I love poetry, and a glass of scotch, and, of course, my friend Baxter here.
Your not Ron.
Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, Gonna grab some afternoon delight, My motto's always been, "When it's right, it's right," Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night? When everything's a little clearer in the light of day And we know the night is always gonna be there anyway. Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite Looking forward to a little afternoon delight. Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite And the thought of lovin' you is getting so exciting. Sky rockets in flight. Afternoon delight. Afternoon delight.
Hmmm... Lets think about this... Anchorman, A 40 year old virgin, Tombstone, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Office Space, The Goonies, Old School, American Psycho...
Voilà ! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.