California stopped a $55 million mental health program for the homeless while maintaining a $45 million tax break that allows the buyers of yachts to avoid paying sales tax.
Can we, like, put the homeless on the yachts, maybe during the week?
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Wha happened?
The Yacht and What Happened - A Brief Morality Play
Rivington Willeford IV (to audience): I do so love time on my yacht. The old spirit of adventure from my Stanford days seems to well from within me and the sea salt is invigoration itself!
Once I was on my yacht being felated by two buxom co-eds when we passed through a school of flying fish, and the thwacks of the fish against our exposed buttocks and other flesh added an insane passion to our love-making which could only be described as maritime-frenzy fucking. The poor have their hovels for this kind of thing and
GAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!
(Rivington has just looked away and noticed the shadows who have slowly been gathering on the stage on his "yacht" since the second sentence. They look up, all of them have garish make-up and some are in black-face or have exaggerated "illegal alien" features. Some are in white face, like mimes, all of them are oozy)
Rivington (con'd): What are you doing here?
Willie: I'm shitting!!! And jumping up and down!
Sugar: And I'm a crack-whore sucking him off! We love your boat - ever since we were kicked out of the clinic we needed somewhere to go! I'll suck you off for five dollars?
Rivington: But...you're supposed to be on Third Street, or dead!
Cat Food: I think I made a wee on that stuff.
Rivington: My repast! My Dom! You pissed on my lobster and champagne! Police!
(Police arrive)
Rivington (continued) (pointing to homeless): These are terrorists!
(Police shoot the homeless. Rivington has servants clear bodies and replace his repast and champagne.)
Rivington (continued): So as I was saying...
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