BILLINGSGATE POST: When Elmer Smuckmeister heard that the Mayor of Beaver Crossing was making social distancing mandatory in this small farm town in Nebraska, the corners of his pie hole turned upwards.
Elmer was not fond of the usual courtesies shown by his neighbors. The last time he shook hands with anyone was the first time; and that was never.
He scowled at all forms of civility. When offered a friendly, “Howdy do, Elmer,” his answer was always the same.
“Mind your own f*cking business, asshole.”
Growing up, he was so ill-natured that his mom had to tie a porkchop around his neck so the family dog would play with him.
So when he read in the Beaver Crossing Gazette that Mayor Bloomstrom ordered all citizens to maintain a six-foot distance from each other, he wrote a letter to the editor complaining that it wasn’t far enough.
Slim: “Sum bitch should be tested for rabies.”
Dirty: “Yo, Dude. He’s meaner than a junkyard dog.”