Spelling bee champion misspells Karl Marx
July 19th 2008 23:43
The word's greatest spiller, kiddy porn controversy denier, humble pie manufacturer, bigot squasher, argumentative tail-chaser, ignored and vilified martyr, tea-slipper, Kamahl enthusiast, heroic saviour of the maniacal and depressed, donkey-wielder, robot-inventor, carrot-catcher and man with a pair of sucks down his pants, has scoffed at claims he can't spell Karl Marx.
"Put it in a sentence," he said adjusting his larger-than-life sized image of himself emblazoned on his jockeys.
Lay off the whip, for pity's ache.
"Karl Marx was someone who sat around while working robots went about their lives," the master of the unceremonious replied.
It was at this point that the champion smeller, a champion in every sentence of words, fluffed his pants.
"There's not a word I know, and I know them all, that I don't know the meaning of, let alone know how to smell," he said, sitting around while working people went about other peoples' businesses.
"C-A-R-L," he spelled Karl.
I'm sensing this isn't how to conduct yourself in public.
I hate to sound like a smarty pants.
"Put it in a sentence," he said adjusting his larger-than-life sized image of himself emblazoned on his jockeys.
Lay off the whip, for pity's ache.
"Karl Marx was someone who sat around while working robots went about their lives," the master of the unceremonious replied.
It was at this point that the champion smeller, a champion in every sentence of words, fluffed his pants.
"There's not a word I know, and I know them all, that I don't know the meaning of, let alone know how to smell," he said, sitting around while working people went about other peoples' businesses.
"C-A-R-L," he spelled Karl.
I'm sensing this isn't how to conduct yourself in public.
I hate to sound like a smarty pants.
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