Drop The Bombs

In Southern China, a fat old commie capitalist is washing viagra down with a tonic made of tiger balls.
20,000 Leagues beneath the sea, the liver of an electric eel is struggling with the mercury created in the production of this pen.
At a posh private school in Malibu, a future President is bullying a nerd who will someday write the great american novel.
In Jamacia, a man with grey dreads is making his living doing head-stands on a beer mug.
In Bombay, a sweet young tech-support is up late, reverently turning the pages of "The Bhagavita."
In a galaxy far, far away, three-headed university students are furiously scribbling notes as they watch Hitler speak at the Berlin Olympics.
In the Sahara Desert, a teen antelope with so much to live for is sprinting faster than he ever has before to escape a lithe older lioness; a 31 year old British babe is congratulating herself on a smashing picture.
In Alaska, a twelve year old girl, whose father is slaving away on a fishing schooner, is deciding if Jay-Z or Fabolos is more talented; She's going to click on Fabolos.
In Sweden, Bjorn Borg, dressed entirely in his own clothing line, is getting a blow job for going above and beyond the call of duty with a wooden racket and a green ball.
In Guam, I'm listening to a bible-thumping meth dealer jack off in the bunk below me as I wistfully watch a grove of palm trees sway in the wind through a barred window.
John Lennon said, "But if you're talking about destruction, you know you can count me out."
But I say, "You know, you can go ahead and drop the bombs."