They call him The Chief around these parts, but he belongs to no tribe. He has no teepee, no trail of tears. He's a man of his own conviction, his own volition, contemplating, disseminating and even occasionally agitating the likes of Stokke, the occasional chokee, or even those who get down in a game of Hokey Pokey with jugs in your mugs and no hair you-know-where, while all the thugs and dem mugs take tugs at your derriere. Shit, they don't care, and neither does Ufford, he's much tougher, don't require no buffer, the man even serves as his own fluffer but now he's gone gone to the Caribbean like an amphibian; no time to stay or play he's got to…whoa, did I just throw in something about a fluffer?
Anyway, if Exhibit 2,391 That Punter Is A Little Fucked In The Head up there tells you anything, it's that Ufford is on sabbatical for the rest of the week. He's been wanting to take a Caribbean vacation for some time, but didn't feel the need to make a big deal out of going to Turks and Caicos while the rest of you assholes are shoveling snow off of your cars. So I'll be your substitute for the rest of the week. Kind of like Sweet n Low, without that whole cancer thing. — Monday Morning Punter