From: joemahoney1950@gmail.com   
      
   My many munchers of the mango morel, you probly of guessed it by now, I'M   
   IRISH.   
      
   You guessed it by my red haya, my butchy eyebrow's, my hot tempa, my penchant   
   (sp) fer pumpin in fist in the aya and screamin profantie's at da toppa my   
   lungga's, so loud everbuddy in the naybahood, or even the Ho Whirl can hears   
   it.     
      
   You probly guessed from the way I guzzel my Bug Lite, can afta 16-oz can,   
   belchin so loud afta eash one the flo and sealin vibrates, sendin messages and   
   aroma's from the depf's of my lowa intextine.   
      
   You prolly guest it from the way I EAT, all loud and noisy, no napperkim's oh   
   plates, justa big gobba a on my lap, belchin and spewin, talkerin (profanty)   
   with my mouf full, sendin food chunks hurlin crost the stratis-feea, rite onto   
   your not-so-freckled    
   face, where it shall sray, hoddin and encrustify.   
      
   And as you also prolly guest ot, comerin soon is my favriy Holdee, Saint   
   Paddy's day,when we will sit, on the couch, gapin at the Teebee (spots an Flox   
   News) like dead slabs a meatloaf, belchin and fottin up a strum.     
      
   We Irish, we don't like seafood.  And we don't like spice.  We don't like   
   thought, and we don't approve of sex, unless it's between two consenterin   
   males, in the closet, or coush, or public pocks of LA.     
      
   We don't like fitch or spice, but we luv our Con Beef wif Cabbidge.    
      
   So put em in the pot, boil em in the watra, chill yer cases of Bug Lite and   
   invite me ova.  And I'll bd theya in Green Suit witha Bible.   
      
   And when ya ain't lookin, I'LL MY RED IRISH DICK IN YO CON BEEF.   
      
   AN MY SCROTUM.   
      
   Joe "spiritual not religious" M.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)