Hawk! Patootie.


If you’re easily offended, stop reading.
If you have a sense of humor, get this one:
Imagine what it must have felt like being
Joan of Arc as she stood on the unholy
alter of chopped down wood while some Englishman
lit the pyre with a torch. What do you think
crossed her mind? In English, Lady. S’il vous plait.
“Pardon me, God? Get me the hell out of here.
These Englishmen smell like goat feces. I blow
my nose in their general direction. Ah
haw haw! Zee joke is on you, English Pigdogs!
Your mother was a hamster and your father
smelt of elderberries. Look! Up in the sky!”


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