Listen Jack, here's the deal! number one. You damn liar, number one. Number one no number two stomps my ass. Corn-pop can a testament one to that. Number one, number two. Number two is that listen Jack. Number one I'm hanging on to that torch buddy boy. Number three, I'll challenge you to a pushup contest any day of the number two: listen fatass, I was never involved with my son's consultant involvement, and number three? Well, listen fat, I know all about racism.
Back in my home town, the group I used to run around with would always go to the soda fountain on the east side of town, because there weren't as many colored folks around in those days. I said "now why would we hike all the way across town when there's a perfectly fine soda fountain right here? It was called Othello's and you could get a lime phosphate there for 10 cents.
My friends said they were afraid of getting jumped on the walk home, which I thought was just so dang racist. They also had licorice whips. So one day I said "no, I'm not walking all that way, we're staying", cause it was August and it was like 94 or 95 degrees out there.
So we went to Othello's instead and got some malts and one fella got a grape nehi. So yeah, Danny got his head caved in with a tire iron later that day when a gang of black fellas caught him walking home, but for the rest of us it worked out just fine. And salt water taffy, they had that there, too. Anyways, my time is up.