Street Vendors

The only street vendor of whom I may be slightly aware would be that sewer-mouthed trailer-trash Northern California dog named Dolly 'Ophelia?' Bangert. I roomed with that piece of dirt at college for less than one semester and even that was much too much time to be exposed to that piece of dirt and all of the foul emanations from her putrefied personality, including a slew of obscene jokes about missionaries that stunned with the absolute depravity of her pathetically stupid mind. I see that she is now some sort of land and agriculture spokesperson for the West Coast weirdo club. It is rather shocking to see how that piece of trash could ever get a job as public spokesperson and stand at a podium advocating for agricultural issues and farmers after regaling college classmates with obscene stories regarding her towtruck driver boyfriend. I am not saying what is fair but, really, if I am fired over a silly story about fireworks then she deserves to get her butt kicked to hell for what she did if everyone really got what they deserved in this life. Of course, nobody really gets what they really deserve. In eternity is not my place to say. But I didn't make her say all those horrid things. I was just listening. Or else if she could succeed, why can't I do better also? I wasn't half as bad as she was so I ought to be able to twice as much better without any Dolly Din Dirt links to weigh me down, if only life were even halfway fair. I am just saying. Someone really ought to put those Northern California dogs back in their places because they really are suffocating the interests of truth and justice. I am just saying.