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by: kate28   (07/10/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Cruise Ship Entertainer.
When Tinsel Town and Broadway said "no,"
The cruise ship said "yes."
(ohh yeah)
You may never get your star on Hollywood’s walk of fame,
But you do get free access to the salad bar
(mmm croutons)
Your peppy numbers bring the audience to their feet,
Which is impressive, because most of them use walkers.
(osteoporosis)
Your motto: The show must go on…
And on…
And on…
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Prince of the Port Hole.
You can swab our poop deck,
Anytime.
We Salute You
1,321 Clicks

by: kate28   (08/02/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Camouflage Suit Maker.
Your amazing skills of deception can trick a deer into thinking we’re just a tree out for a walk,
Or a shrub having a cup of coffee.
(shrub havin’ coffee)
Tirelessly you perfect your artistry:
The squiggly black line.
The blob.
The slightly larger blob.
All in spectacular shades of green
(green green green)
Thanks to you we look fabulous in or out of the forest,
With a suit that can easily be accessorized with face paint and a few twigs.
(dressed to kill)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Camouflage Suit Maker.
Because when it comes to blending in, You really stand out.
We Salute You
1,297 Clicks

by: kate28   (05/27/2008)

Today we salute you Mr. Deer-Hunter.
You, the burly man with the tattoos from 1984 have proven to the world that yes,
A human being wearing camouflaged clothing with scent stopping fibers,
Night vision goggles,
A three thousand foot viewing scope,
A fifteen thousand dollar military sniper rifle,
And tank-armor piercing bullets,
Can indeed kill a female deer drinking from a stream.
You have proven that not only can ducks and turkeys be stopped by your quick hand and pinpoint accurate shot,
But so can black bears and even mountain lions.
So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, Mr. Outdoor-sie,
Because we all know,
It is men like you that will conquer this world of primal beasts and animals,
Until, of course, Wal-Mart runs out of bullets.
We Salute You
1,296 Clicks

by: kate28   (08/28/2008)

Today we salute you Mr. Fake Tattoo Inventor.
Through the miracle of hypoallergenic adhesives,
You transform us from mild mannered accountants
Into roadhouse biker hooligans
(hoooligan)
Be it screaming skull,
Or thrashing tiger,
You've got a temporary alter-ego for any occasion.
(flaming dragon)
What else says "I love you, mom"
Like a heart with a sword through it?
(you know I love you momma)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Fake Tattoo Inventor Guy.
We may not have been born to ride,
But thanks to you,
We can feel like it.
We Salute You
1,296 Clicks

by: kate28   (08/28/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Gasoline BBQ Starter.
Never mind charcoal chimneys
And easy lighting brickettes.
The only way to start a real barbecue
Is with a gallon of 93 Octane
And a big book of matches
(light up the sky)
Who needs eyebrows?
You're hungry,
And you've seven pounds of lamb shanks ready to go.
(that's a lot of kebabs)
You don't just defy convention,
You defy warning labels,
And common sense.
(very low IQ)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Prince of the Pyrotechnic.
Because no one makes a backyard mushroom cloud like you.
We Salute You
1,295 Clicks

by: kate28   (06/02/2009)

Today we salute you,
Mr. Moped Sooper Upper.
Any tourist can rent a crummy bicycle with an engine,
But only you have the moxy to put a V-twin on it and fly up Diamond Head without a helmet.
(YEAH!)
Is that a volcano erupting?
No, it's just your muffler.
(mine's louder than yours)
You take an under-powered piece of junk and turn it into an.. over-powered piece of junk.
(Get my motor running)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, O Maestro of the Motorbike. We'd sing your praises,
But with that muffler,
You couldn't hear us.
We Salute You
1,295 Clicks

by: kate28   (04/17/2008)

Today we salute you Mr. Bumper Sticker Writer.
Never has one man written so much for so many.
Without you the world may never have known "you can't hug with nuclear arms."
(i need a hug now!)
And just like you,
I, too, would rather be fishing,
Or squaredancing,
Or even shopping
(ooh yea)
I owe, I owe, so off to work I go.
You said it brother.
(you speak the truth)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Bard of the Bumper,
Thanks to you,
I know it's perfectly all right to honk if I'm horny.
(honk honk beep honk)
We Salute You
1,292 Clicks

by: kate28   (08/28/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Furniture Assembly Manual Writer.
Thanks to you,
People everywhere can simply purchase furniture,
Drive it home,
Open a box,
And go completely insane.
(drivin' me crazy)
Knowing we can't read Chinese, Dutch, or German,
You thoughtfully include pictures.
Pictures that look nothing like the item purchased.
(no sprechen ze Deutsch now)
Insert piece A into slot B,
Peg C into hole D,
Then curse,
Cry,
And smash with hammer.
(ohh nooo)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Mistro of the Manual.
You make it so simple a monkey could do it.
A rocket scientist monkey.
(that's one smart monkey)
We Salute You
1,292 Clicks

by: kate28   (09/10/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Hawaiian Shirt Pattern Designer
You provide us with colorful loungewear capable of hiding any stain we can dish out.
(gettin sloppy)
Who else could create flowered shirts that are still so unmistakeably masculine,
A single shirt that matches every pair of pants we own,
And really sets off a white belt?
(looking good now)
Sure women say they hate them,
But inside they're all swooning for the big kahuna.
(ooh kahuna!)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Hawaiian Shirt Pattern Designer.
Your shirts may not be made in Hawaii,
But Taiwan is an island, too.
We Salute You
1,292 Clicks

by: kate28   (05/29/2009)

Today we salute you,
Mr. Overzealous Foul Ball Catcher.
You're nowhere close to that foul ball heading for the bleachers.
Who cares?
You're goin' for it.
(that ball's MIIINE)
Hot dog vendors.
Old ladies.
Infants.
You mow them over like a diesel-powered combine.
(yeahhhh)
Ashamed of your souvenir fervor?
Hardly.
You scratch and gouge your way to the ball like a blood-thirsty wolverine.
(you're a fiesty rodent)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Bully of the Bleachers.
Because why pay for a souvenir,
When you can fight for one?
We Salute You
1,290 Clicks


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