Utah ain't all guns and roses like people think. In fact, I haven't seen hardly any roses at all.
But I got a feelin' if I did see some, they'd be scantily clad, (wink wink).
Seriously, Utah is going to helk in a handbasket. It's almost startling how the morals around here have slipped since I went to St. George last weekend. I shouldn't be surprised because when I left I noticed all the trees were beginning to blush.
And the Aspens--good golly, miss Molly--the Aspens aren't just quaking, they were shaking. Their groove thang. All over the place. In their shimmery gold-coin dresses.
Bling! Bling! Bling!
Have they no shame?
But now they're corrupting the rest of Happy Valley. Trees everywhere are undressing right before our very eyes. I have to wear a blindfold when I get the mail because some of them are stark raving naked.
And proud of it! They're displaying their goods like a bunch of happy hippies at Woodstock.
In Hawaii I had to deal with nude beaches. Now I have to deal with with nude forests?
No wonder Utah has the highest porn rate.
Now that I'm a grown up I finally get why they call it Fall, as in The Fall.