Happy Pigs and Butt Sex

The pressure pulsing my ears , the road winding between corduroy colored hills and low-shelved-cliffs. I'm eating a yeast-flavored roll we bought at at a food 4 less in redlands with other sundry food items on the last 28 dollars of my foodstamp card, state funded sandwiches for hikes in state parks a full government sponsorship program. I'm sitting on a Navajo blanket in the back of Jimi's Volkswagen Westphalia, the most German sounding automobile known to man, culture clash, plus I got a bag of canned refried beans I bought from a toothless white trash clerk at a food 4 Less in the REDLANDS, we're in the blender here all shook up on a jolted hi-way ride. What treaty was signed in Westphalia in the north Rhein valley? I forget. Was it something to do with Wurmms or Schnitzel? Veal, little calves slung like a ball and chain. Prop 2 passed here in California. No more chokin' chickens. No on 8. We want happy pigs and butt sex.