Now, let me get to the bottom of
things:
I like my Mexican strictly American,
with tons and TONS of Wisconsin queso.
If this wasn't the way God wanted it,
He never would've invented utters.
Also, I like my Lithuanians speaking
in tongues—red ones—
and my guidos must be orange.
If my governor is not an imbecile,
I will demand to know why,
and will initiate a total recall.
My mustache must be gently ruffled
thrice bi-hourly, by a somewhat stunning
Russian ruffian.
Lastly, I want my rocks on the rocks.
If at first you don't succeed with
these basic instructions,
you will be taken down a peg or two,
all proper-like and with the utmost tomfoolery.

10/16/2011

Author's Note: my backstage rider

Posted on 10/16/2011
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