holiday parties and Maya Angelou, it should come as no surprise that the famed author and yours effing truly have quite a past. Peabs has yet another confession: at a Kwanzaa party at Mel Tormé's abode in 2001, I mistakened Maya for actress Della Reese, and she did not take too kindly to it.

Luckily, on my arm that evening was Maria Pastora, a Mexican crackwhore who was carrying a satchel full of San Pedro Cactus. What few know is that Angelou loves her peyote. What everyone knows is that Peabs does, too. All it took was a few hits of this shit and suddenly the entire cast of "Night Court" was there, dressed like the Village People and buttfucking each other to the soulful crooning of our host, Mel. You haven't experienced anything until you've seen Richard Moll do a one-"man" performance of the "Rocky Horror Picture Show", while getting dirty sanchez'd by Harry Anderson. It'll make you wanna go down on a three-year old. Schmobvs.

I know what you're thinking. I know it's six weeks until Christmas. But Peabs does not discriminate when it comes to the holidays. Fuck, Hannukah started, like, four days ago! So technically I am late. Thankfully, I have Dr. Bill Cosby here to remind me of all that which is going on in the world. Shmears, if it weren't for him (and the fact that I'm a turkey), Peabs would've had no idea that Thanksgiving is 13 days away. Or that I hid some fucking blow up my ass last night so that I'd have it for lunch today. Gobble!

Face it. You'd pay millions to artificially inseminate yourself with my jazz. But let's be honest - even the spawn of Peabs is merely a microcosmal clusterfuck of the genius that is I. Ooh-jah, boo-jah.


At 11:51 AM, Blogger Pencopal said...

Mr. Potato Cock is hot, but next year consider going as Cock It (named after the children's toy Bop It). Dress in all black, cut a hole out in the front so you can rock out with your cock out, paint the D turqoise and yellow, and invite people to Pull It, Twist It, and Bop It. Have the Cos carry a bucket around to catch all that Peabs jizz, so Pencopal can buy it for $3 and 50 fucking cents.

At 1:08 PM, Blogger Dashiell said...

Mr. President,

Will you be at Dr. Coz's Soaring Eagle appearance in Mt. Pleasant this evening? I hear those Indian casino pit bosses love the hott jazz.

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