Look out! (again) It’s the Big Honkin’ Pipe Police come to confiscate another wrench. Righty tighty. Lefty you’re a dead man.
Like some kind of crazy, mixed up duct blowing hot air onto all the world’s toupees. Is it drafty in here, or is it like this everywhere?
How the hell should I know? I’m just a big honkin’ pipe.
I move air — then my mouth yells at you and you feel warm.
Caboose noodles! They don’t serve those in first class where the vents are widest. I think it’s a tax thing. Only little air holes for the undercrust — it’s in the constitution. Hence the crackdown on big honkin’ pipes that hang above the ground, or below it.
