Whiner

There is nothing more to life than whining that someone wrote a blog about you, and it hurt your feelings like a hooker that was shorted on a payment. That kind of stuff cracks me up. If you want to squeal, whine, or cry, take your goofy ass out in the country where there is nothing around and light it up, and whatever you do, don't let a comic KNOW we are getting to you.
So, to level out the playing field, since your just a bullfighter trying to be something, until someone rains on your parade. I am going to make a match out of the offer, and give the bull a sword. Let's see how you fair in the sword fights. Well, you may have it down, I mean, you are in love with a stripper and all. Just cause you run around with disco lights on your "other" car, don't mean we all have to stop and pay attention to the needy.
All I can say is, don't whine, don't sit next to the penis cake licking your lips all night, and lastly, don't be a part time cop who can't even carry real bullets, you have to tote around them rubber bullets in Indian Nation. What's wrong with this picture? Nothing on my level, you came you saw you spoke out loud. I ate it, and you are butt hurt, not as butt hurt as your woman when she unzips her pussy and lets her dick hang out. But you are tracking.
Never ever in life let a comic know they are getting to you. If you remember that, you will make it far, just go with the flow, laugh, have a good time. But if you spent your whole life being the butt of the joke, I wonder what it is that draws us into you. Not really that kind of into, but your like sitting around someone with no tongue trying to listen to a story. Peace out officer Laurel Nebraska. We love you, we love to pick fun at you, and let the games begin there Hightower. If only your father wrapped ole willy not to be silly, then I would have to find another.

Laurel Nebraska Cop

In my journey around this great area we call the Midwest, I get to meet alot of great people, lots of weird people, and many comedians. Or I guess, everyone is a comedian when there's a comedian. But, the newest member of the stuck in head club, would happen to be a part time officer in Laurel Nebraska. That poor kid, I was busting on him, then found out he was a cop, and holy balls, I tea bagged him like the hooker he was.
Nothing says I'm a cop more than sitting at the table with the food, in which the food was 2 pink penis cakes. I had to watch him so he didn't start licking the frosting. I honestly thought he was enjoying eyeballing the cake, which he wouldn't admit. But come to find up, he had a cover up wife for 7 years, which really is a long time for a woman to figure out where the door is. I didn't see a picture. But, now he has himself a chick he is proud of.
He has one of them stripper chicks. The one's that everyone gets to see naked but you, the ones that have more diseases than a rat in Boston, one that can do some funky things in the sheets. And he is proud, ONLY IN NEBRASKA. I was telling him, if I had a calendar, 420 would be a date each month, and Willie Nelson would be President. I went on and on about weed how the cops are so insecure they want to keep it illegal so they have a job. Because, if your stoned, your not going to speed, I mean 25 is freaking flying, and you won't steal, that requires having to wait until you can feel your legs, and if anything the economy is going to get alot of help, cause we are going to be buying food. On and on I went, then I got my small town cop joke.
Said I love small towns cause there is only one officer, I like to catch him, rip down his pants and cuff him to the main street light pole. And THAT'S where the secret was out. One person said he would like that, so I being me, looked at the guy by the penis cakes, and said you the cop? To much of my surprise, YES HE WAS. I damn sure made sure he had enough beer to drink, so I could get the heck out of town. But this is the same cop that tried to pull over some Federal Agents, and walked up to the car, and they lite that Suburban up like a Christmas Tree. Nothing says Have a nice day like pulling over the F.B.I. when you are a part timer, in a small town, and have no idea what a tazer looks like.
This is the kid of guy you hand a condom to and he thinks it's a single wrapped breath mint, I tell ya, a real no brainer. But, I did let him know, he is the sorry subject for a blog, and now ya got it. So, if your not a gay cop, don't be silly wrap ole willy.