I  Ain't The Wind Beneath Your Wings

I am not your Cheeto, C h e e t o, or your sounding board. Nor am I a pastor taking your lying confession. I can't help that the average person, myself included, find you pathetic. Take off that bra and false eyelashes. You ain't Mother Teresa.  Unfortunately, there is nothing in the nursery to make your testicles grow back. Try Vigoro, a lawn fertilizer, but apply a tourniquet to your penis first. Oh! you have been there, done that? "Hail Mary, full of grace..." You finish it. I lost my place. How many hours a day do you spend cheating on your wife by spending it on the media, lying? OK! your wife is a mannequin. Does your health provider know this? I don't want to give you butt hurt, but an Indian Swami is not a psychiatrist.  I am not here to jump-start your Winnie Pooh bear, but I do have a couple of batteries. I am not your hero and I ain't the wind beneath your wings. I only passed a fart. Your time is up and The Big Guy has no time for fools.