“It was getting all hot and sticky and cheesy under there, y’all, so I went and got it cut,” said testosterone deficient singer  Clay Aiken.  “Now you can see the head and I think it looks a little more proportionate.”

Clay Aiken was talking about his heavy, cable knit sweater and not his foreskin because as you all know, a lot of southern people are trashy and don’t know enough to get their kids circumsized.  Also a foreskin comes in handy when a tornado hits your trailer. 

 “One time my foreskin saved the head of my penis from a windblown piece of my baby sister,” claimed Aiken. “We simple folk like to hold onto what the good lord’s done gave us — plus I like docking with uncut poor white trash and other uncut folk.”

“I still got my foreskin and I ain’t partin with it,”  bragged Aiken.  “I just told ya  how much I like docking and stuff like that, but the sweater had to get cut. “

A local Rabbi, Manachem Silverman, performed the ritual but left the room a bit befuddled.

“I became a Rabbi so I didn’t have to go into the schmata business,” moaned Rabbi Silverman.  “Now this fagela calls me over for a bris and I’m back cutting fabric .  I ask you, do I look like a schmuck?”


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