The Record
I'd love to spit some Beech-Nut in that dude's eyes
Hank Williams, Jr. - "A Country Boy Can Survive" - The Pressure Is On - 1981
In the 2024 re-reengagement, prompt replies were unexpected, especially after the steaming pile Princess Corn Log oh-so fittingly (LOLZ!) laid just over a year prior.
No way were The Sue Chef and Delightful Monster gonna reply - as seasoned scammers who have spent countless hours in courtrooms, they fly dark, period. Either Princess Corn Log or Neila's Bitch would take on mouthpiece duty, should it occur, but my entire team found such improbable.
Well, Langdon beat the odds just 6 minutes after receiving, and I'm both tickled and bummed to report he did it in decidedly Flozberk fashion:
Neila's Bitch
2024-01-13 10:26
"Love to spit some peachnut in that dude's eye" 1982
Dang! Homeboy done showed hisself to have some wit, borrowing from TheFlozberks.com proud tradition of quoting artistic works. I'd by lyin' if I said I didn't get a kick out of that. Here we see a flash of the LangLang of whom I was once rather fond.
However, there was a lotta Flozberk stank on that one, too. Let's have a look-see:
Ain't That a Peach 
First, we have "peachnut." What the fuck is that? The only thang I could think right off the bat was that it's ejaculate (n.). Male ejaculate (n.), perhaps. He wants to spit baby batter in my eye? Say what? Dang! Please don't!
A quick internet fingers meld cleared the air - it's "Beech-Nut," not "peachnut," and it's baby food, dumbass, not that, um, other stuff. Well, DUH!
Wait. Baby food? Huh??? No, no, no...the semen scenario damn near made more sense. WTF?
Then, repressed memories from my childhood NASCAR n' Richard Petty watchin' daze seeped into the ol' forebrain. It's chewin' tobaccer. Damn chewin' tobaccer is what it is. Beech-Nut chewin' tobaccer, assuming Bocephus ain't singin' 'bout spittin' baby food on someone. Just a painch buhtween yer chaeek and gum gives ya real tobaccer pleasure.....
Wait. No - that's that uhthuh stuff with thuh round cay-an and that pocket ring thang. Beech-Nut is that pouch of old-time leafy stuff and ya jam a big ol' gross-ass wad in yer piehole if'n yer not feeling sufficiently nauseous at the moment and/or wanna look like ya gots a periodontal abcess.
It's sort of like a salad. A brown, nicotine salad that lays a yuck smackdown on any situation it taints.
And a baby food company makes chewin' tobaccer? Jeeeez, say it ain't so! Nope. The two brands are unrelated despite being written identically. Hopefully no infants have been killed by redneck misunderstanding-related nicotine poisoning. "Pawpaw, why is my baby dead?!?!?"
OK, so that's straightened out. We're all very relieved. Behold thems funny parts:
Let's Go, Langdon 
In an insult to his country heritage, poor Langdon only made FOUR errors in attempting to convey that one term - the rurally iconic Beech-Nut. Were he in North Carolina, I think that would actually have been a crime.
The song in question was released in 1981, not 1982. The actual lyric is the doubly hostile "eyes," not "eye." Not only did he Floz that up, but also missed a nice chance to be doubly hostile.
And the next line in the track is, "And shoot him with my old .45." Just sayin' is all.
This is oh-so Flozberk. Even a brief, simple task that indeed ranks somewhere in excess of trivial emerges hostile and shabbily-executed on multiple levels. Go figure. Langdon is most definitely on The Flozberk Trolley. He has become what he feared about a decade ago. It's fascinating.
But Wait - There's MORE!
Our "song quotes header tradition" heavily leans on excellence. Langdon's offering is weak, ill-spirited, and lowbrow. I much prefer the elder Mr. Williams.
Tobacco and addiction wreaked havoc on us for decades and ruined the LONG "ends" of both Mom and Dad's lives while having me, who grew up in a cloud of smoke and became a smoker for 30 years, now square in its crosshairs despite quitting in 2014.
There is no shortage of nasty things in the world, but a couple things are on a short list that really stand out. One is Tiffany's corn log, and not just 'cuz it's a goddamn corn log (as if that's not enough), but the sheer length and girth of that monster was the stuff of legend.
The other is chewin' tobaccer. It's hard to imagine a more vile habit. In a way, even Ryan's smokin' crank an' shootin' smack look like tea and crumpets in comparison. But, in another way, not so much.
How utterly perfect that Langdon responded to my not-uncouth message with a hostile attempt at wit quoting junk music laden with sloppy errors, apex nasty, and a tip of the hat to the drug that destroyed decades of my people's lives.
I led with "Good morning. I hope this finds you and yours well;" he led with spat tobaccy juice to the eye (singlular). Jeeez! What a tool.
Neila's Bitch managed to haul in a trailer load of facepalmy FlozClod fucktard faceplant with but one brief text. That's no easy feat.I present to you Langdon "Neila's Bitch" Flozberk. He'll fit right in...until it gets old.
A Peachy Afterthought
Some may wonder why I thought "peachnut" was dude (or lady - they, too ejaculate!) juice. It's Cheech and Chong's fault - they mutated the word "peach" into a whole new thing back when I was a teen, and "nut" obviously has all sorts of crotch squirt connotations both as a noun and a verb.
"Cheech's Peach" became a running gag throughout my junior high and high school years. Hey, I was initially just as baffled then as you were reading this. Peachnut???
My reply to LangLang:
Me
2024-01-13 10:34
Peachnut? Always edit before sending, Hoss.
I've learned a lot about you in the last year. It would seem you're not nearly as nice a guy as I thought.
A City Pig Can't Survive
On January 29, 2024 at exactly 1109h, I sent the following text message to each of the four (perhaps) unincarcerated (perhaps) alive (perhaps) Flozz-o-nauts:
Me
2024-01-29 11:09
Good morning, (insert name of Flozz-duh-trician here)
As always, I hope this finds you and yours well.
Exactly 5 years ago to the minute, on 01/29/19 at 11:09h, I informed Princess Corn Log that poor Tasha's starkly overdue and compassionate canicide had come to pass, bringing Life v1.x to a close for me after just over 20,300 days and ending direct contact between me and Duh Flozwads for 4 years.
The 5th anniversary is wood. I choose to honor it by laying the wood, so to speak, unto the deserving with new content as we move toward launch. Much be afoot. Very much. Very afoot.
One could commemorate the occasion by revisiting Tasha's page:https://theflozberks.com/tasha.html
I intend to soon vigorously pursue a tolerable end to v2.x. May it proceed smoothly and promptly. Should it not, be prepared for an adventure standing much taller and spreading much wider than those that proceeded it. Much taller. Much wider.
For quite partial enlightenment on how such might unfold, refer to the “Battle Plan” essay found among new content here:
https://theflozberks.com/2024.html
For additional enlightenment, refer to this secret page, visible only to those given the link: https://xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxx/xxxxxxx.xxxx
Clumsy, cretinous replies remain quite appreciated.
Best,
Captain
A response is not expected.