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from: official spokes model
216.198.7.130-3/6/00-3:22:26
To cope with the meteoric rise of this message board's skyrocketing popularity, some of the Fan Club Prayer Warriors got together and held an all night vigil, e-mailing Cyber *HUGS* relentlessly across 7 continents, looking willy-nilly for that one, turnkey, promotional icon that would "grab 'em by the balls", and resonate with the notoriously jaded Anti-PPX crowd, a tattered tapestry of loose-lipped knit-wits, strung out on frayed message threads, filtered thru a malignant macramé of Neo-Knot-Heads, connecting the dots between disconnected dot-coms, and desperately vying for the attention of the next wave of goose-stepping Dot-Communists, flood-spawning Internet Chat Channels like vaginal mud-shrimps gone haywire.
Then, like the proverbial straw that broke the camel's humpstack of
dirty eyed needles, SnakeLady's ex-husband showed up at our home office, and asked to
apply for the position of exotic dancer, with hopes of someday appearing in these hallowed
halls of html. Our staff was highly skeptical at first, its was immediately clear to the
untrained eye that SnakeLady's X was an incredibly ugly son-of-a-bitch, hardly the type of
performer featured on these upscale pages. Then, he whipped off his crocheted veil, and
began frugging violently, shamelessly mugging to our net-cams, and reveling in all his
bare-naked, turquoise glory. Frankly, we were grossed out to the max. Our chief technician
almost had his finger on the trap-door exit switch, but suddenly the air was split with
the Window's tada.wav file, which meant
the fan club hit counters were twirling in their sockets. Somehow, thru an unexplainable
crack in the cosmic demographic egg, This wild wigglin', turquoise day-glow, re-animated
monster fetus lookin' go-go dancer from SnakeLady's dumpster was striking a nerve with a
river of untapped, deadbeat doo-dads, penile paper clip pump-ups, and off-the-wall,
bouncing chat-trash jackrabbits, who immediately flocked to this site in droves, madly
trying to click their way into the latest "ultra-hot site". Within 5 minutes, Yahoo, E-Bay, and AOL
crumbled like a house of cards, swamped from the traffic of rosy palmed mouse spankers,
maddogging like lesbian lobster claws, pinching a bottleneck in the bandwidth, and
hog-leggin' like diggity-dogs to get a clear download of Snake-X's lewd machinations. The
Fan Club front door hit counter adds a new digit every 5 minutes now, and this end of the
Internet has had to be rewired with thick solid copper wires from the
Nikola Tesla Museum Of Modem Arcs.
Typically, bandwagon jumping followed, and within 3 days, the Wigglin' Blue Fetus had six-figure offers from every major chat channel on the Net, about 300,000 in all. A frenzy of lucrative contract signing commenced, but there was one ugly blue snag. It seems this shameless shingalinger hasn't been keepin' up with his child support payments to SnakeLady & the little SnakeWigglers. Needless to say, this pissed Dr. Popeye X off to the max, so he called our attorneys, and it seems a little known loophole prevents Snake's-X from signing ANYTHING, until the www.popeye-x.com registered mascot option expires at some future undetermined time.
Until then, this hideously unattractive Boogalooing BlueClot will be performing daily, trying to whittle down his backlogged tab of child support payments to the SnakeLady. As long as the hit counters click forward, and the little Snakes get their food and tennis shoes, PPX is perfectly happy to keep this Turquoise Toe-Tapping-Tush Tickler soft shoeing his little snot-green ass off, thereby propelling this incredible website thru the annals of mouse click history.
