I've never so resented my inability to effectively express myself than when I see a girl to whom I might willingly -- AND WITH COURTSHIP AFORETHOUGHT -- devote all affectionetta, all appassionetta in pursuit of that everlasting connubial kinship and the consequential everlasting acquiescence of the larger portion of the bed quilt. "Appassionetta" is "Passion," but feeble in the arts of seduction, fumbling in the course of interrelated procreative parallel union activity. It is to the softer sex that I dedicate, that I consecrate, this approximation of a song. HOW THE HELL DO YOU PUT UP WITH US?
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