FooDaddy: Welcome to the show, sir! It's a pleasure to have you on. If I may begin by--
The Old Man: Begin my kneecap! I ain't tellin' you and your fancy suit nuthin' til I get some crackers.
FD: I suppose that could be arranged. We don't normally--
FD: Right. (waves hand in a dismissive gesture) I'll see right to it.
OM: 'Nuffa the dismissery, son.
FD: Very perceptive. Now, it's been obvious to our regular viewer that you've become something of a celebrity here on the Blog of Stupid. You've made headway into the rough-and-tumble world of cotton and stoneware. What has that done to your everyday life?
OM: Er, um. Whut're you on about now? What's this about bone wear? I ain't got osteoporosis! That's a complete bag'a cat burps! (waves cane at host, who shields himself with a copy of the Old Man's autobiography)
FD: I meant, sir, that you're appearing on mugs and T-shirts!
OM: First I heard 'bout it. Rotten buncha... (he trails off and begins rummaging in the front pocket of his sweatshirt) Whur's my mints? Tricky devils.
FD: (coughs politely) Yes, well, that's what my research department told me, and most of them actually wear your shirts on Fridays. It seems you've made quite a splash.
OM: Lies! All lies! I may be older'n you, Chuckles, but I still gots control a my facilities!
FD: Your... Your what? I mean, um. (pause before dawning comprehension) Oh. Oh! No, that's not what I meant! That was just an attempt at mildly offensive potty humor.
OM: Just like your generation, too. And by the way, you can't have nunna these mints. They's mine.
FD: (blank stare)
OM: What's that bitta bum-scrubbery you got there, fatty? (gestures with his chin at the book the host still clutches)
FD: This? (holds book up to camera) This is your autobiography! I'm told that you wrote it in order to pass on your wisdom to the, and now I read from the back cover, "hedonistic little whelps whut's always loud and could use a proper whompin'."
OM: They could!
FD: With your permission, I'd like to read the introduction, sir. We've got a few minutes before we have to go to commercial.
FD: (carrying on valiantly) From the Old Man's autobiography, titled (camera zooms in on cover) I've Had Enough Of This Dill Puckery!
Uh, wait. (flips through book rapidly) This whole book's nothing but shopping lists!
OM: (waking) Son-of-a--!
FD: (tossing book over shoulder) That's all the time we've got today, folks! When we return, the--
OM: (glaring at host) You're still here? Whut? Hey! I oughta! Whur's my crackers?
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