Don't Drive Drunk. Ever. Don't Shag Anyone

And I'll Have You Know That If You Hurt My Son Again, If He So Much As Sighs Sadly Over His Coffee, I Will Hire A Man, A Russian, Probably, To Hunt You Down And Rip All That Shiny Black Hair From Your Head, Then Break Your Skinny Arms And Legs, And Set You On Fire, And Then Put You Out With A Hammer. And Should There Be Children From Your Beastly Rutting, I Shall Have The Russian Man Cut Them To Tiny Pieces And Feed Them To Madame Jacob's Dog. Because, Although He May Be Only A Worthless, Simpleminded, Libertine Artist, Lucien Is My Favorite, And I Will Not Have Him Hurt. Do You Understand?

[in Reference To Turkey Bowling] He [tommy] Squinted And Picked His Target, Then Took His Steps And Sent The Bird Sliding Down The Aisle. A Collective Gasp Rose From The Crew As The Fourteen-pound, Self-basting, Fresh-frozen Projectile Of Wholesome Savory Goodness Plowed Into The Soap Bottles Like A Freight Train Into A Chorus Line Of Drunken Grandmothers.

I've Seen More Intelligence In The Crotch Lice Of Harem Whores.

And He Was Like "the Sedative In The Blood, Blah, Blah, Four Hours, Blah, Blah, Nerdspeak, Geektalk -" -abby

It's Christmas! Ah, Christmas, The Time When All Good People Go About Not Decapitating Each Other.