Flop floppity floppy doggie lips. Ears, loose skin... floppiness, all floppiness. This is the origin of banana cheese, the spray-on version of SatoriTM brand enlightenment. After accumulating the requisite number of incarnations, successfully navigating the Bardo states and transcending the bat shit crazy, you too can have this trans-bliss experience in the privacy of your own bathroom. In France, they do it standing in a motorboat.
Once having achieved the unachievable, the prospect is yanked into ritual frog marches, down down down with the doggie lips, all the way down.
“Yea, verily do I say unto you cretinous bastards, that access to the hidden temples of Gnoscher Mutt can only be attained through banana cheese”
At the bottom, refusal to comply with prophylactic recommendations can result in severe itchiness.
 Plots within plans, within schemes, within a Wrapper Class
C++ aficionados replete with texts under their hairy arms, met to play out an odd connection between burning an effigy in a giant owl and Dutch hospitality. Henry Kissinger, the former presidents Bush, and many other shady characters rekindled their old drug and drinking habits for three weeks under the name California Bohemian.