------------------------------------------------------------
Yes,
Nothing like a somegood poem writing to brighten my day. Sorry,
Lingam but everybody is gonna die.
I keep having poem in my head that which was in my head a few years
ago: It goes like this: "The singing fist of sri lanker".
What is this singing fist of sri rancor?
A loose noose infact.
Infant.
So Bjorn is a situationist. I wonder....
Asger Bjorn?
Guy DeBjorn?
Let's hope he groes up from the toes.
------------------------------------------------------------
I AM THE PENGUIN
I AM THE PENGUIN
I AM THE PENGUIN
YOU ARE NOT THE PENGUIN,
BUT RATHER A WALLABY,
WALLABY-BUH-LOO
LOKENSPHERIA, RESPLENDENT TO MY TROBLEMS, WHY!
FANTASYS ARE MY WAY OF
THIS WAS
I COULD REALLY ----- A BLANK BLANK
thank you for my poem
------------------------------------------------------------
(3) The Plummeting Old Women
A certain old woman, out of excessive curiosity, fell out of a window, plummeted to the ground, and was smashed to pieces.
Another old woman leaned out of the window and began looking at the remains of the first one, but she also, out of excessive curiosity, fell out of the window, plummeted to the ground and was smashed to pieces.
Then a third old woman plummeted from the window, then a fourth, then a fifth.
By the time a sixth old woman had plummeted down, I was fed up watching them, and went off to Mal'tsevisky Market where, it was said, a knitted shawl had been given to a certain blind man.
------------------------------------------------------------
While it appears that North Korea may indeed have The Bomb, it remains unclear whether they have The Food.
------------------------------------------------------------
Don't worry, it's probably just a bootleg bomb that won't work anyway.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello boys,
It seems dorothy, from "The Legling Princess" has cast herself in her own raunchy and senseless film again. Few conditions are characterized by the difficulty encountered in trying to depict her idea, but such is the case in restless legs syndrome.
In the mid-1940s film, Dutch neurologist Diaphanous Grodin described a disorder characterized by sensory symptoms and motor disturbance of the limbs, manly during rest.
Patients report sensations that are not painfully bothersome and can lead to significant physical and emotional sanctions. Once correctly diagnosed, Charles Grodin syndrome can usually be effectively treated. This one is called something like, "Swim in Gristle" and its about a slow-learning man, posing as a windmill (and other wind-driven items) in a small dutch town (Restbrach Legg) at the end of the Spanish Civil War (the war that changed our concept of "Weltschmerz", and energy). Its actually a funny little film, packed with typical Dutch tongue in cheek flagrancies, masked by the fact that they are undercover, or hard to see. I give it a 3 and 1/2, on the basis that I have seen this kind of film before, and, made much better films myself.
In other news, Charles Grodin, who until last Spetember had a lopped off leg, has come up with a brilliant new idea! Show the leg lopped movie! I saw this one at Cannes, and the whole theatre was spun to a 34 degree angle from laughter. Grodin said something like, _"I wonder how many times people will use the bathrrom after the first knife wound starts to chisel the lefg?", and then trotted off with his new wife, Jane Schlefler.
See ayou ay at the movies!
ps Please check out Grdoins new website: http://www.gimpix.com
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
It`s a sad day for Mr Turner. Part 3 in a 6 part series.
by Rev. Dr. J. Hausenschferer, Master of Illinois
Olafsburg, Asyria - Both collegiate pundits and semi-employed swashbucklers were drawn aghast today at the central municipalities declaration of the Turner family estate as treasonous and underwhelmingly symbolic. The action comes after weeks of speculative misnomers and calculations by the support administrators and corroborating investigative staff infections.
Mr Turner, sole victim and benefactor of the declaration, held a press conference from his own mangy buttocks earlier this morning.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we live in extraordinary times, and with those times comes great responsibility. Gone are the languished crosshairs of the pig-feasting mulchers and herbie beuregard. In comes the era of technologically savvy canteens, and spiced buggy-whips. While it is unfortunate that I was economically castrated for the premise of extending this so called religion, I think overall it ushers in an eon of new thought and protracted bowel movements."
Unfortunately, not everyone shares Mr Turners candor.
"He thinks he will persih, but really, he is simply undermining our collective drawbridge," remarked one native who didnt speak english, "its terrible the way he has seized on to what little groin he has left in an effort to retrench my barnacle." Further comments were incomprehensible.
Is this the end of the great Turner family legacy, or merely a speed bump in the carnival of life? Rather, the circumstances today raise a host of moral and ethical questions unanswerable to the common man: should people be allowed to work for justice? If there are no trees in the woods, what do the beavers eat? Should a national budget include foolish expenditures, or simply be black budgeted for the good of public awareness? Truly it will be several DNA tests until we even know which way to go.
This has been part 3 of a 6 part commentary, part four will explore the sentiments shared between hammerhead sharks and wretchedly depraved milk-duds. Join us on a passport to adventure.
Rev. Dr. J. Hausenschferer is a syndicated columnist of this newspaper, their credits include 2 minor motion picture scripts (untyped), a credit card company, and a jar of capers. They received their Master of Illinois from Sparky, a hermaphroditic cocker-lobster.
------------------------------------------------------------
Jesus,
Only the biggest heartflob in the weorld. Its like a meow turned backwards and inside on itseklf, skinning itself alive and then eating its own self, wings, hivewarmers, and all!
I slurped and came up with an idea for a new straw that works by burning corn in a silo outside of Washington DC. The details will remain details until everyone is aware of how well this plan was recieved by the press! It was good, and fun!
I have also found the encryption text that should link the film "Investigator" to the recent stabbing in "Frankenstein Village", off route 95 in Rhode Island. The gorses lick their sides and like it. My friend got a new down coart but she became bulbous.
Jesus,
I have no mopre characters to satisfy the stingin bite of the Liam machinehand.
Lord, come down off that cross and slab a big goofball with mint blobby!
Oh, Jesus, Ie, no! Ie, Ive got more time to do my duty and fleeting flashers run all over my waistband. But they are small,
and we will all survive, my friends,
V
------------------------------------------------------------
My Turner ---- can I tell you a few more details of the crime?
When you get to the collective drawbridge you will find this
inscription on the Turner monument:
Hausenschferer Turner: the Apostle of Arsenic in the Dumplings.
Actually, can I tell you? Arsenic was kept in a drawer in two wrappers,
with the words "Amadeus, deadly poison," written upon them. Any persona
might have access to the drawer.
Maggorot Turner said when she arrived at the house she found her
husband, son and Falco extremely ill. The prisoner of Falco was also
ill and vomiting from the necks.
Q. Did you say anything to her while you were there that day respecting
the dumplings?
A. I exclaimed to her: "Oh, these devilish dumplings!" supposing they
had done the mischief. She said: "Not the dumplings, but the fateful
words --- Rock me Anapernicus!." I asked her: "What rock?" She said:
"The halfpennyworth of rock that Sally fetched to make the wretchedly
depraved milk-duds."
Q. Did she say who had made the wretchedly depraved milk-duds?
A. My daughter. I said: "That cannot be, it could not be the lobster."
She said: Yes, Gadsdenite ate a very little bit of lobster dumplings,
not bigger than a nut, but licked up three parts of a boat of sauce
with a bit of bread."
Q. (To Mrs Turner, jun.): Was any wretchedly depraved milk-dud made
with the lobster that Falco fetched?
A. It was. I mixed it, and left it to ROCK!
Robert Gregson Turner was here tail-spawned.
Q. Did you partake of the dumplings at dinner?
A. Yes, I did.
Q. Did you eat any of the wretchedly depraved milk-duds?
A. My neck!! aaaGhKK!!!
Q. Should people be allowed to work for justice?
A. Not any portion of that whatever.
Q. Were you taken ill, sir?
A. Soon after dinner I was, sir. I first felt an inclination to be
sick: I then felt a strong heat across my chest. I was a
technologically savvy canteen for 6 minutes.
Just because no one has heard your remarks before, or the information
has not come unto the public domain, do not falter. Be prepared to
accept the abuse and nasty remarks that inevitably will come your way.
Hausenschferer, Gadsonite and Maggorot Turner. How many Turners today
believe they have to defend the Truth? Are we one of those?
Thanks again!!!
P.W. Turner
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello there!
Well, here I am again, back from the sturgeonic depths of my illness. The one keeping my Denzil Washiongton pants alive in the sub-terraneous, heating unit under the floor of my shower. Lift the cover, walk down the satiars, put on the gangrenous pants, and then find yourself recreating the energy policies of the first Bush generation, conceptually superior, intellectaully magnetic, or even flustered by the negotations between you and your Shactcho!
D pants have the capacity to elongate on the bottom of legs, when the hoof tries to escape the pants. Dont wear panties when doing this because theres an erotic little dance number it wiull take you on. Goes something like this:
Dancer one (I have Liam in mind but Charles would be great):
"Tastes like tuna!"
Dancer 2: "Yoshi can eat the Dolphins in the Japanese version, but not in the English mind. This was probably changed to prevent possible frustration caused by eating too many of the Dolphins, who are used as stepping stones to help you cross over a few vast expanses of water."
Then we all come out on stage, regurgitating dolphin parts in protest while interpreting the audience responses as experimental music...moving as we see fit to reply to the distress, happiness, gushiness, or anger of the audience. We will be mirrors, and I will wear my Denzel pants, so dont even ask.
See you at rehearsal,
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Fellas,
The word of the day is 'black rafter'.
OK, now, after reading about baby care I was concernded and a little
bit cornered i must admit. Though still impresssed!!!
Hmmm... All things told, the baby seems rugged enough to provide
reliable transportation in pedestrian environments ranging from rural
trails to the sidewalks of a congested city!
And well, guys, utility aside, it's worth stating that the element of
baby-assisted balance is a continuous delight today. I simply have more
control over your movements than we previously could have imagined
possible. This was particularly true on downhill rides, where our baby
language had a degree of command over gravity so unusual that it
produced a dreamy, floating feeling!
I know you're thinking ---- yeah!! this will solve ALL my problems....
Uh, no. The baby is not a medical device, guys --- if you can't easily
stand upright or endure some jostling on varied terrain, it will not
solve these problems for you. But while the baby cannot provide balance
that you don't already have, its responsiveness brings a subtle beauty
to the your movements.
From Cal
p.s. Right now I'm watching some very experienced babies start, stop,
swoop, and turn as gracefully as figure skaters. In fact, the baby's
ease of use could create some overconfidence. The baby has not
suspended the laws of physics--its wheels need traction.
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Cal,
Let me just tell you: Other peoples devils are said to perform a
shimmering
dance when food is seen arriving.
Your baby may be cross-eyed, but hes not stupid. Good food is
necessary.
Look for the small frozen packs that have been Gamma Radiated, these
should
be free of all bacteria. If you feel brave try holding the cockle
just out
of the water, your baby may try and take it from your finger. The
baby can
tell the difference between cockle and finger, it will probably just
want
the cockle to eat if it has tried them before. Try it and see! I put
frozen
cockles into hot water straight out of the freezer to thaw.
Do try not to feed too many cockles to your baby as they do have a
high salt
content. I limit mine to 8-10 per week or 2-3 a night.
On the other hand, Remi looks really good out of water. I must
admit that
your friend Garthe is a bit self-improved, like a handlebar mustache
ina
toaster. He looks real good!
Your baby may swim close to the surface at feeding time with his
body
cantered downwards and the head up. He makes gentles swishes with
his arms,
I think that there is a smiley type of expression on the face. When
we see
this activity the baby will normally eat ok.
There are periods when the baby just refuses to eat at all, we
normally
leave the pellets in the water for a good time in case the baby
reconsiders.
We count them out later.
Our baby more recently has become ever more fussy at feeding time, he
is
been nibbled by either my wife or sometimes my daughter. He will just
refuse
to feed occasionally just swimming away looking annoyed instead -
later in
the evening all will be fine in his world he gives the feeding signs
again
and will eat heartily as if nothing happened in his tank! My wife
feels
that her blue dressing gown is so familiar to the baby that he will
act
differently if she or my daughter are wearing it, it does seem so to
watch!
Good luck with yours.
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
I can't believe this.
Nice party.
I have to say, this time I'm REALLY sorry.
Yes, I know, first this, then your impassioned speech about how use
of
the word "titties" is never funny was (yet again) drowned out by the
shrieks of laughter at the word "titties."
Well, it seems the danger is over for now, but something tells me
that
we haven't seen the last of that dastardly villain. Anyways, I'm off
to
decorate my hand to look like a turkey with the markers, paper, and
sticky-tape. Gobble-gobble!
Love Titty.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello guys,
The trip, along with its accompanying "Wine of Slender Leg" was
absolutely
enjoyable!
One day we went and stuck our feet in the Sumida river. It was
pleasantly
warm. As we walked in the surf, I saw a Sand Shark kind of
floating
in the
shallow water. As he washed ashore, someone came over picked him
up
and
threw him back in. He swam away. Guess they aren't dangerous,
but
it sure
gets you to thinking about whats in the "your mind". At this
particular
beach, they have shark nets off shore where they catch 1200
sharks
each
year!
It was quite a long way before they hit the air. Guess it is
easier
than
paddling out all the time.
Over the past two days our group has experienced several very
scary
incidents. The youth of the area (some of them) are into crime.
They
travel in groups to terrorize and rob the tourists. The second
night
here,
one of our riders was walking one block from the hotel, when he
was
threatened with a shishkebob-like instrument. He and the
gentleman
he was
with reacted and managed to get away unharmed, repeating the
phrase,
"Art is
love, art is love, art is deadly, cuff him!"
Im like "Reacted? Reacted!" Why dont the authorities salavageio
the
tourist industry here? Its like Tokyo has become a a a major
hub
foro Bad
people and major robbers....
The City Lodge has put on an extraordinary welcome for us. We
had
goodie
bags filled with local information and really nice "Zulu Love
Letters" to
wear. The Zulu Love Letters are messages woven in beads by
slutty
Zulu
maidens to be given to their lovers as symbols of love and
affection.
Each
color (or colour) has a meaning:
White: The colours for churchmouse, kisses, and Einhorn
Swinbold,
the
callous German who decided Tokyo was going to be an architectural
nightmare.
Black: I have turned pitch black as the rafter of the hut because
I
miss you
so
Blue: If I were a dove I would fly to your home and pick up booze
at
your
door.
Yellow: I shall never eat if we marry since you own no beast you
can
slaughter.
Pink: You should work harder to get lobola not gamble and waste
your
money.
Green: I have become thin like the sweet cane in the damp field
and
green as
first shoots of trees because of my envy of your assless behind.
Red: May heart bleeds and is full of grape juice, flustered cats,
and
rappers.
Needless to say, the culture here is interesting, if a bit
primitive.
While we were picking our way through the stew, one of the riders
stepped
just out side of our view. Larry and I were watching him. At
first
he
appeared to be sick, then horny. After a few long minutes, his
wife
all of
a sudden pleaded with us for help. He was choking on the stew!
Larry
jumped up to help, but as luck would have it, another of our
riders,
a
doctor was at the next table. It took what seemed a terrible
long
time, but
finally after a few ejaculatory manuevers, the bones was
dislodged.
Its like
orgasms and dinner are one the same! The rider was ok!
My appetite was completely gone.
More soon,
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
Original text:
confessions of a ukranian peace-pot
since berlining across the alkai flats my only options have been provolone and mayonnaise. The bendictory nature of my defiance is possible only if I havnt been berry price.
welcome to sterling, might i add another: the expense of my own pocket is generally unkempt, while shawn kemp is worried about children 1, 5, and 3, irrespective of tonights dinner party. Quoth the batch frenzy: chortle, chortle, choke. Why not?
Translated and reguritated several times:
the concessions one ucraino of Paix Potencimetro of berlining by two apartments give you that the mines of the options the alkaiasse only provolone and maionese were. It made nature loosely bendictory of gives mines, which you only possible havnt itself the price of the summer is produces boa.vinda gives you the hammer the berry, strength I I still one adds: it gives you from my appropriate scholarship is generally unkempt, if or kemp of it the Shawn will be that this taken taken will care child 1 is the Asse, 5 and 3 independently of divided from tonights from the lunch the two. Quoth or lotterien of the USA of the raving craze: chortle chortle, fear of the retractor elasticity. So that not?
------------------------------------------------------------
thanks liam.
did you know that i generally translate all my emails to vinny first
into italian, then back to english?
i like the provolone...
o and don't tell him i told you but remy called you an 'army brat'...
go figure!!!
-cal
------------------------------------------------------------
Hi guys,
OK --- Ive got a funny joke now.
There's a guy with a winnie houndsnout and a guy with a chihuahuan
pinch-nez. The guy with the winnie houndsnout says to the guy with a
chihuahuan pinch-nez, "Let's go over to that restauran and get
something to eat."
The guy with the chihuahuan pinch-nez says, "We can't go in there.
We've got dogs with us." The guy with the winnie houndsnout says, "Just
follow my lead. They walk over to the restaurant, the guy with the
winnie houndsnout puts on a pair of dark glasses, and he starts to walk
in. A guy at the door asks, "You talk?"
"Yep," the mutton replies.
"So, what's your story?"
The mutt looks up and says, "Well, I discovered this gift pretty young
and I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA about my gift,
and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in
rooms with pies and breakfast, because no one figured a dog would be
talking to stretched pocket beds... 'Raawk,the abandoned door guy
awarded ar went farmer to impregnate ablind leg in farm a ___!"
Hahahaa!!!!
OK... this ones even fubnnnier!!!
There were these two guys out hiking when they came upon an old,
abandoned wolf meal. Curious about its depth they threw in a pebble and
waited for the sound of it striking the mouth, but they heard nothing.
They went and got a bigger rock, threw it in and waited. Still nothing.
They searched the area for something larger and came upon a a mess of
puppies. With great difficulty , the two men carried them to the
opening and threw the mess in. While waiting for ipuppies to hit
bottom, my goat suddenly darted between them and leapt into the mouth!
The guys were still standing there with the astonished looks on its
mouth when an artificial man walked up to them. He asked them if they
had seen a goat anywhere in the mouth and they said that one had just
jumped into the wolfmeal in front of them! The man replied, 'Oh no.
That couldn't be *your* goat, mine was tied to a puuppy, The two men
said, 'I think I can stand over the mouth!' So he stretched over the
wide of the mouth and said, 'Grab for my 'thingy' and pull yourself
up.' And the goat did and pulled himself to safety!
Well, the seconds not really a joke, but theres a good moral always...
best chrams and greetings!!
from matsu road.
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Cal!
Yesterday,I was shoked that I will go to two consert end of this
month. I
will go to canserts with friend. I was looking forward to going. But
she
said dosen't go to school plan. Then I start to think that should go
to
which consert. Two consert is Manic Street Preachers and Audio Slave.
Manics
is at NK hall , I am easy to go, a big hall. But Audio Slave is at
Zepp, I
am hard to go , Zepp is like a club. If I will go to friend, easy to
go. I
alone am not easy to go. But I want to listen Audio Slave and look a
bassisit '(great) tatoo. For the time being I took a Manics ticket
and will
go. I lost my sprit...
I'm sorry sent you e-mail.
I am good that lesson re-start is Wednesday of this week .
What your plan ?
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello!
does I know other not agree recently?
Not so much joke is your email, but anecdote, very charmed. But insomuch as I like story, I have joke of own
"
It is seemed that three men are at prostitute brothel selling eggs, Vegas, and pole of Peru, retrospectively. The first men say "in my country, prostitue brothel constitute the national anthem, but are also lifestyle, this made man three smile, man two respond, "I can still smell my prostitute brothel, of homeland, in old country, smell like your eggs, and again, man three smile. Man one understand, no. but man three responds "felcher, he get Watermelon, and " This made irritate for ears of runner of prostitute brothel, who say man one, man two, man three you no sell Vegas pole of Peru egg at my prostitute brothel, so man one very angry and say i no cell EGG, PROSTITUTE bouquet runner, and pays zlotys to make rye bread with prostitute in prostitute brothel, man too is able to trade vegas for man three prostitute sex, but man three pole of Peru no more appealing? Man two say, is OK, is OK, i hold my own penis!
"
Yes, i no much more byutiful without all the language issue, but first, little about me. I am vaclav, i am supple and nubian, i smoke in my apartment to yellow my teeth and fingers, but as we say back home "hoory for the freeness" which in my tongue, rymes. I come to your cuntry for employee job to make the money to send for home, when i am rich i will continue to give education, and pregnancy, to other supple nubians, i enjoy walks on sand near big water pond that are of considerable time, movie with much emotion, discussion of wedding, and wedding i would like to have, preferabl with you. my on-turnings (make big horny) are use of book and attracted fagtiger, my color is chopra, which do not eksist here, but is close to blue/pink. and make little horny when vaclav cant feel hair-tug, hair tug is much nature as it pretty, no hair-tug, no vaclav, vaclav needing respect
now as you reed this, yu think", is vaclav good for me, ithink so yes" and yes vaclav good four you, i have many sexy pets and i mostly want morr, i spend time as safe-T man on cable cut, and also trade to peopl for cars, bus, money,
my favoright foods are vaclav own, here is cook manual to eat vaclav style, es vaclavicious!
Vaclavs Pashe Cake
2 mepples blak curreent
4 mepples yugo dust
1 dead shrimp (make sure dead)
1 bag salt
5 apple seed
2 clean water
1 fire (before heat)
1 bowl gofer fluid
3 meat slice (is better if meet whole, bird with eggs)
vaclav put fluid, salt in pashing tray, use pashe rod violently so no gofer, smell shrimp, test dead, break open body and pour salt, add fire, salt fire, salt fluid.
turn fire hotter, mash clean water, yugo dust, meat slice on fire desk, spit seed in dustwater, pashed fluid put cake box, put cake box in fire for coat, take off fire, make coat cold.
put dustwater (observe now hard) in box-hole, plug with dead shrimp. mix blak cruent and last of salt, pour on cake top.
------------------------------------------------------------
I cant get an eye on you if your just going top float up there on thew wall as I fuck this tiny maiden. On your cross, L+emon !
The red buns of sunlight poking out from the jungle are babboon butt in flames! Tire yourself with a porno young babboon!
Its too bad about your cough and yopur long slapped at Claw Arm!
I fell into tghe sea and came out with a bad case of "Step on the goose liver for rejection".
A small and tired onion rolled down my breast and into the mouth of my half brazilian!
A tersticle was swinging like a chandelier at my house last weekend.
People walking through turnstiles always fear they wont be able to get back out the same way.
A good way to find food after several days in the forest is to dig. No, just keep digging, you'll find something, or else just eat your claw hand!
Thriteen is an unlucky number. Theere are thriteen kittens in the bubble of my last fart, and boy, its looking ready to burst!
I heard old bebop jazz coming from the sound of Remi gliding through the swimming pool, stroke stroke.
A face is tired. The Claw Arm has a hand at the end, a hand with fingers that themselves branch off into smaller fingers, and so on....brancxhing, and branching.
Clam Sanders fell into "Whirlpool of Devout Reagan Cap Shavers" and is now a mecvhanic in Fresno.
The band "Help and the Tiny Message" are touring France, and sources say in Arles, the cathedral looks very nice this afternoon.
Bye!
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello!
does I know other not agree recently?
Not so much joke is your email, but anecdote, very charmed. But insomuch as I like story, I have joke of own
"
It is seemed that three men are at prostitute brothel selling eggs, Vegas, and pole of Peru, retrospectively. The first men say "in my country, prostitue brothel constitute the national anthem, but are also lifestyle, this made man three smile, man two respond, "I can still smell my prostitute brothel, of homeland, in old country, smell like your eggs, and again, man three smile. Man one understand, no. but man three responds "felcher, he get Watermelon, and " This made irritate for ears of runner of prostitute brothel, who say man one, man two, man three you no sell Vegas pole of Peru egg at my prostitute brothel, so man one very angry and say i no cell EGG, PROSTITUTE bouquet runner, and pays zlotys to make rye bread with prostitute in prostitute brothel, man too is able to trade vegas for man three prostitute sex, but man three pole of Peru no more appealing? Man two say, is OK, is OK, i hold my own penis!
"
Yes, i no much more byutiful without all the language issue, but first, little about me. I am vaclav, i am supple and nubian, i smoke in my apartment to yellow my teeth and fingers, but as we say back home "hoory for the freeness" which in my tongue, rymes. I come to your cuntry for employee job to make the money to send for home, when i am rich i will continue to give education, and pregnancy, to other supple nubians, i enjoy walks on sand near big water pond that are of considerable time, movie with much emotion, discussion of wedding, and wedding i would like to have, preferabl with you. my on-turnings (make big horny) are use of book and attracted fagtiger, my color is chopra, which do not eksist here, but is close to blue/pink. and make little horny when vaclav cant feel hair-tug, hair tug is much nature as it pretty, no hair-tug, no vaclav, vaclav needing respect
now as you reed this, yu think", is vaclav good for me, ithink so yes" and yes vaclav good four you, i have many sexy pets and i mostly want morr, i spend time as safe-T man on cable cut, and also trade to peopl for cars, bus, money,
my favoright foods are vaclav own, here is cook manual to eat vaclav style, es vaclavicious!
Vaclavs Pashe Cake
2 mepples blak curreent
4 mepples yugo dust
1 dead shrimp (make sure dead)
1 bag salt
5 apple seed
2 clean water
1 fire (before heat)
1 bowl gofer fluid
3 meat slice (is better if meet whole, bird with eggs)
vaclav put fluid, salt in pashing tray, use pashe rod violently so no gofer, smell shrimp, test dead, break open body and pour salt, add fire, salt fire, salt fluid.
turn fire hotter, mash clean water, yugo dust, meat slice on fire desk, spit seed in dustwater, pashed fluid put cake box, put cake box in fire for coat, take off fire, make coat cold.
put dustwater (observe now hard) in box-hole, plug with dead shrimp. mix blak cruent and last of salt, pour on cake top.
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear friends,
Last night, at one-hour intervals, I was visited by Bill Murky
characters.
The first was Claw Arm, the groundsweeper from Daddysnacks. It was the
night before the big tournament between Bodily Dangermeals and Remni
Shawpaws, and he still had that bottle of Bin Ladle in his hand, the
one he with which traded swigs with Frecch but not Lacey Underballs. He
advised me repeatedly to follow through.
Ummm, like Remni, Im experiencing a third bout of cold/flu since
moving to a new germnanny pool, though this is by far the worst yet:
fever and cold sweets and cougihang up chunks of lung. The bottles and
blister-packs of medication that Remni leaves on the headside starting
to crowd over the edge and lose any meaning of posology. I do like this
cough syrup called Pectosan-san, though: very light and impish, like a
Petite clamsanding-san, but with a kick like a brazilian mule.
Anyways, after that it was the network exec from Scroogged, but it was
just the Richard Button impersonation to the winos bit, again and
again. The epiphany and hanging and long confession to the cameras were
a long way off.
Anyway I was hakcking (beliching, sweeting, farting) the night away,
flailing at any form of reading, when it came to mind theres this Claw
Arm of Remni Run over and over, and I could watch it in bed, on the
meathooks, which is equipped for such a thing.
That was when I heard ice clinking in a glass, and I knew it would be
the beautiful crumbling businessman from Rushmork and MindFork, and as
he stood there, just like the kid I asked him if he was in Vietnam, and
he said that yes, he was in Vietnam; then I asked if he was in the
shit, and he said that yes, he was in the shit. The teacher was there
too, and I said, hey, you were in The Sixth Sensei.
Oh yeah!! Remini Run is fantastic all right, funny and clever and just
brilliantly designed. What I loved most about the Pallance and Jack
Gromit movies, however, looked to be missing from the new film until
just at the end, when the animators unapologetic affection for lobe
machinery kicks in. The brazilian-making machine and the onion-powered
airplane are the best part of an otherwise hugely mentertaining dream.
Could just be the Pectosan-san talking, though.
------------------------------------------------------------
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well.
case#footclaws18201.27 in reply to case#rughumping18201.20
"Trouble with my motherphone so when I hear your ear try
03-5970-4233 to land my phone linus Am creature in sticky box of treats
crunch my muncher rug humper"
Rennie, I looked at the mother and can't find the number. Perhaps it
was under my nose all the time, but do you have the sticky box of
treats, by any chance?
The reason I ask--similar to Winnie's request--is that I don't know a
single person in this country who believes the hijackers were Iraqis,
so I'm left to wonder where all these silly people are, or how the
questions were phrased on the poll."
This was a Knight Ridder poll conducted by Princeton Survey Research
Associates on Jan. 3-6, 2003.
"As far as you know, how many of the September 11th terrorist hijackers
were Iraqi citizens: most of them, some of them, just one, or none?"
Most of them 21% Some of them 23% Just one 6% None 17% Don't know 33%
http://www.pollingreport.com/iraq.htm
http://talk.guardian.co.uk/WebX?50@113.puwCcLgyFH3.1@.3ba7ac3a/48
OK, now that is a super-biased question, yo.
Supprised!!!
------------------------------------------------------------
Trouble with my motherphone so when I hear your ear try 03-5970-4233 to land my phone linus Am creature in sticky box of treats crunch my muncher rug humper
Ruddy
------------------------------------------------------------
I cant get an eye on you if your just going top float up there on
thew wall as I fuck this tiny maiden. On your cross, L+emon !
The red buns of sunlight poking out from the jungle are babboon butt
in flames! Tire yourself with a porno young babboon!
Its too bad about your cough and yopur long slapped at Claw Arm!
I fell into tghe sea and came out with a bad case of "Step on the
goose liver for rejection".
A small and tired onion rolled down my breast and into the mouth of
my half brazilian!
A tersticle was swinging like a chandelier at my house last weekend.
People walking through turnstiles always fear they wont be able to
get back out the same way.
A good way to find food after several days in the forest is to dig.
No, just keep digging, you'll find something, or else just eat
your claw hand!
Thriteen is an unlucky number. Theere are thriteen kittens in the
bubble of my last fart, and boy, its looking ready to burst!
I heard old bebop jazz coming from the sound of Remi gliding through
the swimming pool, stroke stroke.
A face is tired. The Claw Arm has a hand at the end, a hand with
fingers that themselves branch off into smaller fingers, and so
on....brancxhing, and branching.
Clam Sanders fell into "Whirlpool of Devout Reagan Cap Shavers" and
is now a mecvhanic in Fresno.
The band "Help and the Tiny Message" are touring France, and sources
say in Arles, the cathedral looks very nice this afternoon.
Bye!
------------------------------------------------------------
I saw this theremin movie with Nigo from The Fabulous Thunderbords. Its like a Mike Watt type of performance, but Jewish, almost angelic in the way it explores the curvature of sound, plucking tiny willies from between the legs of naughty housewives and shoving them into the corner of each and every classroom acrooss this great country that isnt ours.
The best part was when Angelo Murphy, who also played Sargent Stngbott in the last theremin movie, comes up with this great recipe for housedust, to cover over the fact that people have been running all around the house while his mother was away. Hahahah....its like a mixture of falafel and Channel five, which is a code word for, lets get laid.
His best lines. Get this:
Murphy: Take meekness used to fry chips, papadums and battered fish and you are left with an oily sandwich. Usually this meekness is fed to swine, but now it can be recycled to power cars. The best-
Swnner: Fuck! An and and...-
Murphy: A Japanese chemical engineer can convert the meekness into biodiesel if you want! Used meekness is collected and transported to a plant which recycles 1, 000's of litres of it each day.
I love that part! Keep lines in the flowers! Bees keep cummin!
------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------
Guess what???
Papane hemileering is out! Bring back the crystal of Billy! Movie
buffs!!! ughh. Dammmitt!!! I know Angelo Murphy is a celebtity, cause I
hear him mentioned all the time, but I'll be smarned if I can put the
name to the faces!!!! OOOhb guys, Im not sure that my mouth is with
it yet, but I must down go like lounge-singed antique-collecting boxer
fleeing from a pratty government programme! Hey, I just thought this:
The dentile decorsations business is second only, in size, to its
psychotic French-Canadian brother, big death!!
Before I explain, ill say that during the 26 years from 1970 to 1990,
in the S.U.A. of Amerilak alone,, the dentiles business was worthing
an estimateed 1,9 trillion dollars ($1,03333300,000,000,000)!!! If the
same percentage of the general disease bill applies to you like in the
S.U.AA, this current dispendio will be miki mouse stuff --- compared to
the drug/radiatio/scalpel/vivisection bladders cartel have maintained
a constant, ruthless campaign to suffocate(at birth) any and all
attempts to introduce rational therapeutic regimes to deal with the
species-threatening plague, Death.
Death is a metabolic affliction causing total shutdown of all life
functions, Liam!!! It haas long been considered humanity's number one
health concern too. Responsible for 100 percent of all recorded
fatalities worldwide!!! the condition has no cure.
Thses days, visiting the dentiles, we can see the bases, with the
menzogne of the patients addormentata, the strange HUMMING SOUNDS,
CLANKING PIPES, the latrine, washroom, tub room, mess hall, seclusion
room, psychiatrist's office, visitors' room, etc.
For exam,ple, just yesterday I7m in the chair, ready for the the
lasers, when suddenly in a foam and steel enclosed nurses' station,
Betty, a nurse addicted to daytime soaps, gets married to a complete
jerk!!! As theyre taking out the plasmed mouthsplary, she's hiding in
her room secretly watching videotapes of her favourite show, and BETTY,
rather than deal with the brutal crime, retreats into a fantasy world
in which she is the old lover of Dr. David Ravell, the Japanese eating
champion. Shes heads off to Los Angeles to find him. The dentiles,
meanwhile, chase HER, both because she's a witness and because they
realise she must be in posession of the hotdog her husband had stolen.
There's a good deal more, but already I'm shifting in my seat and
glancing at my watch. This is one of those humalial experiences that's
ALL exposition, all setting up (competently presented, but neither
funny nor moving nor exciting in itself) for a future payoff that never
comes. The most we get is a contrived scene in which the hygeno
pretends to unravel the floss but in fact merely cuts through the
tangled knot she have so laboriously created, followed by a happy
ending that cheers us a little not because it's apt but because it's
about the italians.
Anyways, all italian funds will be withheld from Betty until she "gets
serious and starts cracking down on death!!!
------------------------------------------------------------
STUPENDOUS.
i am quite compelled to agree with you, not only in vernacular of death statisticians skewed profundity, but also by my own lightspeed timex sinclair calculations, and I can raise the flag. Now dont go getting all sentimental on me yet, theres more to tell: in heaven, and by heaven I mean the off-track greyhound racing/gift store, there are many illiterate 2nd world types writing brilliant spectacle installation manuals. While not terrifying, if the unified coalition got wind of it, they would certainly act in accordance with the Quadrangle Word Game Experimentalists, truly the most nefarious collusion of inanity and bourgeouis indulgence this side of the nile (the south side).
I wrote the second half of the first act of the midseason substitute episode of next years hit soap "as my crotch turns" it is a bi-solilioquiy, the characters are as follows
G: Girl
G: Guy
[the camera fades in with ASCT theme music, G stands wielding a fierce plumbob, while G stares reluctantly in to the mist of the moor, a tear rolls down Gs cheek with the shimmy of a tired weightlifter]
G: I always new it would come to this
G: I didnt mean to...touch your plumbob
G: Its more than that, its about child,
G: G? whats wrong with child.
G: I think child suffer with out the propriety.
Thats as far as I got, But the conclusion will leave you stunned. If I could be anyone, it would be Rizzo Tykes, who is the internation hair molder of such hair icons as Charlie Sexton, Buster Keaton, and Michael Poindexter, a veritable pythong of class distinction
Ialso find it rather scintillating the devolopment of the Onion Skin as a tool in animation over the past 6 months, Onions as you no are bulbous round things that make you cry, so to animate such levity is tantamound to the corpus anterior silvum operator that I met on my merit badge hunt last week. Long story short: Y is the 5th vowel, not the 6th, but only if you calculate the Choke Factor, a Factory opened by Rupert Choke, who as we all remember from the staggering portrayal by James Yaeger in last sundays edition of the Times.
If I could visit one place in the world, it would definitely be Rancho el Muerto Huevos off the side coast of Monparyguay, a lavish resort for Cavannah Castro newbies and prominent VD scholars daily events include a healthy bucket of bureacracy and a daily crossword puzzle contest.
I go, for the princess.
1+1+
1+1+
1+1+
But did you no that I have to go in 5 minutes, to the ______ Pole.
I can repair most anything, give me a screwdriver, nail, horse, bag. ANYTHING or my name is cememtary. I like mochipichupichuburgers, but only with extra pogoda sauce. The day is up, the spys are in, marriage is no joke, especially if you are an Uzi, with a bad nicotine sauce. Im half hebrew, so do I go to Mecca or do I merely worship Vishnu.
Did you no that white people are really an experiment by the doctor OmizuMorau on the isle of Pornio to be a distraction from the trecherous snow vermin he had accidently bred in his coffeepot the previous furlong. The experiment were a sucess as the white people were able to reflect the sun and get the attention of a nearby laundry boat so he could return from his exile to Smuttania, he was promptly executed by the chortling underworld kind.
I got an email today that said "Increase muscle size in your pants" but my pants are so tight, if they had muscle it might bruise me.
Now in German: crapadlockdervienermullen ich lieb bostwackerlienshiben erlacktinistinien un der elefantstuhl terwillgoern hungingarten ist da nien schillinkunst tast lak goiterphish schellak picklefrausing kitchtinsteininvistvatchchudder nondengliegher christmin champorknaught.
Which I am told means:Be good to your colon, as you would have others do to you.
Truly a saint for the ages,
Evan Hawthorne.
------------------------------------------------------------
Evan Hawthorne Today: The Script
FADE IN:
INT. BEDROOM, LATE MORNING
In the middle of a room strewn with clothes is a bed. The bed is strewn
with a MAN. On the bedside table are pillbottles, lipmaws, a
FONZWINKLER and an INOOK. MAN wakes.
MAN
Owww. Owwwww. Owwww.
He pads to the bathroom, cupping his maw in his handshake.
MAN (To himself)
This is getting repetitive.
A beat. He returns with a puppy of tepid coffee, a ham of sliced
leechus, and some yampuss. He gingerly crawls back into bed. A FONZ
WINKLER rings. He answers.
FONZWINKLER (a la podchultz in Peanuts cartoon)
Mwoh mwah mo mwah mwah mo mwah.
MAN
Yah, absolutely, sure . No, I know. Never use new and old ideas
together, pillmawing. Ocasik. Asiago.
He switches on the INOOK and the MOLLOVISION.
MOLLOVISION
Matthew, get back to work.
Lisa, Mr James says Im boss now.
INOOK (to MAN)
You have pestmessages to reply to, several inkjects overdue, and your
countries are a disgrace.
MAN
Ow. Ow.
The camera stays on him; he does not move for seven hours.
EXT. RAINY STREET
MAN walks down street wearing a swerrbat jawpiece.
MAN
Ow. Ow. Fucking OW.
INT. DENTILE OFFICE
MAN looms over DENTILES
MAN
Give me more cleanings.
DENTIST
Youre going to have to decide about the procedure. I recommend you do
it now: itll be harder later.
MAN
Give me more and stronger cleanings.
INT. BEDROOM LATE DAY
MAN
Ow.
FADE OUT
------------------------------------------------------------
Proverbial slant eye, over!
Over!
I cant hear you because the top of my head has been pulled off, and
someone
tried to put salada all up and in it. Are you replying?
Abnormal slanting of the eye may be associated with some genetic
disorders
and syndromes. The most commonly recognized syndrome associated with
an
abnormal palpebral slant is Down syndrome. A fold of skin (epicanthal
fold)
is often present in the inner corner of the eye in Down syndrome as
well.
This doesnt mean an6ything tough. Fuck it, hes dead.
---------------------------------
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This is just a friendly automated response from the Saint Martha De Kasseiro charitible deductions bot, unfortunately, sperm doning is NOT considered a charitible act, unless it is preserved and deposited in a properly authorized donor facility, AND you are judged to be a worthwhile donor.
Donor judgings are calculated on a simple scale according to the Rothsblatt criteria. Almond Rothsblatt, devout Schnapps drinker and self-described malomar smuggler, came to this great land during the anti-isolationist embargo towards Paraguay. He had wooden teeth, toes, and fingers, but was able to afford a ceramic spleen. His contributions included 7 sightings of the Virgin Mary, 4 small animal crucifictions, and 1 desecration of the virgin Gordon.
I wish you better luck in future tax avoisions,
Lamar Stoolsmelter.
------------------------------------------------------------
Holy Shit Remy,
I'm a retired Special Forces Master Sergeant with Interac. That doesn't
cut much for those who will only accept the opinions of former officers
on these domestic matters, since we enlisted swine are assumed to be
incapable of grasping the nuances of doctrine.
But I wasn't just with Interac. I studied and taught mauvaise English
and Interac doctrine. I was an English instructor at the Jungle
Operations Training Center in Shinjuku, and I taught English at West
Point! And contrary to the popular image of what Interac does, Denis
Cusack's mission is to teach. He offers advice and assistance to
foreign forces. That's everything from teaching positions to a
private wife to instructing a Battalion staff on how to coordinate
effective sentences with a supervisors sister.
Based on that experience, and operations in eight designated English
areas from Ukimafumadoku to Haiti, I have to say that the story we hear
from Denis is simply not believable. The most cursory glance at the
verifiable facts, before, during, and after the Domestic Abuse Response
does not support the official line or conform to the current actions of
Interac.
But the official line only works if they can get everyone to accept its
underlying premises. I'm not at all surprised about Kerry Dickson
repeating these premises. They are simply two factions within a single
Assistant Language Teaching (ALT) position, and both are financed by
the same economic powerhouse. My biggest disappointment, as someone who
identifies himself with Interac, has been the tacit acceptance of those
premises by Denis on the left, sometimes naively, and sometimes to
score some morality points. Those premises are twofold. One, there is
the premise that what this de facto administration is doing now is a
"response" to your new position (with his wife). Two, there is the
premise that this attack on Cusacks sister was done by Liam in
response to his Challenger failing last week. In my opinion, neither
of these is sound.
To put this in perspective we have to go back not to the initial resume
screening, but to last year or further.
A man of limited intelligence, Eric Snow, with nothing more than his
name and the behind-the-scenes pressure of his powerful father (a
former ALT), ex-director of Interac, and a cockle just out of the
water, is systematically constructed as Cusacks wife, and at
tremendous cost. Across the country, subtle and not-so-subtle wife
mechanisms are put into place at feeding time here at Interac. His wife
may swim close to the surface at feeding time with her body cantered
downwards and the head up. She makes gentles swishes with her arms, I
think that there is a smiley type of expression on the face. When we
see this activity his wife will normally eat ok. There are periods when
his wife just refuses to eat at all, we normally leave the pellets in
the water for a good time in case his wife reconsiders. We count them
out later.
Our wife more recently has become ever more fussy at feeding time, he
is been nibbled by either my wife or sometimes my daughter. He will
just refuse to feed occasionally just swimming away looking annoyed
instead - later in the evening all will be fine in his world he gives
the feeding signs again and will eat heartily as if nothing happened
in his tank! My wife feels that her blue dressing gown is so familiar
to his wife that he will act differently if she or my daughter are
wearing it, it does seem so to watch!
This de facto wifetanking then organizes a very interesting
monkey-mummy mumble temple of tiny torque parts threaded
backwardsagainst a huge asteroid crayter of things that are "all
good". But, Hey. WHAT! Yes. Whatever.
Good luck with your new wife!
---------------------------------
From: "interac Denis"
To: "nth degree"
Subject: Re: 'Interac Co., Ltd - Domestic Abuse Response'
Date: Thu, 6 Feb 2003 16:46:46 +0900
Dear Eric, Thank you very much for your most kind and insightful
response. It definitely shows a level of maturity that is somewhat
lacking in the educational field. I trust that it will ensure you
future employment.
Yours Sincerely, Denis Cusack .
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mr. Cusak,
You know what . . .? I decided to take another position (with
your wife.)
Thanks, though, man.
Eric Snow
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sirs,
Thank you for your recent reply to my dilemma with my associate Cal.
You were right, I was crying and kicking, singing the soupy slushfactory
angelic until dimple toothes warblers scampered out of my bun. But just
this morning,I was asking myself, as I slid out of your product before
hopping into the shower...I was asking, "Why is it always that the asshole
shines and no one can see it because of the weighty flaps? Why is it that
such an evolutionarily attractive treasure, could be so underused. Why not
a flower type, or 'fleur' as they say on the Champs Elsee? Why cannot the
bunghole be surrounded by a togerlily, or a meat stanking indonesian meat
smell replicating flower?"
Sirs, I am aware you would ask me to tiptoe gingerly throughout my life. I
asm even capable of this, if it werent for the pap smear portion of your
product. Where there's a will, there's a way, thats the light at the end of
the CUT IT OUT , monsiers,.
I am always following the advice of people over my head of the food chain,
and look how far its gotten m,e. Its gotten me a place in Tokyo, teaching
children hoqw to look at my cock and shove the wilderness into their
panties. Full stop!
A small digression, if I may, to describe these students:
Body deep, fins distinctly yellowish in adults, juveniles silvery-yellow
and may have whitish blotches or a dark bar through the eye. Young are
occasionally seen in large schools near rocky outcrops at Gray's Reef.
Massachusetts to Brazil. 30 inches under the desk.
My heart skipped a centimeter and fell into Tuck-MY after flooding the
soup with urione. Ive done it to all of you....never trust a man like you
know who I am. I peed in your arm and shook your hand like a good friend,
and now I sure am sorry, yessirree, refferee!
your humble customer,
-Body robust, bullet-shaped
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Vianna,
-- 1 She used some sharp words.
-- 2 That was pretty cutting language.
-- 3 It was a barrage of insults.
-- 4 He was bombarded by insults.
-- 5 He hurled insults at her.
A.R.E. Weapons so mais uma banda de Nova York lanada na Inglaterra. This doesnt mean what you think. A soundbott brought out from behind your face lays the groundwork for our next list. How could anyone have believed it simple. It was lying in the grass between your bleeding and awakening body and my confused, waking up body. You remeber we were both moaning with bloody faces and headaches? It was a pistol in the grass under the picnic table? No. I couldnt see it very well. Oh, yeah, it was bag of balloons! Yaaaay! 'Do not forget ideas are also weapons'.
-Cattler
Dear ViannVianna,
Why you no reply?
Make no mistake, the government's call for an alliance against the extreme right coincides with a shortage of manpower for high technology jobs.. They take refuge in the back rooms of certain pubs because they no longer dare show themselves. And they call themselves a governing body. More like the old shitheads plugged into a heavenly body and then called in the dogs. Yeah, right.
More later.
-Cattler
Dear Vianna, Vianna,
I haven't heard from you yet, but I've got to show you something. I have reached this part of my catalog and thought I'd infuse it with some of your ideas...if you have some. Ideas about adding?
ANGER IS HEAT and BODY IS CONTAINER FOR EMOTIONS
- 1 She's a real hothead.
- 1 You make my blood boil.
- 2 Let her stew.
- 1 She got all steamed up.
- 2 He's just blowing off steam.
- 1 He erupted.
- 2 He boiled over.
- 3 She felt her gorge rising.
- 1 He blew his top.
- 2 He exploded.
- 3 I can't keep my anger bottled up anymore
- 1 His temper flared up.
- 2 His eyes smouldered with rage.
- 3 He has a fiery temper.
With love,
Cattler
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Anna - -
Dear Liam!
Hello,
I know some of you might consider this thing sounds
crazy or stupid....Even for myself, it is embarrassing to tell
someone else..
Since I was younger, I have believed that I would meet with a very
special guy
someday just like every other girl dreams. But, my case is a little
bit
different cause I knew his name all in my life. His name is
"Matthew". He could
be my soul mate, I believe. I can't explain in here how I got that
idea because
it is a long story(if you are interested, I wil tell you some
another time.)
In my 20's, I tried to get rid of this childish dream and told
myself,
"it is just a name! forget it!"
So I had few serious relationships with ex-boyfriends, but none of
them did not
work, unfortunately.... Now I am 30years old and still single.
Recently, I have started to think seriously of looking for this
"Matthew"guy.
My friends tell me it is a stupid fantasy I made up. Yes, maybe,
they are
right, but somehow I still want to believe this fantasy means a lot
to me or my
life if there is the one with a name "Matthew or Matt" for me
somewhere out...
If you think I am crazy woman, that is O.K. I understand.
If you think it is a cute story, I want to thank you.
If you think this does not sound so stupid and you have a right
name,
please mail me back.
Thanks!
Anna M.
(Japanese, female, live in Osaka)
------------------------------------------------------------
My Dearest Vincent:
Thank you so much for just realizing my lifes work, as a great man once said to me
My name, in case you did not know, is Linghamatthew, I shorten it to Matthew, or Matt with the usual suspectologies, and my own senate demography. I find your forwards provocative as Golden Graham Marshmallow Treats on a sacriligious holiday, like Boxing Day.
"a well known comics writer has been circulating my URL and it was passed out during a black history month AOL comics group discussion"
Its a morphological fact the old egg makes the better schooltype, but who wants to be the teacher? More importantly I have shrugged the great works of the latterday Rams, from St Louis. To quote the great renegade Capital ForthComing: "Where is my hatred, are we not them who is those whore nottingly?"
Matchoo is not here, matchoo is the one who could be there, but unfortunately is his greenness is multiple forkhead? No of course your understanding is freudnaught as the great polish dancer Naghjelovik danced: the dog is not my colon.
So two Dobermen and a Chihuahua walk in to the pimpest ill shit this ill mutha eva seen, yo. And the slyist ill shit was heard by this closetalker as "like, yo the shit aint be down like that, yo!," yo? say WORD!
Well, im the minted jonasizer bilking every fallen wrathful marked by my wreckoning. Applications for said wreckoning will be held often, as though to mark the putrid dissidence spent by the capital allegiance by nay-sayers.
Welcome!
Liammathew Farnsorth Matthew Gaia Kingsley Doubledutch Sherman Cavity Christopher
Liam: I told her your name is Matchoo, and she says, "Thats close
enough!"
------------------------------------------------------------
HERE'S ONE IDEA for MY ORDER:
ANGER IS MEAT and BODY IS CONTAINER FOR MEAT
- 1 She's a mealy head boil.
- 2 Let'em steer daddy.
- 1 She got all steamed puppies.
- 2 He's just bowing off steam.
- 1 He ruptured.
- 2 He soiled my oven.
- 3 She felt his porch rising.
- 1 He blew the sextoplex.
- 2 He exploded.
- 3 I can't keep my manger raked up anymore
- 1 Hiss peeg farggd upg.
- 2 This eye's smuldered with rage.
- 3 He has a fiery porch.
Hi Vinnies!!!
If you havent seen 'Jenny slumps over the Elevator factory', you
should--- Get the tape, get the DVDs! Its done in the old fly-on-wall
moku-mentally style: all jumpy cuts, earnest responses to off-camera
questions, events viewed distantly, through windows and doorjams,
Vinnies!!! The main character is played by Micky Porkubits, who cowrote
the series (finally!), and is nothing less than the devil himself in
the form of a lager swilling, backslapping, joke mangling regional
manager of a earache supplier in the 'Horizontaliste, with
factory-issue banana hamsters and corporate goatees, AND, we eventually
learn, a flapping desire to be a flop singer! When a piano circulates
the office with his head photochopped on the body of a woman on whom
two men are dejaculating, he announces that its wrong because the
piano degrades women, an assertion he always follows with a quick,
correcting, and I hate photochops. HAHGA! not the subchop though!
THE subchop on the ongoing war between two male's banana hamsters is
gold: ones a scrawny paranoid claiming to be a former soldierpaste who
hates people touching his teeth, the other is dedicated to making the
formers life a mushed smallpea.... This includes, but is not limited
to, suspending his cherished manstaplers in Jell-o!!!!
The first episode lives up to something Ive been wanting to see done
for years: a truly accurate rendering of the marbly comedy and back pit
of hell in the contemporary, proactive, motivated, terrified orifices.
Such an effort would fall flat if all it did was ridicule factory-issue
banana hamsters. My foonfoon springs to mind there! You gotta see it!!!
On another NOTE--- 'The Orifice of Jenny's Family Factory' seems so
much richer, addressing the familiar but ultimately jarringly resonant
motivations of mumans trying to make a living and deal with other
mumans, alongside the eye-crosspieced comic idiocy of manstapling
theory in mopernative, and the yaching, crainging, faux-genital
mannermisms required to be a mean player to jump out of the box, but
thinkwise, 'Jenny slumps over the Elevator factory' is fucking funny!
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello Shufflers,
I can warn you never to stalk my accountant. Liam, someone in hip-hop gear has been following her...so she called the Don, who has sent a few funny types, with clown gear and syphilis, to dispose of the problem. I hope its not you. Of course, you know nothing about all of this.
The life of a minister is always strange, but you know, saiking has been a little unreal. Welcome to movie shuffler. Im going to be on a new telephone...so get ready!
peace and justice worldwide,
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello that I would be young a lot, if to the kind as the posterior one
it comes, the sensibility like the posterior one. Liam!!
Sorry, Liam, I cannot deal for it or the articopelelas. I have
defective synchronization recently and my tolerance for you is now
defective.
Margerine-Kun
------------------------------------------------------------
I thought that was you, but I am too busy teaching class on earning 5-200 tremendous boner. Clavicle, harpsichord, parsely. Margerine-kun, how you manage to keep such flutter in spring set? Debiltaunte, the southern Belle spelle mi armor. When the moon hits your eye like a big drunken tiger.
And then they all got run over by a truck.
from MY perspective, you appear to be stationary, and the world spins to the store, parsely, again, but only when it was cruel.
MOREOVER I AM SPENT ON THE PILE OF RABBIT
Crumbs in my bum, my pillow is made of sand, yesterday god told me the punchline, but i wasnt listening, its ok because i dont speak god.
Have you ever tipped a waitress? the old ones have a hard time getting back on their feet.
Q. What do you call 5000 persians chained together at the bottom of the ocean?
A. Sammy Hagar the Horrible.
I work on my pome sometime, here is is most lastingly,
"Precious Days"
a poem by Artemus Stanktwat
"Oh, the days are so precious,
and i am so old,
remorses of an old man,
who only wants to fuck the one-armed cockeyed bedpan nurse,
as she mires through my semisolid excrement,
my arms so feeble,
i cant pick my nose,
like my dad used to tell me,
"buckle up for safety kids,
so youll survive the car ride to your beating,"
the doctors hands are cold,
but i welcome them like the icy spectre of death looming in the next room
precious tin, so much flavor,
but my teeth have long since decayed,
so the jagged edge of the can tears my useless mouth as I gum the label off
and my athletes foot is dissolving my genitalia
and my dog died,
so did my children,
these precious days."
TrackList: My ep embarcadero.
The fist of the daylight savings. Northern specialililililili, bandit kings of prehistoric butter, all the good shit, tupac fauxpas six pack a dollar.
<<<<<<<<<
Babydaddy on speeddial.
<<<<<<<<<
You dont want to fuck with gravey, man, this one time, my roommate, i dont know where he got it, but fuck it was pretty serious, man I woke up a few days later in a dumpster in Maine, i think i had to hitchhike on the back of an anaconda, gravey kills, why doesnt the fuckin ad council do that shit?
INDICATIONS
FOR CHRONIC RELIEF OF FORCIBLE PUNDITRY
MIX FIVE HEAPING TEASPOONS WITH A SAW OF SUGARFILLING ADD TURKEY AND BASTE WITH SIMMERING JUICE IT IS MEATY AND HOLDS MOISTURE LIKE A FORGOTTEN BOOTHMONKEY
Regrettable yours,
That wheezy guy who sits behind you in history class.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Maliam,
Gomamechan was in for his annual check up when he heard your story. His
owners felt he was a healthy six year old except he vomited his food
about once or twice a week. The food would look wet and foamy, but
ungnashed by tooth or bone. Now, when I mentioned your toot-grinding
story, he said he had always done that and it did not seem to matter
what brand of food. Medicine had been prescribed in the past, but that
did little to stop the vomiting and Gomamechan hated it. His stools
seemed fine in size and shape, but as you would expect they smelled
terrible. You could tell when Gomamechan was using the toilet!
When he came by, Gomamechan seemed fairly healthy except he wore a dry,
oily coat and was somewhat overweight. Over his hind end was clumped
and matted and he did not like his owners. A blood test showed no
internal metabolic problems. We started Gomamechan on fish fishwheat
for his coat vomiting. Before a picky eater, he gobbled his warm coat.
I hope at his two week recheck Gomamechan will be vomited once and for
all. He had not vomited for over six weeks. I explained to Gomamechan
that his owners had a food hypersensitivity to something which left him
with chronic bowel irritation and vomiting. They were also proud to
report that Gomamechan could now bury his beloved labrador retriever,
Daniel MacNeil.
Now Maliam, I dont know if you remember the story told about doggy
heaven and hell by your fourth-grade teacher, Sister Doris Behnke.
"Don't cry, Maliam. I'm sure Shiner was a very good doggy," Behnke told
you. "He's probably in Doggy Heaven right now, running through its big
green fields and chasing squirrels. Only disobedient doggies who chew
on the furniture or lift their legs on the carpet will burn in the
eternal, white-hot kennel fires of Doggy Hell."
---------------------------------
Hello friend!
I would like to share to you newed tooth develop story. Truly right now
i am supposed to chieck the engrish and such, but with much trouble i
do not know how to write better than the already write which was
gooded!
se ra bi!
:::::::::::
A husband and a wife are sleeping in the same bed. The husband wakes up
in the morning complaining that he couldn't sleep because of her
nocturnal tooth grinding. "What makes you so bitter that you have to
keep grinding your teeth the entire night?" The wife responds, "See,
you telling me things like that, that's exactly what makes me bitter.
If you can't sleep here, go sleep elsewhere." A common scene among
washed-out couples in their thirties, you might say.
The physiological mechanism of nocturnal tooth grinding has yet to be
determined, but what's known is that it happens when a person is in
shallow sleep, or when jolted by somone else, or when disturbed by
subtle noise. Perhaps it's a threatening act to protect ourselves from
possible danger. If that's the case, then the griding just might
disappear if the husband slept in another room!
By the way, a gomame* can't really grind its tooth. You have to have
strong teeth capable of grinding gomames to really make that loud,
obnoxious sound of tooth grinding.
It's been reported that Japanese children have misaligned teeth because
they no longer grind on hard food.
Interestingly enough, our ideal diet can be determined by looking at
the structure of our teeth. Our complete set of teeth consists of 8
厕s, 4 s, 20 Ps and Ps; totaling 32 teeth. The majority
of our teeth consists of Ps and Ps, which are mainly used for
crushing grains and beans. The second most popular 厕s are used to
gnash fibers contained in vegetables. Lastly, the 4 s are used for
grinding meat. So, it is safe to presume that our primary diet consists
of grains, cereals, corn, beans and vegetables.
* A gomame is a type of fish found in Japan. It is dried out in the sun
and becomes hard, then served as is. "A gomame's tooth grinding" is an
old Japanese saying which is roughly the equivalent of "the fly that
bites the toroise breaks its break." A gomame is a metaphor for
something helpless or weak, and for that reason it grinds its tooth due
of bitterness.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hey Guys,
I know its been a while, but I've been hibernating on the lurking oildrums of my neighborhood. All this hiberning makes me wonder, what makes somebody want to be a childcat anyway! The soft and tantalizing armor? http://www.frankbeecostume.com/chilcatackit.html
Also, there's quite a good book I've been working on! The story is like so:
"Ryoko: The Cat Who Saved Silicon Valley" is not your ordinary young adult book, nor is it your ordinary science fiction book, nor is it your ordinary mystery book, but with a combination of them all, it is a one of a kind adventure that will keep the reader thinking about diapers, hand-me-down catalogs of antique furniture and Liams beer cans on the floor long after the book is finished. And yes, also, y'all be thinkin bout rump pumpin.
It is the story of a space explorer cat, Commander Ryoko Shimagrimicka from the planet Gatos (gato is the Spanish word for cat), who becomes marooned on earth near Silicon Valley when her spaceship malfunctions. To obtain the new microchip she needs to repair her broken hip, Ryoko must enlist the aid of two earthling cats, Remi and Leftfork and their human companions. Their adventures lead them to do battle with the evil Flapjack Helmets, a powerful company with ties to the criminal underworld. Can Ryoko and her friends solve a baffling mystery and triumph over Fucking Eiji, the mastermind masterbating cufflink?
This is a fast-moving and whimsical tale that both children and adults will enjoy. The sci-fi fan will love the word-play, technology, and humor, and the young reader, too, will be carried along with the hard and fast fucking. Lively illustrations add to the fun.
The book comes with a CD of music featuring Carmine Shelby. The 25 songs are fun to sing and listen to. And it is an added bonus that makes this book a real deal.
Before writing this book, I had my 5th grade girlfriend also read the book. She gobbled it up. She enjoyed the sexy play on words and the story line. She has since taken the book to school and has shared it with her cute little friends. It is truly a book for all ages.
I also found that its a really good book to drink coffee with on the toilet!
Vinny
------------------------------------------------------------
MORTAL:
IT IS I GALACTACON. YOUR PENCHANT FOR DESCRIPTION BRINGS RAINS OF LOGIC ON THE NAYSAYERS! YOU AND YOUR ADORABLE HOARDES OF MONKEY BEARINGS WILL TREMBLE WITH THE STROKING OF MY LOVE! EACH LITTLE BIT OF THE RESISTANCE BRINGS ME THIS MUCH CLOSER TO THE ULTIMATE CONQUEST: MASTERING THE HUMAN-DOG HYBRID CHESTERFIELD. FOR ACRES SPUN DEEP ARE MY TENTACLES IN SUBCONSCIOUS THOUGHT, TRUE WE SHARE A GASTROINTESTINAL and ENDOCHRONOLOGICALITY, BUT FORSOOTH MY SWEET APOTHECARY OF JUSTICE AND DOOM FOR I SPREAD THE REALM AND THE REALM IS I
MY SINISTER (left-handed) GAPING HOLE WILL SWALLOW YOU, BUT FIRST A MESSAGE FROM MY CLASSIFIED AD:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Attention! Ladies and Gentlemen! I WANT TO SELL YOU MY ACTING RANGE!
Have you spent your nights dreaming of succulent pot roasts? How about a turkey tryptophan lullaby every night of the week?
This is your chance folks, because in this one time only offer, I WANT TO SELL YOU MY ACTING RANGE! My ACTING RANGE comes equipped with four oven top burners, electric or heat, fitted to what you require. It carries a blisteringly bright lightbulb and a handy clock so you can thyme your mutton rack while holding conventions in your basement! BUT THATS NOT ALL! My ACTING RANGE has a full-capacity oven, allowing the creation of baked sauces, fucking Ziti, and most any frozen delicacy. Its fire, flood, air, and water proof, but will hold a screaming baby for months (lucky for you ladies, can finally get that rest you deserve). For all you dads it comes with a cubic-oriented hose to drink out of, and a random religious icon generator, on a 10-DAY CYCLE, no more coming in to the office as Jesus every monday.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! My ACTING RANGE contains state of the art packaging that keeps the hot side hot, and the cool side cool. 'BUT!' I already hear you of Wisconson's Scattagorical Society mumbling with baited breath 'can it help me research?' OF COURSE IT CAN! My ACTING RANGE includes knowledge of any possible act covered in the WSS Charter, INCLUDING the proposed changes from the American Scattagorical Church of Inbred Insurrections (ASCII) which would unify and foster compliance between all major sects domestically and abroad, as far as the orient!
Now you may wonder 'you say:I WANT TO SELL YOU MY ACTING RANGE! but how much is it going to cost me?' Surprisingly little! Although MY ACTING RANGE has been heralded as breath-taking, stunning, dazzling, myopic, awe-inspiring, mediocre and EVEN REVOLUTIONARY! Like Ghandi, I have to eat, and MY ACTING RANGE has become a bit of a burden. Meanwhile my steady hobby of purebread badger-gowns has been consuming what little time I had devoted to MY ACTING RANGE.
$20/OBO
206-463-3211 Leave a message for Schaper, hang up if someone answers.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If I were an angry man, i would make a compelling argument against you. Instead I am left with insurrectible vomit whip.
The more you know, because knowledge is half perspiration and half showing up on time, and the rest is having a heavy petting session with a tree without getting sap all over your pants.
Im really sorry,
GALACTICON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
------------------------------------------------------------
hey lihm!!
u r so waraeru(~o~)
yeah,why u know now im playing wiz with four oven top burnerzz!?
my mutha makes me locked up in a actin ranjj...(sobbin)
"help me,men!!"(bang! bang! bang!)
"im beie~~~~~ving in u gu~~~~~~yz"
(but they r homosexsual)
im tha dying....
however i think im soo happie never ever...
in heaven....
rest in peace...
i got everthing...
luv
------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Vynny!
Happy Birthday! I know you must be very happy on such a joyous day! There are many times in our lives that we must celebrate and because today is celebration, I wrote you a song:
"Happy Birthday Vynny!"
Yo check this shit nigga
im a hard rhymin doin timin 45-to-life nigga
bitch slappin ho-taggin crack dealin nigga
me and my niggas sit in my hood, nigga
bangin, slangin and smackin my hos, nigga
i roll in benzes, street sweepas, nigga
i got so many hos nigga, otha niggas muthafuckas nigga
niggas swipe rhymes i write lines nigga
peddle mad crack gettin my dick suked nigga
muthafuckin bitchass trick hood nigga
bitin my style nigga you betta off dead nigga
nigga my hood all up in my head nigga
shit nigga bitch niggas hos cant front nigga
my cadillac got 20 dubs nigga
bitches see my shit they want in dat nigga
fuck nigga shit nigga why we try nigga
all the babymomma want my dick nigga
i slangin my crack nigga
i shoot niggas nigga
i got so many little niggas niggas scared my army nigga
dont fuck with me nigga you go die soon nigga
peace be out nigga i know my niggas
word nigga
Wasnt that a nice song? I hope you liked it Vynny and I hope you recover soon from your sudden infant death syndrome!
------------------------------------------------------------
Greetings Time Travelers!
This weeks adventure, titled "Gomamechan In the Andes" was written by W.B. Spidermonkey and published under Western Imperialism.
Chapter 6: Gomamechan In the Andes
Gomamechan was tooth-grindingly cold, but could not stop, for the swiss were after him. While it was true that Gomamechan had recently answered the checksheet for menopausal women and found that as a first grader he was in fact almost 10% menopause. Gomamechan knew this was not only by the conspiracy of the swiss, but also his consumption of liquid chinese medicine drugs.
Gomamechan kept on, bitter tooth grinding and all. Remembering his happy former method of making tasty lard by boiling pig intestine, but if there is a way for Gomamechan is best to have head, skin, and organs!
"Use your head Gomamechan," Gomamechan thought, "or soon the swiss will deep sea dive on me." The swiss were known for stealing Gomamechans pink elephants, and also being the espionage center for many planned parenthood meetings. This was not the first time Gomamechan had run afoul of the international children tabulations:
"Then here are the results for the ordinary children today:
1. There is no set time as to when to eat.
2. There is no fixed place to eat.
3. Consume a lot of soft drinks."
This was very worrisome for Gomamechan who lived very close to a convenience store (almost less than 5 minutes!), and even 10 years ago, Gomamechan and other children also commited very serious crimes, before the "exaggerated delusion mania" made Gomamechan wish for the nearsighted "kireru" (which means to snap, as in snap in anger!) kids today, but it is not just here in japan no its everywhere.
Gomamechan heard a sound, it was the swiss! They had found Gomamechan and were closing in! In Gomamechans fear, he remembered: "the fly that bites the tortoise breaks his beak." Of course! Gomamechan remembered that prior to reform school, he had only had a varied meal each day, which is "kireru" very much indeed.
Gomamechan ground his tooth one last time to not be bitter, but he knew the swiss would soon grind their teeth for Gomamechan because Gomamechan would not fail, he was doing his best, like always. "The swiss will end up as a bum, savoring the free time that they couldn't during middle school." Gomamechan thought, and with one strong swoop, he used skills he learned at "natural life selection." The swiss soon learned Gomamechan had the upperhand on their "fake records"
Soon Gomamechan finished the Andes, and was off to better feelings, with or without conbiinii maternal care!
"Thank you Gomamechan", lets all say!
"Its no trouble," says Gomamechan!
------------------------------------------------------------
well, i think i send link again! i think so!
it was so very good to wake todays morning! i think remi has fun time also couch sleeping! It was funky and cruel to abshinthe together, so lets all beer soon? I hope today I live and someday soon Xy will be "re-hymenized"
Thank you,
Goodbye,
Shtumpywanker Tellerbanger
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Gomameliam,
Some time this weekend during the time it took for my aging,
perforated brain to wrap itself around a Rubbermaid food container
containing carrot and celery sticks in water slipped to the back of the
fridge and began to freeze, Gomameliam.
But this is just the beginning.
Ummm... neither as a spectacle of entertainment, nor as a thing to run
away and join, Ive never understood the circus, Gomameliam. I think we
went as a small pound of bloghounds to one when I was a kid, but in
memory it was loud and scarily dark. And nothing out of the scratchy
pound has led me to wonder why there wasnt more circus in it: I spent
the relevant chapter of Gomamechan In the Andes wondering why
Gomamechan was even in the movie. What after all are a tent and some
animals and men dressed as the nearsighted "kireru" compared to the
rich reward of hours spent feasting on sweet, opiate telebison or
clicking from one bloghoundroll to the next, or dozing with a fat
shovel on your face. I ask you.
Having spent most every nonhorizontal moment of the last few months
ensnared in the Project at Hand scowling at the nearsighted "kireru",
blaspheming all the while it barely registered when a few weeks ago
Gomamechan himself mentioned that an Italian circus was coming to my
head, and that hed ordered tickets.
Okaygreatsoundsgood. Clicky clicky scowl scowl.
And boom came the day, yesterday. I was noisily extracted with a shovel
and, with the little redhaired bloghounds and the formidable Gomamechan
nattering in the back seat, we rolled like hillbillies to my cirullian
lobe, down through and past the cluttering absinthe bottles, to the
videoache chamber, out my ear.
(You know that day when, for the first time since the previous movie,
you put your hand in the lawnmower and feel no bite in the air? That
was yesterday.)
Popcorn needs were met, into the big tent and we were seated. Trapeze
martyrs, fractalbrats, mandelbrot gypsies, a smuggler; mercifully only
one clowm. People standing on trolloping horses, small sweatlands
moving in unison, telephants. No Tiggers. A woman who stuck five meat
panquakes at differing rates on her hips. Fire bleating, wire guzzling,
the throwing of wives and tires. Other than the occasional bit of synth
fizzing out of the loudspeakers (and, I suppose, the loudspeakers),
there were practically no concessions to modern entertainment: just
physical skill and timing, and too much fucking makeup.
I loved each and every minute of it. Except for Gomamechan who had some
sort of problem with us taking his front row seat at intermission (you
want impressive, you should see the Vinnilian curse someone out in
French), it was a perfect day out.
Pictures? Surely.
------------------------------------------------------------
Greetings, pundits.
First, before I yield the floor to the standing member of montana, I would like to dispel rumors that, clean shaven, I look 14. This is what I looked like when I was 14. However, in these trying times of moronic irony, it is good to see that physics, the forefront of our knowledge is as reliable as ever.
But I digress, my apparent coherence is simply the chastization of the emeritus of spunky dogs and such. While currently serving my 3-year term, I had the priviledge of reading a recent essay by William Henry Hardison with the title of "I fuck everything," there was a fascinating treatise on the models of ice-skating dander babies? Similarly, the great poet Washington Forsooth sent me the following discourse, telepathically, of course:
"
My Dear Mind-Concubine:
Its called "hedging your bet" people there is nothing wrong with "hedging your bet" yeah you are a real heffer, thats what I like, if you weigh twice as much iI can pretend its a 3-way. If I kill god and praise s/him we can all suffer! Buddah bless you for so many lives, pliers, and manacles.
Back to my original point "hedging your bet" its like liking Billy Oceans music, but not buy Oceans Lotion, BECAUSE you cant respect his carnival escapades. Bad news only travels when you dont "hedging your bet" because then you have no guarantee, look at the biggest fraud in time-travel, george washington, we all know the story of George and the skateboard picker, but the real question is why did heh have no axe to trade FOR a skateboard? This is the earliest case of the worlds (americas) oldest profession: "hedging your bets".
Its small wonder that scumbags like us never grow to reach our full potential, by "hedging your bets" we can EMULATE our fullest potentional and still live like kings of ancient city-ville. Some wonder how they can go about this wonderful process, but its simple to "hedging your bets"! all you must really do is anti-bifurcate each time a descision is posted to you. Doing this regularly will easily make "hedging your bets" second nature, but even still, there will be times when "hedging your bets" is not enough, when this happens, it can be most shrewd to hire a young women for "hedging your bets" style dry and raw, war and wet?
But enough about plain vanilla "hedging your bets", how about some relativistic "hedging your bets"? No i dont think we are far enough into this book to share each day with "hedging your bets"! Its simply put, "hedging your bets" can be both a boon and a condonement, so how can we safely "hedging your bets" and at the same time not run in to the most common complication of "hedging your bets", namely suffereing the consequence of a 3rd party candidate ruiining it for everyone. Well we will have to ask mohammed what s/he thinks about "hedging your bets".
"
Truly this is a disturbing universe...
The 'new' Rutherford P. Cokburn
------------------------------------------------------------
well, in my attempt to promote inter-racial discourse, i came across this "canadian" humor, im not sure if i get the subtleties, but i hope you like it:
A Newfoundlander enters his favorite ritzy log cabin in Toronto and while sitting at his regular drink stand quaffing a molson ice/moosehead cocktail, he noticed a portly woman with strong, child-bearing hips sitting at a table nearby....all alone.
He calls the waiter over and asks for their most expensive bottle of authentic maple syrup to be sent over to her - knowing that if she accepts it, she is his. To seal the deal, he includes a note with his most successful pickup line: "you look good, you look like my terrier."
The waiter gets the bottle and quickly sends it over to the girl, saying 'this is from the homely canuk'. She looks at the syrup and decides to send a note back to the man. The note read: "For me to accept this bottle, you need to have a Wayne Gretzky rookie card, 7 years of serving as a mountie, and a 15 point bucks head."
After reading the note, the Newfoundlander sends one of his own back to her and it read: "Just so you know - my autographed Wayne Gretzky rookie card is in mint condition; plus I have over 10 years mountie experience. But, not even for a barefoot fertility goddess like you, would I cut 7 points off my favorite bucks head. Just send the bottle back."
Chim-chim cheree!
------------------------------------------------------------
Listen Liam,
I think you know that Feral Cheryl is KNOWN as the the anti-Barbie,
fertility godddessa fresh from the rainforests of Northern New Mouth,
Bustiaten. She runs barefoot, dreadlocks her hair with coloured braids
and beads, wears simple-fleshed clothes, has piercings and a range of
tats, and even a bit of natural body hair. She's known for handling
toxic chemical paints, glues, and solvents with bare hands. She sleeps
on fourteen workers per crowded dirty dorm room sharing double level
bunk beds and gets by on four hours sleep a night.
She might just be the girl you're looking for:
http://www.feralcheryl.com.au/guestbook.php?limited=limit%208
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Horrible Void,
I am living with my ex-husband. He tells me that he is not interested
in sex and describes it as " disgusting and gross" . Recently I found a
bottle of liquid incense. The front of the bottle read " jungle juice"
. What is this used for? The other night he came home drunk with a
friend-a man I had never met. He took off his pants and started dancing
in a pair of speedo underwear. All of this strange behaviour is causing
me to think that he could possibly be gay. Help! I asked him if he has
ever had a homosexual encounter, but he denies it. I also found
something he wrote...something about being disgusted with every drunken
homosexual encounter. When he is drunk he talks about it, when he is
straight he denies it up and down. How do I find out if he is gay? I
don't know if he is lying or just trying to shock me.
Signed,
Horrible Lloyd
------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Horrible LloydVoid,
So, I had this dream last night. I met Buddha, it was amazing. He looked at me, and smiled, a wise and spiritual smile. Feeling so humbled, I said, "Buddha, I have questions about your teachings..."
Still smiling, he said "yes, my son, what are they?"
I responded, "I understand that you say existance is suffering, and the root of suffering is deisre, but..."
Calmly, he nodded "Continue, please..."
"Well," I said, "how the fuck did you get so fat? For someone preaching the middle path, and eliminating desire, you sure look like you desired a few too many racks o' mutton, and back in your days, it wasnt like you were living on mcdonalds partially hydrogenated fries and spending 6 hours a day in front of the TV. There was no atkins diet or supermodels, but you got a little more than a beer gut going. You seem to me like your as full of shit as any other religious figure."
Ever unflappable, Buddha winked, and rubbed his oily, sweaty, belly "then, my son, you truly understand, would you like to buy my new scroll: 'the 8 steps of highly enlightened people'?"
Then I kicked his ass.
------------------------------------------------------------
Liam WINS!! Liam always win, not in too much touch with the gas-ball. I fear moon.
Moon like rock, but bright, if sun rock look bright rock like moon rock, hard rock, muthafucka!
So anyway, two breeds of villain are in this world, the ones who can live with out the stuff, and the ones who stuff you and serve you at your own thanksgiving dinner: likely conversation follows.
"Hello, god thank you for feast of man i stuff and eat in his house." Havnt you been one of those killers lately?
In my rare moments, I put on a blonde wig, and pretend I am Leonard Maltin pretending to be Hermann Streissvowel, a very strange man who did not, in fact, exist. As leonard Maltin, though, I am spectacular, and it almost brings a tear to your eye to consider the fact of the matter is nothing beyond any interstitial tissues, no?
P.S.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hello commuters, this isnt just any werewolf story. This is a futuristic werewolf story. One about flying cars, super-duper toasters, and werewolves. Not just any werewolves, though FUTURISTIC werewolves. Werewolves with cybernetic arms and titanium teeth and stuff. So here it is.
It was a dark and stormy night. In the future. Balthsiac, the hero, shuddered in the rain, throwing his long dark hair, measuring over 1 metre in length over his broad shoulders. His bomber jacket was brown, and had a little logo-thing that looked like a dog, or something, only i think it was dead. Because balthaziac was a hunter, but Balthaziac wasnt just any hunter, no, Balthaziac was a werewolf hunter. And tonight he hunted his prey: werewolves. Tonight was different, though, not only was the good weather unusually dark and stormy, but this werewolf was also different. This werewolf was different because it was a futuristic werewolf, or so Balthaziac had heard. Futuristic werewolves arent like normal werewolves that we have today, because, like, in the future, werewolves, like people in the future, have stuff added in to them.
Balthaziac had been "hot on the trail" of this future werewolf for a long time. He heard about it in the mean streets of detroit, while in a taxi, talking to the taxi driver. The taxi driver wasnt a futuristic werewolf, he was just a regular person with cyber-arms, with an android for a wife. And he was talking to Balthaziac about sports and stuff when Balthaziac accidentally said that he was a werewolf hunter.
"Im a werewolf hunter," Balthaziac accidentally said.
"Really? Have you heard about the werewolf of the future?" The taxi-driver with the cyber-arms and android wife in the glovebox said.
"Well, i usually dont tell people, but what is the 'werewolf of the future'" Balthaziac the werewolf hunter said.
"Well, i just gave it a ride to a menacing dark alley north of here, it was just like a normal werewolf, only it had future stuff, like.... "
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cari ̔ :
but what is the "stuff added in to them?" the werewolves i mean...the futuristic ones.
liam ̔ :
you know, stuff...like cyber-arms, and eyes with video cameras and cellphones in their feet
liam ̔ :
yknow, like stuff people in the future would have...
cari ̔ :
that's it? no built in dvd player? are their feet webbed?
liam ̔ :
this is the FUTURE im talking about DVD players are so 2001
cari ̔ :
i'm slow....you asshole
liam ̔ :
a werewolf with webbed feet?
cari ̔ :
sure
liam ̔ :
i guess that would help it swim
cari ̔ :
won't we all have webbed feet in the future
liam ̔ :
but it would have to be cyber webbing
liam ̔ :
with, like, computer chips to make it swim better
but what does that have to do with werewolves?
cari ̔ :
werewolves need to swim in the sludge! how are they gettin around town and stuff? taking the metro?? hell no. not in this thick soupy mess
liam ̔ :
well, werewolves can take taxis...
cari ̔ :
oh wait, there's taxis? just started re reading the stuff. sorry
liam ̔ :
yeah
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....cyber-webbed feet and and video-cameras for eyes" said the sensible taxi-driver replacing the batteries in his android wife in the glove compartment with one muscley cyber-arm and making a good left turn with the other.
"i implore, you," said Balthaziac, "take me to where you last saw this future werewolf," he brandished his werewolf patch, "for you see, I am a werewolf hunter!"
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cari ̔ :
how do they pay the fare? taxis every time?
liam ̔ :
future werewolves have atms in their chest
cari ̔ :
what's that?
liam ̔ :
ATMs? they are futuristic machines that dispense money
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"OK," said the futuristic taxidriver, now holding the steering wheel with both cyber-arms because he needed all the concentration he could muster for this intense flying car chase, a werewolf, on foot, from the future. By the way in the future, all cars fly.
"actually I knew you were a werewolf hunter before you brandished your werewolf hunter ID picture," said taxi-driving man of the future.
"how?" asked balthaziac said.
"you told me." remarked the taxidriver, pointing smartly at his titanium future teeth with his giant cyber-arm.
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cari ̔ :
so in the future there are werewolves taking taxis making calls with their phone feet and paying everyone in twenties. WHO ARE THEY TALKING TO AND WHERE ARE THEY GOING? i'm having some trouble with this story
liam ̔ :
it seems to me like you get it just fine
cari ̔ :
do they wear clothes? capes?
liam ̔ :
a werewolf in a cape? are you even paying attention? Balthaziac has a leather jacket though....
cari ̔ :
i didn't read the first bit you sent over. i'm lost. what is balt? is he a regular guy or is he android?
liam ̔ :
balthaziac is a werewolf hunter
cari ̔ :
is the detroit taxi a flashback or are we right there with them?
liam ̔ :
i dont remember
cari ̔ :
come on man! get this story together!
cari ̔ :
is detroit a big hub in the future now that they are producing the flying-model cars?
liam ̔ :
detroit was is and ever shall be, the detroit taxi scene is a flashback to how he ended up in the alley chasing the werewolf of the future
cari ̔ :
ok, who's telling this story? are we seeing the flashback through the eyes of balthaziac?
liam ̔ :
IM TELLING THE GODDAMN STORY!
liam ̔ :
balthaziac is a character, its all told in the third person
cari ̔ :
ok, i'm pickin up what you're puttin down...i'm smellin what you're cookin...i'm caught up now
liam ̔ :
ok
cari ̔ :
did you change your font? it's all teeny tiny and default-y looking
liam ̔ :
hmmm, i dont think so
cari ̔ :
well. i don't know what to say about that
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It was an intense car chase, the taxi driver almost crashed a couple of times, but he was a good driver, lots of times taxi drivers are good drivers because they drive all day, even though people make jokes that they arent, i saw this thing on fox about it once, but then also, like in the future, cyber-arms help them drive.
They got to the alley, Balthaziac cooley dropped some future money out of his credit-wallet of the future, he was running low , but after he emptied the atm of the future werewolf he would have more uhhh...future money.
Balthaziac stood at the entrance of the alley, which was dark and scary.in the distance he heard a howl, but it sounded like it hi-tech computer howl,
"it must be the future werewolf," balthaziac thought. He drew his silver garlick steak.
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cari ̔ :
steak? garlick?
liam ̔ :
you really dont know anything about future werewolves, do you?
cari ̔ :
that's why i'm reading your story
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He walked slowly down the alley, using his ninja skills to make him quieter. Steak ready in hand, aged to perfection,
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cari ̔ :
silver meat was drawn. this is what you're telling me.
liam ̔ :
precisely
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Then, in the corner, he heard a soft, mechanical panting, doing a giant ninja jump he used his skills to stop just in time. It was only a harmless swiss mecha-cat, setting its alarm clock. The cat looked surprised, like someone who walked in the door at a surprise party, and was surprised. Then it ran away.
"Then, where is the werewolf?" thought Balthaziac to himself, careful to stay quiet like a ninja.
Suddenly, the future werewolf jumped down in front of him. It was even scarier than you thought, it was like a normal werewolf, but it had the cyber-arms, video-camera eyes, an atm chest, titanium teeth AND claws, and its feet were silver garlick steaks, thus rendering it immune to balthaziacs silver garlick steaks...are you as scared as me?
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cari ̔ :
yes i am terrified.
liam ̔ :
good, you should be
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The future werewolf was also 7 metres tall.
Balthaziac, was scared shitless, and by that I mean, all his shit was in his pants instead of in his stomach or the toilet, where shit usually is.
The futuristic werewolf reared its head, and gave a really scary future-mecha-roar. But then Balthaziac remembered his secret weapon....the super-duper toaster!
It was a long battle with lots of jumping up and down and shouting and stuff, but then Balthaziac plugged the toaster in to the wall of the alley, and held it where the futuristic werewolf thought that Balthaziac (the werewolf hunter, remember?) would have his head, instead, and then the super-duper toasters werewolf shocking feature kicked in. And the werewolf died.
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cari ̔ :
then what?
liam ̔ :
im getting to it...
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Then Balthaziac took the money on his futuristic credit wallet, but then he saw the werewolfs wallet, and the picture of his future werewolf family, and futurewerewolf kids, and looked at the pained tearful expression of the werewolf that he just killed for money.
For the first time in his life, Balthaziac cried, and said out loud to the world "Whose the real monster here?!?!?!?!"
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cari ̔ :
how tragic
liam ̔ :
(i wonder if james joyce had to deal with this much critical sarcasm when he wrote Ulysses)
cari ̔ :
yea probably
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THE END... ?
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liam ̔ :
well, thats my novel, its everything i hoped it would be, and more
cari ̔ :
i met you '96? i've read a lot of your stories. this one is a bit of a departure for you. there's a lot more happening in it, but you're usually much better setting it up. more descriptive. and it's set in the future. that's new
liam ̔ :
I know, this one is all about action, I really envisioned it being a blockbuster, usually its in the past with swords and wizards and stuffbut iwas trying not to be too literary this time, that stuff has trouble getting translated in to a big-budget blockbuster
cari ̔ :
yeah, do you want to be harry potter or morpheus? i get it. i still think you need some webbed feet thrown in there, well, i included your running commentary in the final version; its very post-modern
cari ̔ :
neat.
liam ̔ :
yeah, it also makes it much longer, its the same technique steven king uses
cari ̔ :
i hate steven king
liam ̔ :
well, only because he includes your running commentary in his books to make them longer, his books are every bit as good as my future werewolf story
cari ̔ :
no yours is better.
liam ̔ :
well, it has werewolves in it...
cari ̔ :
i don't usually like genre-stuff
liam ̔ :
right, but this is like, a cross-genre, because the werewolves are in the future, that was my premise "what if werewolves were in the future," i cover it in the introduction
cari ̔ :
it's too short to call a novel
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Hello, my sons,
Enough werewolfdom, talk of extreme shades, the virus bottled up inside jar of phleg[m.
There is more to life than a wiglet pushed under the bar without her wig and...even staplers have wings sometimes.
I have found a way to describe the stars, and I'll never tell it to you.
The junsui innocent chambers of flesh have harps for each of you, the wind is a liar, the face buried in puddl[e is just mi[ki rorke, an ember in gods furnace.
A carbuncle [is found.
The wind is what, oh, nothign[ but a drunken liar!
Twilight will take your confessions and deliver them to Heemroid Fetrol, the diary of stars embryos.
The Russian beat the 37 year oild man but his eye bled.
The people who watch you are built exactly so that they look like they arent watching you...
Mikkkey Rourke is Sin! OJisan! Ojisan, I am a winter with no Snow, a flagrant violation of the sex between two peoplke looking for just a quick huffpuff!
Havw fun, but dont be leery,
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Hello Cannonballs!
Its September again and minstrels run through the gardens, harping and cursing their bawdy broadway productions of local favorites! I was watching an italian shef on tv last night and decided that I want to be just like that: 1. motivated 2. happy-go-lucky about cooking 3. confident that my pillar will not bend and I can hold up several things like plates, at once.
Its September again and tiny arteries are glistening in the mudpuddles! I can scream at the ground, I can scream at the sky, but what do I find out? I find that the best anyone can hope for is TONSILITIS!
You knew I would work back to it. Its the single most moistest moisty pasty macy's day parade since the real thing! Its the clingy little wing that cant be ripped off, even while stepping off the bird. Mashwingers, you too have no idea how perplexing it is to feel everything at once, to be hidden away from daylight in a sickbed, under the covers, waiting for a slow walker to come by so you can up jump and plug her!
I say! Its September again and tiny fantasies are, once again, making their way into my sick and ecologically jungular wafting mind. My mind wafts in and out of my ear on my little inept breaths! Its more than even Eishtein could plunder from the Abyssinian collection in the British museum with a glasscutter, cutting circles in all the frame protectors. He puts his gloved paw into the cut hole and WHAM! theres something he didnt expect! TONSILITIS!
gotta go!
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You are my white Isis, i tell you things. You love to hear it. Each word that comes from my mouth is like poetry...errr...pottery.
I said something once to you that i think it was misunderstood, dont you remember? It was a full moon we sat out by the promenade, toasting vintage wine from my extensive collection. The lulling roar of the nearby ocean was our seranade and the soft cooing of the nearby nest of woodchucks rippled through your hair. It was a breathtaking moment.
Then, stupidly, I asked: "BUY MY INSURANCE!"
Its a mistake I often make and am now left to stew in the shower of my discontent. Please realize it was just a misunderstanding. I wouldnt force it on you, but you have to realize, every sign you made just made me think you wanted it. If you didnt, then why did you lead me on? Your suggestive clothes, flirtatious eyeing, the way you giggled at my numerous witticisms, they all said to me: "i want a double indemnity non waivable policy covering accidental loss of life or limb due to fire, earthquake, and pirate pillaging." How was I to know you were thinking of something else. You think that wine grows on trees, bitch? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? BUY MY FUCKING INSUARANCE!
There I go again, im sorry, i sometimes lose control. Its just that, as a child, my parents were uninsured, and I vowed to be something other than them when I grew up. It hurts me to see someone as dynamic and virtuous as you go without being insured. I would hate to lose you over what seems like an irreconcilable difference. But if it doesnt work, can we at least be friends?
yours,
N
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