Trust the milkman; don't trust the milkman

 
   "Trust the milkman; don't trust the milkman"
   
   Al Bundy knew of alien women.  Knew they had three breasts.  One on the back for dancing; indeed, I'm a student of history, boy.  Got me some tobaccee for my corn cob pipe and pappy.  
   Is pappy not so nice?  Shucks, gonna put the government in charge of grandma.  Gonna make her like Jango's ship:  SLAVE ONE.  Damn boy, Lando can't freeze everything, like James Dean in dat flick dubbed East of Eden, when they froze 'em some cabbage and kraut.  Krauts have always been frozen.  Blue steel in their frigid blood.  She won't even date Brad Pitt.  Good for her.  She likes her cigarettes and hot java, Maxwell House, with a box of chocolate-smeared cherries, and no--she cannot tie the cherry stem into a knot by way of oral persuasion, for that talent is reserved for tramps and toddlers, so innocent, before you corrupt their baby fat.
   Most people wear glasses to look smart.  Morphs you into a goblin, for ALL to see.  Unlike Air Force Intelligence--that Joint Chief of Staff might like a joint, for he's a Chief, and Chiefs inhale the Otherworld; next, exhale sublimity into the cruel world, just to give the Little Wolf a fighting chance.
   And God crafted coyote.  What a bird.  Don't have a bird, dude.  Whatever you do--don't have a bird, okay, sugar . . .