But, then things started to fall apart. Mr. Bill’s message was clearly being compromised by the medium.
A drenched feminist named Cathy was incensed that Mr. Bill would lower himself and court the bimbo factor in the form of super models. “Where have the protest tactics of the sixties gone,” she wailed.
Mr. Bill sensed the discontent and refocused attention on his wetlands message. Grasping an “overdue” bill for $361,984,000 in his chubby, clubby white fingers, the Gumby-textured man attacked Shell.
“This does not include their abuses from the previous decades, nor the price tag for the damage, which would not have occurred during Katrina, if our natural hurricane defense, the wetlands, had not been decimated by the oil industry,” Mr. Bill said.
“OH NO, Fix the coast you broke, Shell Oil,” Mr. Bill cried, as he sauntered down Poydras, his arms draped low around the waist of a super model.
Whispered rumors followed Bill and his entourage. Perhaps Sluggo had compromised the PR team. It might be a right wing conspiracy after all.
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