Holy fish poop! Fergit my upcoming birfday dinner of bone-in filet mignon at Flemings. I want a couple of these mutha-suckers. I ain't never got a fricken decent toy for my birfday in over sixty years. I wants one and I best be gittin' one o' them sombitches or I will hold my breath until I fart - and pitch a fit AND FART SOME MORE.
The Oracle apologizes for the preceding tantrum. As the Belle of Ballast Point has mentioned on numerous occasions, "Your editor is older than dirt and rational thought and behavior seem to be things of the past."
At least we don't have to worry about him wandering out in the street butt-nekkid.
"JR, GET YOUR FLABBY ASS BACK IN THE HOUSE THIS MINUTE!" - and put some clothes on, dammit.
We don't get paid enough for this shit.