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Fantastic word game

Without anyone seeing him do it, the ol' hayseed went n' over served himself (yup, again, n' I prolly did get yer'n too, WMC) n' then found that his trusty, online horse, Algorithm, has got him listenin' to some purdy strange Christmas Music.

n' seein' as how it's the season o' givin', I'd simply be remiss not to share.

 
Twelve Pains of Christmas is a timeless classic fer us Gen-tiles, but let's not fer-get 'bout our friends up in the boudoir who celebrate the season a little bit differently.

 
Celebrate the season a little bit differently or not at all, if that's your preference, but be aware that the particular observance of which Mr. Sandler fancies himself to be an unofficial spokesman is over and done with.

And has been for three days. But a happy Christmas to all who are still making merry, singing, praying, reflecting, or even engaging in snowy redneckery in their 400 horsepower sleigh!
 
With this contribution, allow me to be the next person to wish everyone a very merry Christmas.

Band camp parade starts in 20 minutes. Good to see all volunteers at their stations. CT, just for today, I recommend putting away the bag of demerits.
 
A very Merry Christmas to each of you, and as a particularly special gift to my good friend, the former Game Czar, I send those Texas Tidings, not of the magpie sort, but hatless, and as sober as the Pa...er, Dave Margalotti on a Sunday morning.

May each of you have a great day, and enjoy it to the utmost.

*puts the hat on*

See y'all in the early mornin'! ✌️🤠
 
Dave Margalotti on a Sunday morning usually has important things to do that do not include TFWG.

Well, thank you, rosecity. And I wish you and your loved ones a very warm, special and merry day as well.
 
TFWG regulars might be wondering right now if the morning after Christmas is too soon to be resuming normal, irreverent, sarcastic, skeptical contributions after the past couple of days of reverent, magnanimous, full-of-goodwill posts.
 
Posts that are mean-spirited, vulgar, distasteful, stomach-turnin', sexual in nature, n' at times rather incomprehensible, really have no place in a family-oriiented game like this, but, then again, neither does the Stetson hat or a wild-eyed, long-haired, galut who lives underneath it.

"puts the Stetson hat back on"

...but if'n I weren't here, where'd the fun in that be? We ain't got no Die-rector o' Fun no more, so I gotta just go 'bout makin' a lil' o' my own.

Yer mighty doggone welcome. 🤗
 
*takes off Stetson, puts on tinfoil*

Communicate with us, oh rulers of this galaxy, and please let us all know when you do come back to co-lect your forgotten, fellow cosmonaut, WMC.

He's going to have some unpaid humans, of the female persuasion in tow, who seem be under some unexplained spell of his mind control ray, but will bake all of the Earthly goods you will need to be pleased. 😁
 
I shall do it for him, but it ain't really my place.

"Alright, interns. Ev'ryone up 'ginst that wall right yonder. It's time fer yer an-yul Tidbits in-spec-shun."

Don't you worry none, now. The old hayseed's hands may be calloused, but I have a soft touch with the fillies.

😁 🎉
 
Third time the Cajun Queen n' I went out on a date, I asked her, "Cajun Queen ('cuz o' course, that's what I called her), how 'bout you n' I go back to my barn, up my hayloft's ladder, n' do us a lil' frolickin'?", n' she says back to me, "Honey, you need a bigger hat."

So, I tossed my Rangers ball cap in the fire pit, bought me a Stetson, n' married that beautiful, voodoo girl from Pineville, Louisiana. Best dee-sizhun I ever made in my doggone life.

I sure do love n' miss you, girl, but I'll see you a'gin, someday.🌹🌹🌹
 
Sometime during Bill Clinton's second term in the White House, he denied havin' sex-yul ree-lashuns with that there woman, n' no sir, he ain't never inhaled, neither.

You might not like Bill, n' Lord knows that a drive through Arkansas will show you, firsthand, that he wudn't payin' much attention to the folks back at home, but by gum, I'd take his comical shenanigans over this here current sit-u-ashun any ol' day.
 
Which one dudn't matter much, compadre, 'cuz the less we ree-flect back on all o' them pooches, the better.

As rich as he was/is, you'd a thought he could pull a higher class o' dame.
 


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