Hooters Founder Dead at 68

Robert Brooks, the Founding Father of Hooters and inventor of the barbecued edible panty sandwich, passed away at the tender age of 68 after a long bout of acute mammary poisoning. The poor guy never even made it to 69.

His last words were, "Anything over a mouthful is wasted."


The funeral procession will start at the Hustler Gentleman’s Club on Twelfth Avenue and proceed down Forty-Second Street to JFK Airport, where the casket will be loaded onto the Hooters jet after a 21-gun salute of popping Baby Duck bottles shot off by an honor guard of The Flashdancer Precision Pole Dancing Team for its flight to America’s beer capital, Milwaukee.


There it will be laid to rest at The Hooter Memorial Park of Eternal Piece, next to the Perpetual Beer Fountain of the Overflowing Titties.


In honor of Mr. Brooks, whom he termed a “national treasure,” President Bushman requested the women of America to leave their bras home and wear their titties at half-mast.


The eulogy will be delivered by Bill Clinton, who famously named one of the bedrooms in the White House The Hooters Chapel. President Clinton has promised to campaign for a bust of Mr. Brooks to be engraved on Mt. Rushmore between Anna Nicole Smith and Chesty Morgan.


Mr. Clinton will recite a poem in Mr. Brooks’ honor composed by America’s Poet Laureate, 200motels.

This writer, using the Freedom of Information Act, was able to obtain an advance copy of the poem:


Beer in the morning is a beautiful thing
Your head might be in winter but your mouth is in spring
There’s nothing like beer to chase away the blues
After a couple of six packs you’ve got no mind to lose
The beer I have drunk is my best friend
We’ll be together until it pops out the other end
The wise men tell us you can’t buy beer just rent it
I wish I could be the guy who invent it
After thousands of years of research and struggle
The guy screamed “Eureka! I think it’s starting to bubble
“This beer’s gonna’ make me famous and rich
“But before that I'm gonna’ get drunk as a bitch!”
O Great God Budweiser please hear my plea
Let a Corona of Heinekin wash over me
On an island of pizza and fried onion rings
Make me a life raft of Buffalo wings
Deliver it all by a girl with big titties
And the finest big butt in all New York City
Send me some hot dogs and jalapeño poppers
And don’t forget the Big Macs and Burger King Whoppers
Budweiser Heineken Michelob too
I pledge my drunken soul to you
I don’t want no stinkin’ Mountain Dew
Just wash over me your golden shower
Let a thousand beer cans flower
Then I can belch around in perpetual motion
And fart through the sky like jet propulsion


Amen

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Posted on 7/17/2006 ( Permanent Link )
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