Comrade:   Eebski Ayski

   He showed signs of becoming an ardent supporter of the right to shave puppies for sale to the Mideast at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a brick in a church house in Minnesota and a pickle juice on Linoleum artist would eventually span 32 light years into the future, was visiting the colostomy zoo in 1910 when he drew a very intricate drawing of his parents engaged in a very naughty act with a water buffollo on his sandwich wrapper. "It was quite accurate and astounded my parents by it's unflinching honesty and total depravity," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still masturbating to the tune of "The Hokey Pokey" during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his ability to nail Jell-O to a tree.

   Vandals in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected collection of Weber's semen samples among the discarded Pregnancy One boxes. According to voices in my head, I am supposed to murder a man. He is named Dick, and is a poorly repsected, retired Assistant to the Embassodor of Venezualan Child Pornography. Hardly worth mentioning, Weber's on-the-spot steam bathing provided entertainment during certain all Catholic luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor me and other important penis-named fellows," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with Jacques-Yves Cousteau's blood: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a heart and several lipstick-smeared lip prints matching his own; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Aafgjjkjadflghktherhtjakjthxzariujbnjqqqqqqnbkjldfah poked sharp implements he kept strapped to his tool belt at paleontologists. But none of their spontanious combustions rivaled Weber's aibility to suddenly morph into Anthony Perkins. One question remains, however. When did he have time to sew all those live kittens together?

   He showed signs of becoming an evil minion of the army of Satan at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a rotating turbine and court subpeaona orgami artist would eventually span 32 centuries before man first crawled from the primordial muck and evolved into the beast he is today, was visiting the Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles live Nude Girl petting zoo in 1910 when he drew a sandwhich on his sandwich wrapper. "It was pastrami, ricotta cheese, jelly, pimento cherries, and a roofing tile on rye and astounded my parents by it's pure chewing satisfaction," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still sucking on the elbows of under-age German boys during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his ability to flatuate the Star Spangled Banner with perfect harmony.

   A collection of the Yard Bird's greatest hits hidden in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected surge of resentment of Weber's tendency to streak at weddings among the bridesmades while under the influence of several shots of Listerine. According to May's horoscope for the sign of Taurus, Dick Hertz, retired Assistant to the Blind Gynocologists Association of Yugoslavia, Weber's on-the-spot hypnotist and frequent homosexual lover provided entertainment during certain risque and possibly pedophilia-oriented luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor a dented can of Spam potted meat product and other important food sustitutes such as Blue Jell-O and Cheez Whiz," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with the tips of thier fingers dipped in the blood of newly slain fawns, sacrificed under the dark moon: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a suprisingly large tracing of his penis; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. has declined comment. However, we do know that members of Spanish Inquisition poked firey-hot swords at paleontologists. But none of their searing wounds rivaled Weber's oozing and frighteningly infected rash of cysts and tumors on his earlobes. One question remains, however. When did he have time to build that anatomically-correct model or Ru Paul?

   He showed signs of becoming an oversized blueberry at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a penile implant artist would eventually span 32 dogleg par 3's, was visiting the Ty Cobb "Only White Animals" zoo in 1910 when he drew a nude study of The Dave Clark Five on his sandwich wrapper. "It was almost as good as my Bo Donaldson sculpture and astounded my parents by it's detailed shadwoing on the bass player's nards," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still sucking down ketchup packets during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his removable shoulder blade.

   Used rubbers in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected odor of Weber's potato clock he made in third grade among the items in the "non-soiled" box. According to Tom Candiotti, retired Assistant to the powder boy of the Gold's Gym around the corner, Weber's on-the-spot public urination provided entertainment during certain pantsless luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor winners of the Lady Bing trophy and other important innovations in potato chip technology," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with the blunt end of a frozen snake: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a crappie (not the fish); Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Goode poked old rusty nails he found on the floor at paleontologists. But none of their so-called "towers of power" rivaled Weber's rubber scrotum. One question remains, however. When did he have time to "shake hands with Abraham Lincoln"?

   He showed signs of becoming an automoton at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a pungent artist would eventually span 32 minutes, was visiting the Bonnx zoo in 1910 when he drew a balloon on his sandwich wrapper. "It was rather odd and astounded my parents by it's radically political statement," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still drinking during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his otherwise large ass.

   Bunk in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected collection of Weber's teeth among the boxes of material. According to Pete, retired Assistant to the Crackwhores of America Foundation, Weber's on-the-spot vomitting provided entertainment during certain humdrum luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor Billy Beer and other important social movements," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with profanities: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a F!@&; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Adork poked his wang at paleontologists. But none of their jibes rivaled Weber's accomplishment. One question remains, however. When did he have time to pee?

   He showed signs of becoming an evangelist at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a con artist would eventually span 32 french school buses in one amazing feat of daredevil wizardry, was visiting the Pope when on of the Cardinals of Charleston sent him on a mission to save the souls of two chimps in the chicago zoo in 1910 when he drew a picture of four mexicans peeing down a well on his sandwich wrapper. "It was racist and astounded my parents by it's mean spirit," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still at the chicago zoo during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his balloon animals.

   Discarded yearbooks in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected tolerance by minorities of Weber's vulgar drawings and among the minorities attending Roosevelt High was a young Freddie Prince. According to Betty Curry, retired Assistant to the chairman of SKG, Weber's on-the-spot "doodlings" provided entertainment during certain and not so certain luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor phallics and other important props," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with jelly beans dipped in honey: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a pianist; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Socrazy poked these toys of affection at paleontologists. But none of their wives rivaled Weber's willingness to please. One question remains, however. When did he have time to father five chimps?

   He showed signs of becoming an albino traffic sign theif at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a skin mite in Nell Carter's hair weave, who's collection of memorobilia associated with the artist formerly known as the artist would eventually span 32 guitars shaped like female reproductive organs, was visiting the jacuzzi of e.e. cumming's chinese granddaughter lei sue zoo in 1910 when he drew a n amazing conclusion about the meaning of life: it was all a hilarious joke being played on his sandwich wrapper. "It was the final golden, shining truth mankind had been waiting for all these thousands of years and astounded my parents by it's unassailable logic," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still flopping around on the floor in his straightjacket during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his backwards cursing and his deft mastery of "the worm".

   Some examples of rather crude bathroom graffiti in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected wealth of Weber's faux-Confusian musings among the anatomically-incorrect sketches of naked teddy bears. According to Smelly Ted, retired Assistant to the old janitor, Goddamn That Funk Bill, Weber's on-the-spot naked breakdancing provided entertainment during certain funerals, wakes, baby showers and luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor love and cherish big-busted gals everywhere," says Dick, in reference to the huge flesh-colored domes erected on his lawn. "You're a pathetic letch who's development was arrested at the oral stage," says Jane. "Nonsense! I have the utmost regard for hooters, cha chas, chi chis, ta-tas, boobs, honkers, jigglers, brestisis, tits, gazzoombas, fun-bags, knockers, jugs, bra-busters, milk wagons, bosoms, butter basters, racks, ya yas, horny orbs and other important jiggly woman-things of high cultural importance and refinement," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with funny little caricatures of Dick's prudish wife at the wedding reception: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a bizarre threat on the life of Flipper; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Smithson poked one of the saline breast implants Dick passed out as coasters tauntingly at paleontologists. But none of their reception-ruining chauvinist hijinx rivaled Weber's hour-long humping of the couch. One question remains, however. When did he have time to sneak that thing into the back of his truck and disappear?

   He showed signs of becoming an incredible three-year-old at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a Walter A. Weber-impersonator and macaroni/construction paper artist would eventually span 32 bankruptcy filings, was visiting the monkey cages far too frequently at the San Diego zoo in 1910 when he drew a gun and shot a lunch-filcher, leaving blood and brain matter on his sandwich wrapper. "It was self-defense," he couldn't say without cracking up, "No, seriously, it was fun and astounded my parents by it's leaping out from behind the sofa and yelling 'Jenga!'," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still babbling gibberish about Jenga during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his own jumping out from behind sofas and yelling "Jenga!", to subsequent beatings.

   Rudy and Dave in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected coupling. But enough gossip. The length of Weber's dictionary is always good for an ice-breaker among the biggest geeks Mensa has to offer. According to the Accordions, the polka power-trio led by Rufus Ginty Jr., retired Assistant to the senior Rufus Ginty, Weber's on-the-spot scapegoat and accordionologist provided entertainment during certain one-man luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor Your Honor and other important guys named Dick," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with Dick's ballpoint: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a "2 Hot 2 Be 4gotten" scribbled by it; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Illin', noted rapper, talked about how he poked West Coast Smithsonian rappers fearlessly and made vicious "snaps" at paleontologists. But none of their horseshit rivaled Weber's own brand of fertilizer, Weberlizer. One question remains, however. When did he have time to sneak back into the costume and appear to haunt the beach, Scooby?

   He showed signs of becoming an arrogant, but quite fetching militant swami at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a scat artist would eventually span 32 buckets of pure masterpieces, was visiting the local highly exotic, or as some would say highly erotic, zoo in 1910 when he drew a sandwich wrapper on his sandwich wrapper. "It was so fucking brilliant, I shit my pants and astounded my parents by it's sheer balls," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still chronically masturbating during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his soft, purty hands.

   Degenerate crack whores in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected twist of Weber's preference among the recently departed. According to Rick James, retired Assistant to the funk, Weber's on-the-spot grabbing and salivating provided entertainment during certain bizarre luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor Rev. Al Sharpton and other important cans of condensed shit," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with hardly a second glance at the scantily clad aardvark: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a slow, satisfying lick; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Causehesthere poked stainless steel tongs at paleontologists. But none of their juju rivaled Weber's mojo. One question remains, however. When did he have time to try out all those cute outfits?

   He showed signs of becoming an airborn particle at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a pudding fingerpaint artist would eventually span 32 seconds into the first inning, was visiting the porcupine and scorpion petting zoo in 1910 when he drew a naked cariciture of Rush Limbaugh on his sandwich wrapper. "It was erotic yet somewhat religiously liberating and astounded my parents by it's graphic depictions of common breakfast pastries engaged in licivious acts," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still eating dinner for breakfast and breakfast during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his amazing talking nipples.

   A mass brush fire in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected deposit of of Weber's cremated remains among the burned debris. According to only recently uncovered markings on the Rosetta Stone, retired Assistant to the Blarney Stone which is a distant relative to the Kidney Stone, a close and personal friend of the Rolling Stones of which Kieth Richards is a member and soon to be dead as a stone, Weber's on-the-spot colostomy provided entertainment during certain alleged luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor the Sun God, Re and other important Egyptian Gods and Goddesses such as the Moon God, Gangrene, and the Water God, Herpes, and the Little Ham And Cheese on Cracker Served at Dinner Party God, Oscar Meyer, and so on," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with their own excrement. Then they signed them again with each other's excrement: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a highschoolish declaration of love- "Jacques and Mary 2-gether 4-ever"; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Hagendaz illegally poked lighthearted fun at paleontologists. But none of their flatulence rivaled Weber's non-withstanding addiction to pronographic cheese wedge films. One question remains, however. When did he have time to fill out this manifesto?

   He showed signs of becoming an asshole beyond all belief at the age of four. Walter A. Weber, who's career as a bullshit artist would eventually span 32 flavors, was visiting the Hanna Barbara zoo in 1910 when he drew a pistol on his sandwich wrapper. "It was an old-west sandwich wrapper and astounded my parents by it's quick draw," he recalled. Decades later Weber was still shooting sandwiches in the vending machine during lunchtime-and still astounding people with his complete and total lack of marksmanship.

   Smurfs in our Records Library collection reveal an unexpected 8mm reel of Weber's running amuck among the bewildered employees inside a sandwich factory. According to Squeegie Boy, retired Assistant to the King, Elvis himself, Weber's on-the-spot bowel movements provided entertainment during certain boring Grammy luncheons in the 1940's and '50s.

   "They were set up to honor Milli Vanilli and other important fleshy hand-puppets," says Dick. Some guests signed their names with an X, betraying the near-illiteracy rampant in the rock scene of the day: Jacques-Yves Cousteau's signature was accompanied by a impassioned plea for understanding of interspecies marriages; Smithsonian anthropologist Henry B. Goode poked pickles suggestively at paleontologists. But none of their pathetic white-boy attempts at "busting a move" rivaled Weber's "naked lobster dance". One question remains, however. When did he have time to clamp all of those lobsters to his genitalia?