Oh, It's the Bob and Tom Show.

It's the Bob and Tom Show.

Ba-ba-da-ba. Baa-da-ba. Bapada baa baa baa bit do do

back in the da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da. Back in the not too distant past when I would need a quick repass or a temporary break from my agenda. Off to the bedroom I would head.

Pull out the playboy from beneath the bed.

And sneak a peek at all the portraits of pudenda.

My alternatives were slim.

If I try to find another source for sin,

I'd have to hang out with the losers in the back room of my local video store.

But last month I finally made the call.

I got a brand new cable modem installed and it opened up the floodgates on a whole new universe of internet

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Internet-born when you're given so much to choose from who has time to sleep. Honestly, honey, I don't know how the link got on there.

After my girlfriend goes to sleep, then I get out of bed and down the hall I creep so I can

hunker down and wallow in depravity until three or four you'll always find

me in that same tableau

silhouetted by my monitors warm glow and absorbing all the bounty from the

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...