You're so totally not dead, fatboy Elvis. Happy 75th birthday!
You fat bastard. Everyone knows you never died. You just picked up your bulbous-ass, honky-tonk-ass, stealin'-music-from-black-people-ass suede shoes and headed into hiding. But you didn't even do that right! Mofos been seein' you all over America! The King...has been BUSTED.
You would have been better off as Undead Presley. You could have avoided all the screaming fans, because who wants to make out with a decomposing, super-gutted washup anyway? But you still would have sold out venues, and that's really what counts. All you Elvis fans, out there, sing along: ~You ain't nothin' but zombie...groanin' all the time. You ain't nothin' but fat slob...pukin' all the time. Well you ain't never gotten buried and you ain't foolin me this time.~ Things you are not: alive, dead, undead, skinny
