
Basically, any prophet I've ever dealt with has either been busy 
hawking stolen merchandise or selling swampland house lots in 
Florida.  Then you hear all the stories of sexual abuse by prophets
and how the families of victims were paid to keep quiet about it.


Never mind that, but let me tell you about this Chevelle I bought 
from this dude (you guessed it, a prophet) named Mohammed.  I've
got the car for like two days when the tranny kicks, then Manny, 
my mechanic, tells me it was loaded with sawdust!  Take a guess
whether "Mohammed" was anywhere to be found.  I don't think so.


Oh, Mohammed!


Yeah, you, Mohammed!


You slimy mass of pond scum!


Yeah, right!  You're the one should be watching your butt.  You and
your buddy Allah.  The stereo he sold me croaked after two days.
Your ass is grass!

Jim