Headline: Tenacious DFP
We here at the ol’ Free Press are finally on vacation.
We’ve got to get out of the city, and grandma’s house just won’t cut it this year. (Don’t worry, grandma, we still love your sweet potato pie and that story about grandpa and the meat-grinder.)
We want to go somewhere nice. Maybe we can slap on our cheeseheads and hop on out to Milwaukee. Mmmm … sipping on Milwaukee’s Best and munching on kielbasa. That’d be one humdinger of a vacation, eh Floyd?
But maybe that would be too cold. Cuba’s warm. We could get phony British passports and make our way down there. Imagine sitting on the beach in our olive green jumpsuits, enjoying all Communism has to offer. And we’d give Fidel nice gifts, courtesy of our friend [bold—C-bold]harles [bold—I-bold]gnatius [bold—A—bold]nderson. We’re so sneaky.
After getting thrown out of Cuba on a used radial tire, we could float to the real hot spot in Panama City Beach, Fla. There’s nothing like packing into a city with thousands of college kids who crave sex in much the same way kids in fat camp starve for Snickers bars. Except the kids in Panama City Beach drink enough booze to kill a yak, and to them, chocolate is just a warm-up, not the main course.
However, you’re not invited, Kyle. We never liked you. Go sit in your tower.
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