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Dear Orris Nov. 2004 Issue__


Dear Orris:

Would you please tell me your thoughts concerning the Presidential


election? You are so wise and well-versed on politics. You are the best!!

Love,

Doug Z.
Twin Falls, IL

Dear Doug:

Lay off me, man. I just ate at Skeeter’s International House of Waffles and Deep-Fried Arterial Plaque. And stop your
praise before you ass-kiss yourself into a coma. As far as the election I’m happier than Skook with a $100 gift certificate
to Fred’s House of Knobby Dildos. Let me tell you about the Democrats. A colon doesn’t have to be the biggest or most
prominent to offend on a grand scale. Even the tiniest rectum can issue a rank discharge that curls nostril hairs on a
national level. Take John Kerry, the product of an alcoholic janitor’s defective seed who bears the pinched, bug-eyed
demeanor of a man who’s just taken a cock up his ass and came close to smearing his fecal agenda across the face of
America. Mr. Flip-flop proved himself to be the shittiest dookie-stirring dick and back alley cocksucker the Dem’s have
ever run. Luckily this colonic candidate’s noxious vapors have dissipated and we’re clear for the next 4 years.

Rock the Vote,

Uncle Orris

Den dat Tommy Cox Steph Cox is smokin’ at


say “I’m yo baby’s Tom’s latest antics.
daddy!”

Most distributors will do anything to get


the business of FLUFF.
Dear Orris:

Is there any truth to the rumor your haven’t put out any issues because of the harsh treatment the Cox brothers have shown
to your beneficial publication including tearing up copies on draft night?

The Commissioner
Big Bub, IL

Dear Commish:

Your team is festering like a clam house dumpster on an August afternoon. But nice query. Here are the facts of the
matter: Dear Orris worries about no one especially these Special Olympians. They won’t even read my work mainly
because they have become touchier than a blind man reading Penthouse Forum in Braille. Every time a new issue comes
out they scream like a Backstreet Boy taking a polo mallet to the nuts.

Kevin Cox is the only league member with a boyfriend named Stump. Stump has a two-liter Pepsi-bottle sized schlong
and his idea of foreplay is hooking up an extra quart of blood to his arm so he can get a hard-on without passing out. And
Tim Cox hasn’t recovered since they had Gay Week on Animal Planet.

Then there is the trifecta.

The other day I walked into Schlotzky’s and was greeted by Karmoosh, a go-getting immigrant from some country whose
flag depicts an American being shot. After listening to his line of shit I realized it was Tom Cox! He wanted to sell me a
car in the parking lot all the while telling me it ran a little hot and that the muffled voice in the trunk is a fucking liar.
Wow! Obviously they need help and I am here to provide it.

The Daddy
Fair and Balanced, IL

Craig shows Zach the


intricacies of diving

And remember,
Skook…

The Cox brothers


successfully interview
another cashier.
Dear Orris:

Do you have an Arny update for us? Next year I want a ride home from Bill, too!

Steve Sprague,
Far Away, IL

Dear Sprag-o:

One of my duties is keeping track of some of our more disturbed league members. Close to the top of that list is Mr.
Douglas Arnold. Let me start with his early season trading. Arny forgot to call the commissioner after making a wine-
induced trade and for a while players were being tossed around like a drunken dwarf at a biker rally. Then there was the
Chicago incident. Arny got strip searched at Soldier Field last September. During the anal cavity exam he kept whispering
over and over “Oh yeah, daddy, that’s the spot,” until Tony the Sausage-Fingered Freak quit his probing. Later Doug woke
up after the full moon feeling like he was coming down off a bad meth jag and coughing up fur balls. Then he found out
he had shit his unitard. Your chances of getting a ride home from Bill next year smell worse than a tuna sandwich in the
glove compartment of a black car parked in a Phoenix parking lot.

Good luck!
Mr. O

Tom C. Asks:
“Howz yo’ lunch? Y’all gedda nuff ta eat?”

Yum!

Coming soon…Dear Orris Playoff Predictions