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Today we salute you,
Mr. Backyard Bug Zapper Inventor.
Not content to harmlessly repel insects with lotion,
You discovered a way to fry them with electricity until their bodies explode.
Ah the sounds of summer:
The blood-curdling scream of a moth having 700 volts of electricity shooting through its body.
(music to my ears)
Every night a magical explosion of exoskeleton and insect goo that can only mean one thing:
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. June Bug Blaster,
Then sit back, and watch the fireworks.
Today we salute you Mr. Exotic Cowboy Boot Wearer.
If you can shoot it
Or hit it with your truck,
You can turn it into fine footwear
(I'm wearin' roadkill)
What a beautiful creature, you say
Imagine how much better it would look With my foot up its rear.
(I need a shoehorn)
For most people a trip to the zoo is a fun family outing
(how much for the llama)
For you, it's shoe shopping
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Exotic Cowboy Boot Wearer
If your feet are bare,
Every species is endangered.
Today we salute you, Mr. Baseball Designated Hitter.
Baseball is an intricate game of skill, strategy, and athleticism.
Except for you,
You just whomp the ball.
(whomp that ball now)
What's it like to be a professional baseball player who doesn't even need to own a glove?
(you're a staaaar)
Still, we'd rather see you up at the plate than some pitcher with a career batting average of .001.
(couldn't hit a beach ball)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Sir On-The-Bench-A-Lot,
Because fielding, throwing, and running..
Are overrated anyway.
If you had bought $1000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.00. With Enron, you would have $16.50 of the original $1,000.00. With Worldcom, you would have less than $5.00 left.
Now, had you bought $1,000.00 worth of Budweiser (the beer, not the stock) one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the 10 cent deposit, you would have $214.00. Based on the above, my current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle. This is my new retirement program. I call it my
Today we salute you, Mr. Beach Metal Detector Guy.
Some seek their fortune in the stock market,
Others in real estate,
But you look for loose change in the sand.
(hittin’ the jackpot)
Armed with a five foot Geiger counter and the world’s largest set of ear phones
You live your life with a simple code of honor:
“Finder’s keepers. Loser’s weepers.”
Sure people mock you,
But he who owns 92 cents, a gold plated earring, and a steal-toed boot gets the last laugh
(who’s laughing now)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Oh Sultan of the Sand.
We’d give you a medal,
But you’ve probably already found one.
Due to increasing product liability litigation, it has been suggested that American liquor manufacturers place these warning labels immediately on all varieties of alcohol:
Warning: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
Warning: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
Warning: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.
Warning: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
Warning: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing with you.
Today we salute you Mr. Baseball Stadium Glove Wearing Guy.
Armed with your lucky mitt,
You patiently wait for your chance to bring home one of the 700,000,000 baseballs produced last year.
(I've only got one ball)
Your mitt screams, "I'm a die-hard baseball fan."
It also screams, "I'm too delicate to catch a ball bare-handed."
The only thing steamier than a stadium hot dog?
The hand stuck inside that mitt since batting practice.
(not really as delicious)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Oh Señor Screwball.
Watching that ball bounce off your temple,
Will always be our favorite pastime.
Today we salute you Mr. Department Store Mannequin Dresser Upper
You live the ultimate fantasy,
Spending your days surrounded by naked women who never speak
(Living the dream)
You’ve handled more fake female parts than a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon
(They sure feel real).
Your hours are flexible,
So are the women you are undressing
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, O’ Mac Daddy of the mannequins,
When it comes to undressing fake women,
You’re the real man.
Today we salute you Mr. Artificial Tree Maker.
Nothing brings out the holiday spirit quite like a giant steel pole with nine feet of green pipe cleaners attached to it.
(looks so natural)
Your wonderful tree is available in all the glorious colors nature has to offer:
And blazing hot pink.
Thanks to you
We are no longer forced to venture out into the cold, damp steel pole forest
To chop down our own fake tree
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Purveyor of the Pine
Your trees may lean wildly to the left But your heart is always in the right place.
Today we salute you Mr. Centerfold Retoucher
Your incredible talent takes gorgeous women
And somehow makes them... gorgeouser
(a mucho gorgeoso)
Breasts - bigger.
Moles - smaller.
Mustaches - gone.
(you're a staaaar)
Thanks to you, hot wax is a thing of the past
And working out, is for suckers
Any artist can say their work is in a gallery
But how many can say their work is stuffed under mattresses around the world
(you're gonna go blind)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Da Vinci of the Derriere
Because thanks to you
We can enjoy real beauty the way we like it
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