The Stupid! ...It Burns! (and in the blazing colours of autumn)

What the hell is going on here?

-Chester the Cheeta goes to the prom?

-It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown...and he brought a date?

-Willy Wonka let the Oompa Loompas have a night off from the chocolate factory, so that they'd quit humping each other?

Oh, I know...these guys couldn't afford a fake spray-on tan, so they smeared themselves with the grease from the top of an opened can of Wolf Brand Chili. Or maybe, a mad scientist in a secret laboratory brought to life a giant bloody stool and dressed it in a tacky silk suit. An alternative theory; they have all been on a fad diet where they consume nothing but Chef-Boy-R-Dee Ravioli, Kraft American singles, Cheetos, Circus Peanuts, and Tang for months.

Then, as if it weren't bad enough ...they have the nerve to cluelessly pose and be photographed with those smug self-satisfied facial expressions that say; "the world bores me cuz I'm cool". A fitting punishment would be drowning in a vat of chlorine bleach. Are they under the mistaken impression that miniature crisco-mohawks are stylish? In the lower picture it looks like the hair that you see in post-mortem tintype photographs of deceased Old West gunfighters which were taken prior to burial at boot hill. Have the candied-yam twins ever considered just putting down the video games for a couple of hours and going outside in the sun?

What about these girls? How can they sit in the laps of a couple of walking toilet-bowl skidmarks and not be repulsed by the stench? What were their parents thinking when they opened the front door to meet their sweet young daughter's date for the evening and found Mr. Hanky standing there? Evidently, Olsen Twin imitator #2 (in the upper foto) has developed a melanoma below the corner of her left eye from standing too close to these clownish faux burn patients. What is most astounding is that these girls are not ashamed to be seen in public with them...and they are not even the least bit concerned about getting feces stains rubbed-off onto their clothes.

It's understandable that youngish girls' taste in males should tend more towards the juvenile. In not too many years they can look forward to being sexually disappointed by a somehwhat older and experienced man whose skintone does not make him resemble a cartoon character or the winner of a pumpkin pie eating contest.

Anyway, I think that I'll never touch another sweet potato, again. EVER!