Words of Whiz Dumb 2018
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-- 'ember it's the price-- not the quality - that counts. That's Muckenmire's Discount Beer: the vin ordinaire of East Hogwash. You're listening to WDUH radio, one-oh-nine point four and a half on your FM dial. We take you now to the Rentacenter Civic Center in beautiful downtown East Hogwash where University President Porterhouse Mistake III is wrapping up his preliminary remarks. We join the 2018 Downstate University at Hogwash Commencement Ceremony already in progress.
"-ug-alcohol-smoke-trans fat-peanut butter-salt-sugar-and gluten-free zone.
"Also, we'd like to take this time to clarify the loading and unloading areas for ride-sharing services. Parking Lot 'G'-- as in 'gnome' -- is for Uber customers only. Parking Lot 'P'- as in 'pneumonia'-- is for those who favor Lyft. Those of you who prefer waiting for one of the fine buses from the East Hogwash Transit Authority may do so in Parking Lot 'K' as in 'knee.'
"Finally, we're sorry to inform our graduates and our esteemed guests that our originally scheduled commencement speaker will be unable to appear today. Recording artist and cultural icon Conya South will instead honor his prior commitment to piss people off.
"Not to worry, we have an alternative speaker who was willing to step in at the last minute. He's back in his old stomping grounds here in the Rentacenter, as each year he is instrumental in putting together The
East Hogwash Gun Show. He's a familiar face on local cable access programs and a familiar voice on podcasts from alt-right websites. Recently he has been installed as the President and CEO of the Firearms and Rifle Trust or FART. So let's bring out our speaker, Gunnar B. Buggin, the One and Only Munitions Man!"ť
[Faint applause, booing, razzberries.]
"Thank you! It's great to be here on what I suppose is a happy occasion, but --
Friends, you've either been listenin' to fake news or you're not aware of the caliber of the precious rights they wanna take away.
Well, ya got Trouble, my friends, right here,
I say we got Trouble right here in East Hogwash.
Now I'm not sayin' somethinâ's wrong with schoolin.'
nothin's wrong with teaching youngsters how to count
from first-to-second, as in Second Amendment.
How to read, too, long as they know that magazines
aren't just for readin.'
Why sure, I'm a coll grad myself
and mighty proud to say it takes brains
and shrewdly negotiated loans to pass through
these Halls o' Ivy.
Now, let me tell you what I mean: you take one-two-three-four-
(in my case) five-six years in college, years
that aren't spent in the noble pursuit
of huntin' down dangerous transgressors
and protectin' sacred rights and collectin'
the finest firearms produced in these here United States.
Instead you;re fritterin--
I say fritterin' hours away
with your noses stuck in books
or up against a computer screen,
printin' up protest signs,
congestin' up the streets. Ya got Trouble,
Ya got Trouble, folks, right here in East Hogwash, With a capital 'T'
which rhymes with 'P'
which stands for 'pool'ť
and rhymes with 'school.'
Now parents do you know
what goes on in them co-ed dorms
all stinkin' with strange smoky smells
covered up with IN-cense?
And what about those lecture halls
with your subversive professors convincin' em
to pooh-pooh our way of life
and beat their swords into timeshares?
I say we got Trouble,
right here in East Hogwash,
With a capital 'T", yadda-yadda-yadda.
Mothers, when your sons and daughters
come home for Thanksgiving Break,
are they gonna be all sarcastic,
are they gonna tune into FOX News
just to point and laugh?
Next thing you know they'll be
signin' petitions, drivin' electric cars,
huggin' trees!
Citizens of East Hogwash, Hear me out!
Don't let them shun the gun!
Why should the military have all the fun?
Build your own home arsenal today! Remember:
a chicken in every pot,
a pistol on every belt,
and a missile launcher in every back yard.
Hit it boys! --
[drum intro, two blasts of a whistle, brass band plays. Sound of marching feet, vocals]
Seventy-six armed drones
O'er the Big Display
Where a hundred and ten militia men stood their ground.
They were backing up roads and roads
of semi-auto, self-loads
for volunteer patrols all tightly wound!
Seventy-six armed drones
soared up to the sky
with a hundred and ten militia men down below.
There were a thousand AR-15s
Aimin' to blow stuff to smithereens.
There were Magnums of every type you'd know.
There were more good guys with handguns than real platoons,
concealin' em, concealin'em, all in every room.
Double barrels and bump stocks and big bazookas.
Each bazooka with a big, fat, boom!
There were Winchesters and Uzis and-
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