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Change the Name of Arkansas "Mr. Speaker. Mr. Speaker: For the last half an hour, I've been trying to get the floor, and every time I catch your eye, you wiggle and squirm like a mangy dog with a flea in his ass. "Maybe you don't know who I am. I'm Senator Johnson from Johnson County, Arkansas, where we raise men who are men, and women who are glad of it. Why down in Johnson county a man can't even stick his ass out the window to take a good country shit without getting his tail filled with buckshot. Down in Johnson county we raise girls who, at the tender age of sixteen, can throw their left tit over their right shoulder and wipe their ass with the nipple thereof, or squirt milk up their asshole, as the occasion demands. When I was a boy at the age of 14, I had a prick the size of a roasting ear, the pride of Johnson County. Why I could piss halfway across the Ouachita River. (The Speaker: Out of order. Out of order.) You're Goddamned right it was out of order; if it hadn't been I could have pissed clear across the son-of-a bitch. "Now here is this narrow assed, long gutted, cross-eyed son of a cross between a Missouri mule and a gorilla, who proposes that the name of Arkansas be change to Ar-Kansas. Why, Mr. Speaker, to compare the fair state of Arkansas to that of Kansas is to compare the light of the noonday sun in all its brilliance to the feeble glow of a lightning bug's ass; or to compare the sweet fragrance of an American Beauty rose to the foul quintessence of a Mexican burro's fart. Why, to compare the great state of Arkansas to that of Kansas is to compare the puny penis of a Peruvian "Yes, gentlemen, you may pluck the tail feather of the American eagle. You may piss from the Washington monument. You may shit on the White House steps, and wipe your ass on the Declaration of Independence. Yes, you may even rape the Goddess of Liberty, but change the name of Arkansas, NO. Not only no, but hellfire and damnation, no!
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