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Everyone in this room has been associated with Whitey |
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either through basketball or the mall or various odd |
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jobs he does around town for free or at most a dollar |
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And I'm guessing 99% of you have either laughed in Whitey's |
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face or ruthlessly made fun of his feet or voice or sister |
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or shortness when he wasn't looking |
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But the next time you'd see him he'd still go out of his way to |
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smile and wave at you and ask you about your mother's |
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operation or something like that because he, unlike us, |
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actually cares about someone other than himself |
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The reason I bring this up to you is because I was the worst |
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offender of all |
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My life was simply going nowhere |
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Then a tiny little man rushed to my side |
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He should've gotten a big thank you |
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Instead he got a Porta-Potti ride |
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I was such a s***head |
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But he never quit on me |
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'Til I told him he was useless |
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And his sister was freaky |
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Once when we were watching Sunday football |
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A fuzzy screen was all that we could see |
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Whitey came over with a hanger |
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And spent the game atop our T.V. |
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And when the lightning struck him |
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He let out a wicked, loud yell |
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But we just turned up the volume |
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And ignored the burning smell |
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We should all rot in hell |
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I went to high school with Whitey |
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As a joke I told him to meet me at the prom |
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When he got there, I said: \"I can't believe you though I was |
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serious.\" |
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So he ran home crying and slow-danced with his Mom |
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What a crushing blow to Whitey |
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I bet you wish you could take it back |
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How could you all be so mean to Whitey? |
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Sounds to me like you are all on crack |
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Tonight Whitey was counting on this town to show that we care |
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But the first time he really needed us we weren't there |
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And on Christmas Eve and the last night of Chanukah |
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It's just not fair |
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(\"um, biddy, bum\" repeatedly) |