Original subtitles

Amen.

Thank you.

Oh, this is a wunderbar.

Fräulein Ruth.

If you would be so kind.

is the property of Radio Rio Dio, 100 ,000 watts of faith healing power. And

child authorized use may be punished by fine and incarceration.

Amen. Give me that old time religion.

Give me that old time religion.

Give me that old time religion.

It's real enough for me. Makes me love everybody.

Makes me love everybody.

Folks next door.

Walk down any street. Knock on any door. And who will you meet? Your neighbors.

That's what it's all about.

Friendly people. Getting to know one another.

Pulling together for the mutual good.

At work and at play, giving new meanings to the word democracy.

People like Mr.

Peterbilt. A man to the name born.

His obsession?

Garbage. His profession?

Sanitary engineer.

His avocation?

Fucking.

Lola Longusta.

Practitioner of the black sock.

Fount of drug -induced fantasies.

Lola Longusta.

Hotter than a Mexican's lunch.

Semper Fidelis. The door -to -door salesman. Out there on a shoeshine and a

customer. Bon vivant.

Raconteur. Connoisseur of baubles, bangles, and beads.

Lingerie's his game, plundering's his name.

A boudoir bandit, raiding the coffers of the absent husband as he draws a veil

of gossamer over the eyes of the bedazzled housewife.

Culture in small town is represented by the tempestuous Teuton, Martin Borman,

equally at home with the Grand and the Grey.

Both grungy laborers.

Bo Badger on the left, Tyrone on the thigh, clambering over the Grand Tetons

the Quattara Depression at his junkyard sal, slaving and slavering together for

the common good.

Their employer in leave, an Amazon, sucking dry the marrow of the laboring

class.

Lamar Shedd, true to his name, hoisting high his petard, always breaking rank to

fight another day.

And people like Plovilla Thatch, dental assistant, sexual surrogate, double

-gated paramedic, indispensable to the populace of small town.

The scatman, Zebulon, affable, well -meaning, man's best friend, seldom ever

Uncle Tom.

Lavonia, never a headache, ever girding her loins for low body blows, pubic to

pubic. wallowing in the empty saddles of small town.

Both dentist and marriage counselor, Dr. Asa Lavender, DDS.

Plating tartar, soothing flaming roots, cleaving together a house divided.

The callow youth threat, bumptuous teenager, potential decathlon champion,

qualifying in nine events but lacking in one.

Small town is like your town and my town, where Main Street still works. If

you're still searching for the American dream, then search no longer. It's right

here in Small Town, USA.

Behind every door, a story. Behind every story, a good woman. Like the

Bucksotic, you follow Ruth. Yes, that's another tale.

But not every story is so simple.

Yes, believe it or not, even in small -town USA, there are still people who

unfulfilled and unrelieved in the midst of plenty.

Ugh.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

Mmm.

And I was blind too, brothers and sisters. But now I see. And you'll see

light too on Rio Deo Radio.

100 ,000 watts of clear channel healing on the salvation of the Southwest.

Now for all you listeners who got your pencils ready during that last inspiring

hymn, here's the address for those blessed handkerchiefs I was telling you

about. First... Send a dollar, only one dollar, but no stamps or checks, please,

brothers and sisters, to Hankey, Rio Dio, Texas.

Care of your evangelist of the airwaves, sister, your follow -roop, bringing you

salvation and hope to all of you folks at home and those listening over the

radios of their pickup four -wheeler hardtop RV.

But now it's time again for our healing service.

You've heard of laying on of hands. You've heard of laying on of feet. Well,

I've got a simply wonderful piece of news for all you wonderful people today.

Rio Dio Radio has entered the born -again electronic age of healing.

The laying on of radio.

Now, I know there are people out there who aren't feeling just right tonight.

Maybe they can't quite put a finger on it, but gosh, they're... know

wrong. Maybe a joint that's stiff and sore.

Maybe nothing worse than a bad head cold. Or maybe you're among the

the laid up. Well, you're just the folks we're going to heal tonight.

You know, they say healing can take place in mysterious ways.

But the ways of the universe are strange, brothers and sisters.

So we're going to try something new tonight. We're going to heal.

Split it apart.

Just wonderfully? Why, it's almost enough to send shivers down your spine,

brothers and sisters, hearing such lovely music. And I also certainly hope

benefited from tonight's marvelous healing service. For no matter how much

punishment we may take, friends, no matter how tortured, how assaulted, how

pummeled our very innermost beings may become, no matter how much we may

in the darkness of the lonely night, there can come a healing hand.

All you need is a little rest, Lamar.

The dawn's early light comes to small town every day. And with it, the events

the night before are forgotten.

Private Enterprise, the cornerstone of small town.

Junkyard Sal helps architect the American dream.

The discards of progress.

Scrap iron into plowshares.

Plowshares into minutemen.

Yesterday's Pontiac becomes tomorrow's Polaris as small town arms the nation.

Industry on the march, from steam engines to steam irons, from bicycles to

bulldozers, and then on to the junk heap of history.

There are big jobs to be done in small town, and small town has the men to do

them. And there's no use lingering over bygones when it's off to work we go.

butter again, I hope.

Bye.

Salome.

Hey, Sal?

Sal?

Sorry I'm late. I'll put in some overtime tonight to make up for it.

It takes all kinds to work at Junkyard Sal's. Like Zebula, member of one of the

many minority groups in small town's bubbling melting pot.

One day, his dream is to own a junkyard of his own. Then there's Bo Badger and

his faithful sidekick, Tyrone.

Bo's a redneck, lean and mean.

Tyrone's a racist, crude, rude and tattooed.

Dropouts from the rat race of life.

Human flotsam.

Useless roadblocks in the avenue of progress.

Bitterly envious of the lower classes.

Rejected by the volunteer army.

Their choice in life is a sad but simple one. The drunk tank or the scrap heap.

But at Junkyard Sal's, they can find at last a useful purpose.

Because even they can be recycled to be made useful again in Sal's scheme of

things. No shit.

Junkyard cells, a microcosm of the industrial might that provides small

the nation with leisure time opportunities.

Leisure time to pursue the dream of every red -blooded girl in small town.

The assault and seduction of an innocent young stud.

And who is our Livonia to ignore an old adage? Let's see, something about the

devil finds work for idle hands?

Or something like that.

In the

words

of Livonia, give me the boy and I'll give you back the man.

But even with such an enthusiastic instructor, a young man's first lesson

human sexuality are often a matter of sink or swim.

Should he be plunged at once into the deepest waters of kernel knowledge, or

encouraged to splash about while building his courage in the shallows of

play? Livonia has an unusual approach, to say the least.

And so, in the murky waters of desire, first the unrestrained assault, then the

subtle seduction.

It's good to be a fast learner, but young men are too quick to learn.

But, in Livonia's judgment, It is far more fruitful to mother to nurture a

lad with encouragement on the sandbar of galleons just before unleashing the

wild ecstasies of the final examination.

Folks in small town play hard, and they work hard, too. They like to be doing

something hard all the time.

Come on, let me give you a hand.

Never send a man to do a woman's job. Now, stand back.

That's Junkyard Sal's motto, and she's backed it up with spectacular success in

the scrap iron industry.

Lamar, get your ass away from that car door!

As a scrap iron entrepreneur...

Opening new doors for women in all lines of work. Sal is a sexual pioneer. Way

out there in the front lines of women's liberation.

You really know how to handle this room. You seem kind of peaked today, Lamar.

You get enough rest last night? Had a great night's sleep. That Lamar's horny

young chick gets all the rest she needs. I bet so too, folks.

I'd sure like to give her a sleepless night. Yeah, a sleepless night.

What do you say, Lamar? Why don't you step over to the office?

Grab a little shut -eye.

It's got a nice big bed.

No, honestly, Sal, I feel neat.

Scared of the boss?

No, it's just that I got a lot on my mind with my correspondence school

and everything.

Correspondence school shit.

You said it's bullshit.

Just trying to improve a lot in life.

Make a little more money. Get an extra job at night.

Anytime you want to put a little overtime in, Lamar.

Yeah, sure, Sal.

I'll know where to go.

Meanwhile, back on the Pecos, in the school of bucolic dalliance, young Rhett

passes with flying colors and a B+. The satisfied and dedicated instructor,

Slavonia, has opened up broad new vistas of athletic endeavor for her gratified

student. What's your name?

My name's Rhett, ma 'am. Oh, what a nice name.

How old are you?

I'm 14, ma 'am. I never had a 14 -year -old joint. I mean, a boy named Rhett

before. Yeah.

Rhett's got a lot of size for his size.

Look at that kiss -ass Lamar.

Yeah, boy, kiss -ass.

Now, you stop criticizing Lamar that way.

Now, why does he have to go talking shit like that?

Shit like what?

Sticking up for Lamar when you know he's just the boss lady's new stud.

New stud, Jack. I'm not going to listen to that kind of talking anymore.

And besides, I've got my job to do. I don't see why Zeblin has to stand up for

that candy ass he calls a friend. Yeah, boss.

Candy ass friend. Now, I don't want to hear you talk about Lamar that way or

friend of mine. Zeblin, you're in such bad need of... Oh, I'm not going to talk

to you white trash anymore. Fuck yourself.

Oh, obscene rednecks.

Okay, guys, knock it

off before somebody gets hurt.

See you there, Tyrone.

Mrs. Evelyn had a lot of white blood.

Yeah, a lot of white blood.

The last stand of free enterprise, Semper Fidelis, door -to -door salesman.

While others risk coronaries behind their desks, he takes to the open road.

Fidelis is the most successful door -to -door salesman in small -town USA.

Maybe that's because he doesn't sell the same tired old items.

The greeting cards, toiletries, and vacuum cleaner brushes.

What bizarre lingerie by Frederico's of Wisconsin.

The famed establishment that has inflamed the fantasies of the middle

more than a generation.

And how convenient to make a selection right in the privacy of your own living

room.

Oh, good afternoon, ma 'am. I'd like to introduce myself to you. I'm Semper Fi

Dallas. And I'm from Federico. You know the lingerie firm? And we're introducing

our brand new spring line to a selected group of ladies like yourself. And I'm

sure I'll have something in here that you'll find particularly interesting,

particularly interesting for you.

The resistance.

A satin dress?

Rhinestone.

Pretty.

A beautiful wig.

Oh, a gold necklace.

A choker?

Spanish made simple?

I could do a little moon lighting in this outfit.

As sure as my mama need me simplified, Dallas, you're a...

wouldn't recognize you.

Oh, Lamar.

Lamar, shit.

Hey, amigo.

I'm an intercept to know what you have in that other box.

Oh, I don't believe madam would be interested in that case over there. Oh,

I would.

Well, the items in that case are for our mail customers. You mean faggots were

this?

Oh, I do have something I'd like to show you. Like what? A bus development

pumped by Frederico's of Wisconsin.

You just attach it to your kitchen faucet. Let me show you.

May I?

A bus developer for me?

Sexist asshole.

I meant no offense. Mr.

Fidelis, do you make them for men?

A bus developer for men? Not for their butts, dummy.

To make them larger.

Much better. What an intriguing idea.

I'll have to take that up with the home office and racing.

The bra is fine, the crotchless panties divine. I'm not wealthy or renowned, but

I get my share of pussy in this here town.

Garda belt's cute and rhymes with roots. And since I don't be fishing at hoes, I

can see how your affection grows.

When it comes to bodies, you're a star.

Thank God I got another pair of britches out in the car.

I know the horrors. Won't you take the credit card?

When it comes to family, I'm the man.

Let's work out an installment plan.

And you can

take that to the bank.

Straight home, Zebulon.

Uh -huh. You ain't going nowhere.

The boss ain't gonna want to see you.

I guess this means overtime.

Hardly the end of an eventful day for Lamar, but the busy worker is a happy

worker, and the happy worker has a busy boss, and the busy worker makes a happy

boss.

It's all well and good for Lamar to fuck his way through correspondence school

as long as he doesn't forget he's a rear window man.

Sometimes opportunity knocks but once. Something Junkyard Sal has made

abundantly clear. Lamar, honey, why don't y 'all come on inside? Take a load

your feet.

Uh... Uh, Sal?

I gotta be getting on home.

I'll see you tomorrow, okay?

And consider that Lamar's future hangs in the balance.

Fuck,

Sal. I only got one way to go.

One way at a time is enough for me.

Inside, Lamar.

Are you going to find your ass doing unemployment checks?

Motherfucker!

Come on, let's

watch. Yeah, Paul, let's watch.

Hi, bitch.

What to

do? I'll cooperate or lose my job.

Lamar has a simple choice.

Either he comes across in the sack or at goodbye correspondence school. But when

you're the boss, ladies, who's going to argue?

Men and music go together.

Get to work, Lamar.

Rio Dio Radio.

Salvation of the Southwest.

100 ,000 watts healing with faith.

Your salvation too, brothers and sisters, if you love solace and

That's right, friends.

And if you love one another, yes, this is sister, you follow Ruth.

This is our afternoon healing session, an afternoon of solace and succor. But

before we commence with it, I'd like to ask you this very personal question.

Have you received your Mount Rushmore and Holy Land sat in occasional pillows

yet? Folks from all over our 38th state listening area have been riding in with

me. Yes, I say.

orders for these lovely pillows they just can't get enough of them if you

haven't ordered yours listen to this description and see if you can resist

opportunity to own your own set of mount rushmore and holy land that's a

national pillow

Yes, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, and Aaron Burr gazed

out at you in the privacy of your own living room in vivid fire glow colors.

Dead Sea,

Noah's Ark, and the Wailing Wall, bringing the good book to life right

the money order and your name and address, but no stamps or presents.

Hello.

Rio Deal, Texas. And now, friends, yes, it's time for our afternoon healing

session. And as always, Radio Rio Deal's electronic miracle, the laying on of

radio. I warned you, Sal. I only got one word. And then we pray that what was

split asunder be made whole again.

That what was short be made long, and what was insatiable... Okay,

have it your way, Lamar.

This is my sisters and brothers.

If you have to call...

You've been asking for that, you envious son of a bitch.

Nephew, Tyrone!

What's your hurry, Tyrone? I'm not in a hurry. It's just getting late and I have

to be going.

Don't fuck around with me. I don't like it.

And that goes for you too, Lamar, until you see it my way. I can't stand a man

who won't look a good fuck in the eye.

And so, dear friends, if you've got your afflicted part on the radio, together

with your holy rush for that pillow, join me now.

must keep asking himself why he's burdened with this cross to bear.

And days like today add insult to injury to a man like Shed who asks little more

from life than a correspondent's school diploma and canubial bliss with a

pneumatic lavonia.

Small wonder, then, that Lamar joins Small Town and the nation in

thank God it's Friday.

Show business.

There's no business like it, not even in easygoing small town. And the local

superstar is Lola Langusta, the hottest tamale south of the Rio Grande. Her

maddening body beating out a tattoo on the libido of her sweaty audience.

Lola Langusta, a gringo audience pleaser. Numero uno.

Yes, sir.

Number one, as they say, down Mexico way.

Well, Lamar is a few minutes late.

Instead of heading straight home to the bosom of his family, small town's all

-American working man can't resist a refreshing pause in a long, cool, tall

But why this place of all the watering holes in town?

Fate? Or have the rigors of the day turned Lamar on to the intrigue that

within?

I'd like some beer.

That Lola Langusta looks like one pretty familiar tamale.

As a matter of fact, she's a dead ringer for Lavonia, Lamar's old lady.

Well, let me see.

That'll be two bucks.

Maybe the hair is a little different, but you'll see that's Livonia herself

under all that war paint.

If you just search your memory a little, maybe you'll remember that she ran into

a Frederico's of Wisconsin lingerie drummer, Semper Fidelis, who planted a

in Livonia's mind.

An idea.

A way to maybe get around Lamar's bizarre sexual leanings and set him back

the straight and narrow again.

All it would take, Livonia figured, would be a clever disguise and some

disarming Mexican lingo sexy enough to turn Lamar around.

But even so, wouldn't you think a guy would recognize his own old lady, even

a wig?

I guess what you gotta keep in mind here is that we're dealing with a guy who

only has an IQ of about 37.

Well, that's one way of getting someone's attention.

Even a guy who's not exactly playing with a full deck.

Looks like there's a Michael Finn in the house.

That lozenge would stop Godzilla's clock.

Thank you, ma 'am.

Really, Lamar, I'm scared.

It's a good thing Lamar didn't finish his beer. And now Livonia... I mean Lola

Langusta will attempt what is impossible for anyone except she who is the

hottest tamale both sides of the Rio Grande.

Yes, to inspire an erection in a man drugged into unconsciousness by

and manipulating his dick to every possible degree.

Her mission? To free Lamar from beneath the valley so that even he will be

capable of looking a good fuck straight in the eye.

There are many ways of tackling a problem, but a good therapist will begin

dealing with basics.

¿Eres hombre?

¿Eres medio hombre?

Lola te va a hacer todo.

Resolute, undaunted, Lola must dip more deeply into her reservoir of carnal

magic.

In Lola's own word, the black sock never fails.

She begins by deftly threading Lamar's limber burrito into it.

In no time at all, Lola Langusta's efforts will pay off.

Shifting gears to the old broom handle, boy.

The maximum result is almost instantaneous.

All that remains is the ultimate test.

Lola celebrates the excellent results of her ministrations using Lamar's inert

body beneath her as a living dildo.

You can readily see that Lola's thing boils down to good straight sex and no

funny stuff.

A silent willing man is a good willing man.

To dry out an alcoholic requires more than conversation, and to turn around

Lamar's rear window...

Lola's got to get rid of Lamar pronto if the healing therapy is to continue. And

the classic threat of a returning husband, certainly under the

a sure bet to get the show on the road.

Even though Lola's lingo is still Latin, she dishes up a pretty fair picture of

her freaked out old man.

Seven feet tall and meaner than a junkyard dog with a pig sticker twice

of the one she's wielding. And the gilded lily, a stated backup of six

bloodthirsty, gringo -hating vaqueros. Mexican cowboys to you.

Well, Lola, let's call her by her real name.

Lavonia's dynamic persuasion penetrates Lamar's zonked gourd, setting his ass in

gear.

and ignore the quantum leap that could make medical history, Lamar did fuck

straight, even though unconscious and protected by a long black nylon sock.

But, and this is important, he still has yet to look a good fuck straight in the

eye.

You ever have one of those days when nothing seemed to go right?

Well, let's see what Lola, I mean, Lavonia, is up to.

Thank you.

Got your hat, ma 'am.

Thanks.

Thanks very much.

Confused? There's no need to be.

This is really a very simple story.

Break a break. Witness the salad bowl.

Come on over, Mr. Peterbilt, and I'll eat your lunch.

Tenfold.

Three o 'clock. Almost two hours till quitting time in small town USA.

But some folks are never ready to quit.

Gladly do they teach and gladly do they learn.

This morning, Livonia held summer school with young Rhett. Now she's doing

postgraduate work with the industrious Mr.

Peterbilt.

Huh. Why does she look at the clock so intently? Well, I expect it'll take

quite some time to get those blown tires changed.

Uh -oh.

Sooner than I thought.

Well, this ought to be interesting.

I got a week's load of salad parked out back there on flies.

Besides, Peterbilt's all talk and Livonia's got his number.

Could it be that there's more here than meets the eye?

You only thought I was doing something bad, Lamar, that you saw me being

unfaithful. That settles it, Livonia.

We've got to have help.

Professional help. We're going to save this relationship. Save their

relationship?

Well, maybe a means to an end. There's no question in my mind, Livonia. The

man who can solve my problem is Dr. Asa Lavender.

For years, he's been Small Town's friendly next -door dentist and part

marriage counselor.

Uh -oh, here they come.

Well, as I was saying, even in peaceful Small Town, there's not much Dr.

Lavender hasn't seen or done.

But this is a case for the record books. A handsome young man with a beautiful

woman, and he can only satisfy his needs by... Well, you know, Lamar's problem.

Livonia's problem, if we can call it a problem, is far less complicated. She

suffers from enthusiasm.

Well, anyway, it's a case for individual therapy as we leave Livonia and Lamar

to the tender mercies of Dr. Lavender and Nurse Flovilla Thanch.

Well, and what is your problem today? I can only get it off when I'm rimming

Livonia.

All the... Yeah, and it's a real pain in the ass. Yes, I understand.

Oh, yes, of course. Well, the problem is really Lamar. I've only come to have my

teeth cleaned.

Teeth cleaned, yeah.

Well, I see. First things first.

You come with me, my dear.

Well, Nurse Thatch gives a... Nurse Thatch gives a

preliminary diagnosis of the man.

Gorgeous looking couple.

Oh, ma 'am, that could lead to a whole pack of trouble.

What you want to go messing with my problem for?

Don't you know what they say about pouring more oil on the...

See, I have a real big problem.

You just let me down, and I'm always paying.

My temper went...

Yes. Holy

fuck!

Oh, shit!

Pass it! Pass it! Hey, what's happening?

It's nothing your old man can't handle.

Oh, that'd get old quick.

Mm -hmm.

Get out of my closet, you bitch.

Oh!

Pussycat.

Pussycat.

Meow.

We're going to have a good time.

Let's see.

Pussy.

17 inches divided by 2 is... Pussycat.

Pussycat.

Pussy.

Cunt.

Do you

hear me, Lamarford?

I'm speaking to you, slut.

This is your last chance.

Lamar, your queen is speaking to you. Do you hear me?

Lamar?

give malpractice a clean bill of health.

And as for Lamar, I'd say he's just about at the end of his rope. He's

his options by barking up the wrong tree.

Either he gets his own ass in gear or it's goodbye Livonia and all that fun

loving.

Pity.

If a car is ever going to find deliverance, you'll have to shoot the

someone else's canoe.

You're tuned to Rio Deo Radio, Heaven's Top 40, where for one week only we're

offering our genuine plastic illuminated water ball for only $9 .98.

That's right, $9 .98 postage and handling included.

Gosh, neighbors, you'll want to appreciate this work of art in your own

It looks like a real waterfall.

Reminds me of my wonderful trip to Tijuana.

I mean, Niagara.

And yet, unlike a real waterfall, it will never disappoint you by running

It's made of durable, industrial -strength plastic designed to keep

in and day out, month after month, year after year.

Batteries not included. Just said $9 .98, but no stamps. Please, brothers and

sisters, to Waterfall, Rio Deo, Texas, care of Sister Yafala Rue, the top 40

faith healer in Salvatore of the Southwest, saying, think about this

Have you considered trading in self -abuse for self -realization?

Yes, self -realization through the liquid of life which gave birth to a

the little birdies and the little fishies.

Water cleansing the body, the soul, the extremities.

Immersion is the only answer.

Water to nurture, to succor, to inundate, to cleanse.

Golly, it's a beautiful notion.

And by gosh, brothers and sisters, the very thought just makes...

Never bother you again.

That's right. Twelve cells for extra power.

You never know when the emergency will come up. And two cells just won't do.

Two cells is fine for the little jobs. But for the big jobs, you need a big,

handsome flashlight.

Twelve.

flashlight.

Longer last.

It won't go off. I mean, it won't go out when you need it most.

And now, today's laying on a radio healing service will come in an hour.

first, this interlude.

Yes, dear friends, and you are dear to me, each and every single one of you. I

can't tell you how much. And that,

technical difficulties beyond our desire.

I want to be solace than succor.

Let me slip into

something more devout.

Please, oh, we're caught.

Brothers and sisters, we now interrupt this program. Radio Rio Dio in Rio Dio,

Texas. 100 ,000 watts of faith -healing power brings you, for the first time,

live from our studio, an on -the -spot coverage of an actual solace and sucker

service by your own sister, you follow Roof, who will heal a young man whose

name is being withheld pending notification of next of kin.

Now we take you live to Studio A. Sister Roof, Cinder X, and the Double Joy.

That is...

You have just shared, yes, a live broadcast of an actual on -the -spot

and succor service by the Salvatore of the Southwest.

And now, sister, you follow Root's closing thoughts.

Brothers and sisters, if you're not saved, do what I did and save yourself.

And now, brothers and sisters, while Sister Root realigns her spheres of

spiritual trust, a selection of stirring hymns and martial arts is prepared and

gifted to us by our sister station.

go to salad bowl. We still got a shit pot full of leave -in, boy. If you don't

haul it off, the possums will. Get your ass in gear. In, boy.

Perhaps

a

sociologist could explain why Livonia risks her ideal relationship, her

prospects for a rosy future, All for an adulterous liaison with small town's

garbage zone. One more time, Peterbilt.

One more time.

Oh, I got a split.

Besides, your old man...

Is Livonia once again taking Mr.

Peterbilt to bed?

Curious. Oh!

Flip me over!

Now! Now!

Flip me!

I'm Wolf Livonia.

I'm as weak as a muley cat.

Come on, Mr. Peterbilt.

we've been too hard on Livonia.

Surely it isn't carnal desire that drives her on. Even Mr. Peterbilt's

homebreaker isn't worth a broken home.

Mrs.

Peterbilt here. You're two hours late for my oil change. If you're not...

epoch in the annals of radio broadcasting.

Yes, for the second time today, Sister Euphala Roop will bestow an abundance of

solace and succor upon a young sinner.

Hallelujah, brothers and sisters!

in small town, but that's just to keep things from getting too darn peaceful.

And if they don't get what they want the first time around, well, there's always

tomorrow.

In addition to the championship, there's always more than one ball game at the

end of the season.

and maybe even take some postgraduate work. Then again, maybe he'll never get

back to hitting the books.

What you gonna give me for my birthday?

You're getting it right now!

She's like old times!

But only on your birthday!

Anyway, if you should ever find yourself down in this neck of the woods again,

you'll be sure to pay us a visit.

To small town, cradle to the nation.

You know

my 14 -year -old son, Rhett, but I don't believe

you've met my Austrian wife, Super Soul.

Say hello, family, to the folks out there in movie land.

Hi. Now,

son, if you plan to be around to see your 15th birthday...

You better pull out that thing you call a dick and let your father show you how

it's done.

And what was insatiable, satiated.

The young punk with a big future. But frankly, he doesn't give a damn.

Or the Dame Lola Langusta.

Mexico's own Susan P. Anthony.

Too bad those tits haven't been commemorated on a two -peso note of her

And that Palooka Peterbilt, 86 with his own club.

Lovilla Thatch.

Yeah, she knew all the answers.

Now she's a very practical nurse.

And Zebulon proved the American way is the only way.

Now it's nothing less than hot... Hollywood for him or the Austrian wife's

soul milking young elks at will.

You follow Rube.

Solace and succor for the masses.

Her coffers bulging. And tax exempt, of course.

Ace of lavender. He's blown his cover, but he'll turn up like maybe a doctor,

lawyer, or an Indian chief.

Even a school teacher.

Lavonia. What can I say?

A pulverizing crucible of fulfillment.

If her brand of adultery could be bottled and pushed by the colonel, she'd

the town.

Then there's Lamar.

He found that something as precious as love brings with it a demand for an

occasional change of pace.

Kitten natividad, a Latin brunhilde.

All the laurel eyes rolled into one. But take it from me, that's another tale.

Paris Creations, direct from Paraguay.

Semper Fidelis, his pneumatic crotch shoring up the beaver dams of small

Junkyard Sal, a full day's pay for an honest day's work.

And never a charge for overtime.

Oh, I, uh, I forgot. Borman. How thoughtless of me.

Marty, he's finally found peace in his beloved desert.

never found him. Here he is.

Alive and well, sweetheart.

Living proof that gentle will all your steps be as you venture beneath the

valley of the ultra -vixens.

Oh, it's so much better without your teeth.

Be sure to watch for the

further adventures of the bountiful Livonia, challenging a whole new...

bosom buddies for horizontal honors.

In Russ Myers, the jaws are vixen.

She'll never let go.