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Clutch Murphy has a bone to pick over Thanksgiving. Matteo Torretta adds some Italian zest. The Whore delights in discovering an unexpectedly kind AoMS mention on "The Rev Up Review", but it comes as no surprise when LINK shares way too much or when Buttons fiddles with his gear..
The Word Whore swings both ways. Phil Collins is a KATG groupie. Charlie Sheen has been shellacked. Buttons finds shiny bits of Harry Potter in his potty. Void Munashii's neo-noir cinderella story, "Nick Iron and the Case of the Lost Shoe", dispenses an expanse of thigh.
It is the Tenth Anniversary of the first ever episode of Air Out My Shorts and THE ROOF IS ON FIRE!! Eric Lehmann’s dyslexia leads to a fishy dish. James Bond... Made in Canada?? Pauly B Edwards hedges his bets on a real live girl, while The Right Rev Chumley LIVES THE DREAM of copyright-infringement-free costume carving.
The King and Queen of “The Slush Pile” muse about their retirement and plug their much anticipated autobiography (celebratory parade to be held somewhere in Nawlins - TBA!). Fenwick Rixey sloughs off an unresolved secondhand tale of gay robs and fishy bitches. Dean shatters his dreamy image, but his wife picks up the smouldering pieces. Cyber smoke signals appreciated: 305-600-5832
Buttons and The Whore reminisce about the dampening properties of Link’s DNA. DocZim stocks the mailbag, but risks a polite 10-Minute Canadian Shanking. Brian Lieberman readies himself for a soulless career and a B-DOOMED future family, but he’s ALL GROWED UP NOW and we think he’s gonna kick some serious A55!
Seasons Greetings, to all, from Preston Buttons and The Word Whore. Thank you for your valued story submissions and your continued listenership. HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Please Call: 305-600-5832
Preston pretends to know nothing about picking through historical shit, while The Word Whore yanks her OWN chain …just a little too hard. TTN’s Scott STEALS (and then messes with) priceless Artifacts. MaxMax chimes in… literally. CALL NOW: 305-600-5832
MaxMax serves up some swingin’ (yet, very unclear) alliterated alcopop. Banacek’s grasp of THE NEW 'promotional machine’ is as fuzzy as the machine itself. The Whore claims to have never put 'lips to rim’, despite what’s dribbling down her chin. Buttons ruins Christmas.
Doczim lets Buttons and The Whore play with his fuzzy little “Hellspawn", against his fuzzy little ‘better judgements’. Orange is the new Navy. Twitter is the new Electro-Mechanical Rotor Cipher Machine. Here, Kitty Kitty.
Something long and white and wriggling spews up from the mailbag, courtesy of ExParrot… it’s charming! Preston indulges his poly-curious wife, every other week, and The Word Whore sprouts a second head. Dodecahedron!