Self, I says to myself, we need a fishin pole, some string, a bobber and some bait! Peace, quiet and serenity; yes sir, that's what we need. The pick three numbers are runnin crappy and we don't want to be malcontent. Now ifn we had the tackle on hand we could be ateasin the cats offn the riverbank and enjoyin the bliss of the chucklin river. Damned river carrys a tune worst than me and then it's downstream. For us, when the numbers of pick three don't run right well, it's time to change channels. There are times like this and it's a real morbid fantasy of what might be wrong--we knows one thing though--ain't gonna get rugburn of the brain over these indecent prevarications. Mama mighta raised a dummy but not a stupid that's for sure. I/we are sittin here atwiddlin our thumbs and athinkin at the same time about what this mess called pick three is up to. We feel, actually we know, that this game has a personality of its own. Once in a while it will get in a snit; kinda like, littlesister is going to "tell" on big brother or sister, just to have its own way. Bite me jerk, you don't know what orinary and pig headed is---yet! I'm just awarmin up to the task of strippin the bare essence off your mono-digital sticks and allowing you to meet your master, so enjoy it while you can you ill-conceived invective makers---Uncle Teufel is the Man! The Big Macroni!

Teufellj...don't have no emoticom of the little man flaggin his nose...sorry!