We the people of the Arthole believe in being unexclusive group to the masses. We would like to recruit more people to the ways of screwing off and the general oddness of us being us, but creating art in the process. All you have to do is answer where your arthole is and a magical cloud of smoke appears, thus indoctrinating you into Arthole. Seems easy enough right? However, there are some people that can't answer this spiritual question correctly and with some semblance of integrity. Case in point, Art Price Jr., of Bellevue, Ohio. He got naked, went on his back deck and had sex with his metal picnic table, but have no fear, he cleaned off the deck afterwards instead of a post·coital smoke. I believe his whole defense for the four felony counts is "the picnic table was asking for it."
Next was a couple of Houston teenagers who dug up a boy's corpse in a cementary to smoke mary jane out of it. A bunch of potheads! Where would the carb hole even be? Why did this ever seem like a good idea? What happened to the patented toilet paper roll make-shift bong that has satisfied many young kids in suburban america for years? I mean we have some kind of standards.
Rear Admiral Becksby
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