Oh, It's the Bob and Tom show.

Yeah, he comes over to the house in a three day beard.

Sleeps on the couch makes a three-day beard, sleeps on the couch, makes the place

smell weird. He's on something and it damn sure ain't a job. He scares the

kids, stays on the phone,'s got a car somewhere from me to Cosine On,

he's been disowned and his wife's run off with Bob.

She finally told him he wasn't worth the damn.

He tries to blame it all on Vietnam, but he wasn't there.

He was 15 and 74.

And he's had a bad back and a messy divorce.

He's got a workman's comp case tied up in court.

He can't move and I can damn sure vouch for that.

He's my brother-in-law. He's from Arkansas. Lord, the best man at my

wedding and the worst I ever saw. He's living all for me. He's the baby of the family. My wife won't let me shoot him because he's my brother in love.

Every day he smokes four packs of men thaws,

makes about eight more long distance calls,

snorts alcohol, and talks like dusty roads.

And he'll go through your wallet with a fine tooth comb

and eat your family out of house and home.

He'll cuss out your preacher and stop up your commone.

He's your brother-in-law.

He's got nothing on the ball.

...