Jack Peabs Nimble, Jack Peabs Quick.
Sometimes, when you're a well-endowed, whorefucking drug addict like Peabs, you have to relive your past. The last five days or so, yours effing truly decided to do just that. And by that, I really mean that I decided it was a good idea to do some whippets and drink some Dimetapp® elixir in order to get my mind off of tomorrow's election. Mmmmmm, whippets. Some say an even better high than freebasing spackle and jerking off Dom Deluise. Ooh-jah!
It seems like just yesterday that Peabs declared myself as a candidate for the Presidency. And now it's up to you, the American jizzmopping buttfucking public, to elect my pretty self and the great Dr. Bill Cosby into office. I needn't go on about how much I am going to do for the country - that much is obvs. Nor does Peabs need to mention the flying camel I highjacked on Saturday and rode into the sunset with a young boy named Cold Lenny, who injected phosphorus into my Berry-Berry Kix®, as Coz read passages from King Hippo's Bible. Nope. Not one bit. Schmobvs.
Understandably, the Obvs in '04™ Campaign is quite busy today, trying hard to muster up as many supporters as possible for Super Tuesday. With that, remember to go out tomorrow and vote for Peabs. It's your motherfucking obligation, you effing handjobs.
More tomorrow from the campaign headquarters. Until then realize that, much like Jesus Christ, Peabs died for your sins. And by "died for your sins," I really mean I snorted a bunch of coke last night because Peabs felt slightly guilty about the raging cases of crabs I gave you when myself and Coz double penetrated and emptied our jazzum into your ripe womanhood. You know, kind of like when JC and Moses double-teamed Mary Magdalene after having a little too much turkey at The Last Supper. Gobble!
I want to beat off in your oatmeal.
Obvs in '04™.