Rancor. Vile. Putrid. Words used most commonly to describe a swine that has the runs. But in our situation we could find no finer words to amplify our dear friend, Jimbo.
He is a man of few words. Simple words. Words reflecting the intellect of a three-year old that has been raised by wolves. And the wolves would have to be pretty darn stupid.
With dumbo ears, a smile more crooked than the Ifle Tower he is a natural eye sore.
We have many questions we wish to ask him.
Why does he text on his cell phone in his journalism class?
Why doesn't he wear a paper bag over his head?
Why, Jimmy? . . . Just. . . why?
But we know he won't understand.
Jimmy has a crooked smile
Kids do laugh yet all the while
He studies the wall as if looking for a sign
But in reality he wastes his time
He has not future and no hope
In fewer words he's just a dope
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