Thir-Team Meeting Part Seven

Howdy, y'all. Now, I ain't gonna be commentin' on any of this h'yah steer paddies some of y'all've been dumpin' willsie-dillsie on these proceedings as I haven't the slightest idear what some of it even means...and I'm an edu-muh-cated bid-ness man as you y'all should be able to espy by my--if I may say so--rathah natty threads (learned a thang or two 'bout stylin' dressin' from Deion and Mickey Irvin, see?) and confident, over-bearin' posture (I s'pose my ovah-sized belt buckle with matchin' spurs don't hurt none eithah...less I giddy-ya-up with a poke in the torso if ya mouth off at me...ask Emmitt 'bout the sometime). 'Though I does 'spect that Osmond ain't quite right...somethin' 'bout the shine comin' off her face...'pears it could be plastic or some sortah space age plastic...I got some pardners ovah at NASA, so, if necessary, I could look into this figuh. Wouldn't mine showin' muh fleshy-brand to that Nana neithah...she'd be thankin' me later and callin' me Jerry Bones...haw haw haw...jez like half the cheerleadahs that been under my employ (haw haw haw...gittit? Under!!!). Anyway, back tah the proceedins at hand. 'Bout this kid h'yah. TIP. He and Us gots at least one thang in common...which is why he's afore us for this h'yah vote. And ya know what? H'yah's what I thank. Lotsa great thangs start with the letteh T, y'all catch my tumbleweed? T's usually, in my estimation, signify great thangs; thangs like: Texas. C'mon now. Greatest state in the country AND Home to America's Team. Y'all got that right. Thanksgiving. See, my team plays every goddamn Turkey Day...it's a tradition. Maybe 'cept for po-tential tryptophan overdosing...could make a fellow nod off during the game...and that ain't right. Tubs. Whethah they're Hot Tubs or Tubs of Fried Chicken bits...man...put those together with some Triplets...that's a great way to unwind after a long day of making money...and I do make a lot of it. Fact is, I's gots so much scratch that I'm currently wearin' a pair of boxahs tailored togetheh from $2 bills. Afterwards, I can prove this to any y'all be scratchin' your noodles wonderin' if'n I'm tellin' a Tall Tale. You takin' notes, Nana? Topiary. Now who in their right mind don't like ornamental shrubs? Shee-oot. If a man don't care for topiary should stop by my ranch estate and check out my 20 foot topes in the shape of John Wayne wrasslin' Joseph Stalin. And on and on...and I could go on. But why bother? Y'all ain't gonna change mah mind. This kid belongs 'mongst us based solely on his handle.