There sits the Queen, enjoying a monk’s meal at a pope’s price. What a twat-head.
Did you ever eat at a restaurant where they place “special” silverware at the top of your plate? Neither have I.
Me neither. I typically get the plastic utensils, sealed in a factory fresh bag. So I only risk the Chinese germs.
C’mon Earl everybody knows that per Emily Post you aren’t supposed to eat that fancy imported Russian caviar with a spork.
I wouldn’t go anywhere near caviar. no.
Did you ever eat in a restaurant with real art on the walls? Me neither.
Cowboys. Indians. Bullfighting. The Virgin Mary. Aztec warriors. Moose heads. Cow heads. Deer heads. Fish mounts. Paintings of fields of bluebonnets and oak trees with a dirt road leading to an old rundown farm house. We got shitloads of art, absolutely.
You (or one) could string a bass fiddle with that neck. What’s with the left eye? [Her’s, I mean.]
“That barely buys dinner”, or as I see it 5 minutes of pressure washing the sidewalks with bleach every night.
There not within 1,000 miles of being in touch. Arrogant posers presiding over a bunch of effete queers and screaming schizophrenic bums.
Indeed. And 4 stars for using effete.
$2,000? That’s barely enough for a facelift in a sh’thole country.
“LET THEM EAT CAKE!”, screamed Queen Nancy the Last.
If I were wealthy, I’d eat food that looks exactly like that…
Be a real shame too wouldn’t it? When you could have barbeque.
What a horrifying mug. Did the Earl give her 6th facial nerve damage? Eye and sag. Or is that hers?
All her. We only adjusted for depth of wrinkles (enhanced), nothing more. Honest.
Much Love to Curmudgeon at Political Clown Parade. I Am Honored, Madam.
A Fellow Texan Who Loves German Shepherds, Like Me
A Tremendous Honor from the Mothership
My Media Credentials
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