Friday, November 11, 2005


I once knew a guy named Blott. A hot shot he was not. No one ever thought Blott would get what he got. Then one day Blott bought a pot. Paid for it with his last ten spot. Now his wealth was diddley-squat.

Why Blott bought the pot, he knew not. He thought and thought. What do I need with an empty pot? But maybe empty it was not. Blott took a look. A miracle had been wrought. There Jeannie lay on a cot, wearing a bikini and boy! was she hot!

"I've been waiting for you, my master, Rajah Hottintot, to give you all I've got." She waved a magic wand and do you know what? Jeannie's bikini was made of solid gold. She wore diamond bracelets and strings of pearls and her hair was made of platinum curls. She wore a ruby in her belly button and from her navel down she wore nuttin! Her bra fell off and Blott got hot and Jeannie was hot to trot.

They romanced all day and danced all night and went to Wall Street the very next day. They didn't buy, they didn't sell. They investigated, then incorporated and the rest is history. There's the unsolved mystery of where Blott got it, how'd he get it, You can bet it kept folks guessing. They slept in their pot at night and at daylight counted all their blessings.

But who would guess the IRS would ask Blott where he got it and when he could not explain it they took it all and wanted more. He told Jeannie and she got sore. She waved her wand and the pot was bare. She waved it again and bankruptcy panic filled the air. And Jeannie was no longer there.

Blott still had his pot. He slept in it a lot, but awoke alone. it seems, Blott also lost the Jeannie of his dreams.


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