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by: kate28   (08/02/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Cargo Pants Designer.
You finally gave us what we wanted. The military look-
Without all that bothersome drilling, marching, and shooting.
(fashion victory)
Is that a banana in your pocket?
And an orange.
And a pocket comb.
And an extra set of keys.
And my sunglasses.
(totally prepared now)
How many times have you been in a restaurant and thought:
”Man, I wish I’d brought my own jar of mayonnaise.”
Now you can.
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Oh Prince of the Pockets. Some may fill your shoes,
But no one can fill your pants.
We Salute You
1,276 Clicks

by: kate28   (08/28/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Half-Time Shooting Contest Contestant.
For the promise of free t-shirts,
Or a year supply of socks,
You take to the court ready to put on a clinic in abject humiliation.
(take 'em to school, yeah)
You keenly sense how much the crowd yearns for your failure,
And you deliver.
(from DOWNTOWN yeah)
It's hard to make a shot from half-court,
But it's even harder to make one when you shoot like an 80-year-old grandmother.
(you're a staaaar)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Admiral of the Airball.
You may not have won that new car,
But you won something a lot more valuable,
Our hearts.
We Salute You
1,270 Clicks

by: kate28   (05/27/2008)

Today we salute you Mr. Boneless Buffalo Wing Inventor.
How do you improve upon a meat that is breaded, buttered, double-fried
And dipped in blue cheese dressing?
Remove the only part that doesn't contain fat.
(don't need no chicken bone)
Gone now is the race to eat the drumsticks first,
Leaving the wings for the other poor suckers.
(hands off my drummies)
Is it leg?
Is it wing?
Is it rear end?
Now every chunk is as identical as it is indistinguishable.
(hope I'm not eating rear end)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light,
Boneless Wing Mastermind.
Because we don't have a bone to pick with you.
We Salute You
1,261 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
1,260 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
1,240 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
1,239 Clicks

by: kate28   (12/05/2008)

Today we salute you, Mr. Male Football Cheerleader.
Real men don't just play smash mouth football,
Real men turn cartwheels and somersaults on the sidelines,
Tucked safely away from the action.
(don't touch me now)
Fourth down and inches,
The game's on the line,
It all comes down to you.
Will you call for a perky pyramid,
Or a line dance?
(get on my shoulders)
Knock em back,
knock em back
Alllll the way to hack em sack
(rah rah rah rah rha zis boom bah)
So grab an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Male Football Cheerleader.
You may never score a touchdown, but you're peppy
And that's gotta count for something.
We Salute You
1,238 Clicks

by: kate28   (10/17/2007)

Today we salute you Mr. Hot Stock Tip Giver Outer
Why go to professional analysts
When we can get inside information from your brother-in-law's sister's fourth cousin's step-father?
(on your mother's siiiide)
Sure, you may know absolutely nothing
But we know even less
Your motto:
Buy low, sell low,
Get other people to buy low and sell low.
(Keeeep hope alive)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, oh Titan of the Tip
Although you're always wrong
You'll always be our Mr. Right.
We Salute You
1,236 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
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
1,234 Clicks

by: kate28   (07/01/2009)

Today we salute you,
Mr. Pickled Pigs Feet Eater.
Ignoring all you know about pigs,
And where they live,
And what they step in,
You look at their pickled paws and say "yummy".
(lookin' tasty)
Craving only the most daring meal,
You pass up the cow tongue,
Skate by the head cheese,
Dismiss the rocky mountain oysters.
(rocky mountain oysters)
But a pigs foot soaked in pickle juice?
Now that's good eatin'.
(save me a big one)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. Pickled Pigs Feet Eater,
Cause it takes guts to eat those feet.
We Salute You
1,232 Clicks

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