GOD WORKED ON THE EIGHTH DAY

To those who believe the myth that God worked for six days and then rested on the seventh--BULLSHIT!

He knew that his work wasn't done and returned to his shop on the eighth where he invented air-conditioning. Bears hibernate in the winter because they can't handle the cold. We hibernate during the summer because we can't handle the heat. We seek the cold. More accurately, we couldn't survive without cool houses and cool cars.
There is a silver lining. For once agreement exists between Democrats and Republicans. "It's hot," says a Democrat. "You're right," replies the Republican. "It's hot."
Estanislao Contreras, the controversial poet of Chicano Fuck Songs, and Jack O'Connell, the great unpublished novelist, found refuge in the Palm Lounge during the day with frosty mugs of beer in their hands.
"Have you ever been with a chick that was as hot as our weather?" asked Contreras.
"Sure," answered O'Connell. "I remember one chick who was so hot that I could fry an egg on each cheek of her ass, which combined with my bacon made for a delicious late-morning breakfast."
"It doesn't get any better than that, does it?
"It doesn't get better, but it can get worse," continued O'Connell. "I was with this gal in the middle of July and we drove along the shore north on the Island. There was nobody around and we were horny. It was blazing hot, but we were hotter. She lay in the sand and I inserted myself in her. The sun was beating on my back. It took me a while to come and I could feel myself turning the color of a shrimp. I finally shot my wad. When I pulled myself off of her, I couldn't believe my eyes. Her nipples had melted!"
We are in the middle of the dog days of summer. Fortunately, the gulf breezes start blowing in the late afternoon and nothing prevents us from sitting in our backyards and howling at the moon. It's a small compensation because no amount of screaming at the sun is going to do any good.

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