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Perhaps I have failed to adequately express my horror if you thought
I was describing the incident in a spirit of mirth.
I was planning on continuing my theme at length here, but I think
I'd best leave it at this. Of course- as always- if someone would
care to temper my effusive meanderings with actual discussion before
the monologue quickly snowballs into ever more expansive stretches of
complete logorrehic evacuation wherein pompously turned phrases and
vague impressions and associations are shoehorned into run-on
sentences with the structural integrity of Galloping Gertie, by all
means be my guest.
Be forewarned however; if a man does wish upon The True Name of
God, and if a man does see that wish come to pass, the wish will
backfire in in ironic and unexpected ways.
There is a window to the machinations of genius and not one of us
fails to have been chilled.
Stories tapered off into mumbling only to be punctuated-
inexplicably- by "God bless America!" The scary thing was that he was
wearing a stars and stripes motif windbreaker-- like he was on a book
tour or something, promoting this book _God Bless America!_.
Hey, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean you can't be a
little slow on the uptake.
Demographics are born in a state of lukewarm entropy and are
everywhere stratified.
Of course, manly men such as I lack the gay-person-sensing capacity
that is needed to make any absolute determinations in matters of this
sort.
Ok, Einstein, now that we've met real people and have experienced
real life, *WHERE WILL WE TALK ABOUT IT?*
A 2" rubbery glow-in-the-dark Chewbaca figurine that my sister
bought from a vending machine. For some reason, there's a large hole
between his legs that reaches up into his abdomen, and when you
squeeze him, his Chewbaca vagina makes a smacky-smacky noise.
Look Ma, my mind Ps and Qs in two directions at the same time!
I remember being confused about this as a child; as an adult I am
still unsure if this avoidance of snow is supposed to reflect some
greater human truth in the mind of the author or if we're just
supposed to sympathize with the way the Timbertons find strength in
family when something like a snowfall- mundane as it is to us- is a
matter of life and death to a family made of untreated wood.
That's right, "equilibrain". Not the left brain, not the right
brain, not the old brain, not the new brain, not the dream brain, not
the phonics brain, but the "equilibrain"-- the equilibrium brain. Not
only is a more aggressively bozotic concept not to be had, but leave
it to my twisted, spiteful dream brain to produce a word that so
utterly confounds pronunciation as "equilibrain".
The contents of a fortune that is *found*, I reasoned, must be far
more binding than those of a fortune that is simply whorishly
dispensed to any paying customer.
Thank you so very very much Stacia for so thoughtfully eliding the
punchline to my joke which made it clear that WE WERE REFERRING TO
BEABLE'S PEANUS AND NOT MINE! MANLY... ATTEMPT AT... MOCKING...
ANOTHER MAN'S... MANHOOD RAPIDLY...BACKFIRING... IN... OWN FACE!!!
Today, while wearing a comically oversized sombraro, Carol Grow said
she couldn't think. I'll do all your thinking for you, baby. All I
ask for is some of that Search Party money, and a lifetime of scenic
resorts all blending into eachother in the gauzy recollections of a
diseased mind. The implants would be like frosting.
We may disagree on the specifics, but we are united in our belief
that things are terribly wrong, and have all the strength of our egos
to demonstrate how terribly wrong things are.
IF YOU TUG REALLY HARD ON YOU PEANUS, IT WILL GET LONGER!
Your latent disgust with me is the gun, all the stupid things I've
said is the bullet, all that's missing... is YOU!
as my natural reaction would to gawk and say something to the effect
of "DUH HURR HURR YER BIKINI FELLDED OFF DUH HURRR."
Now snap on your streaming-video porn muzzle, we're going to
witness... a photorealistic rendering of Hannity and Combes
french-kissUNSUBSCIRBE.
In other news, be sure to celebrate National Fail To Recognize
Genius Week. There are some dioramas at your local public library
depicting people from many different historical eras failing to
recognize genius, but they're just OK.
When you have completed your grammar quiz, feel free to make a big
production out of resting your head on your desk so everybody knows
as much.
Assuming the worst, an insane nightmare father as well; "Hurr, I
know what boys yer age think about, hurr hurr."
In other news, Spielberg, after three intensive weeks of
preproduction, is currently working on "Eyes Wide Shut II: The Legend
of Curly's Gold."
I fill your lives with the beauty, and you kick me in the balls.
:(~ <-- BOOLD RUNNIGN FROM MOUTH AFTER REPEADEDLY KICKED IN
BALLS!!
Just as precise words are the natural result of a lifetime of
consistent, vague unease, so too is sprawling, bombastic language the
natural result of a lifetime of intermittent paroxysms of anger and
indignance.
The start-up screen is blue-green and the task bar under the Mac
OS logo is blue-green. It's the ultimate realization of the iMac
philosophy;-- the user can't even be trusted with a color *scheme*.
FEEL FREE TO GAWK AT MY PROUD, MANLY PEACOCK'S PLUME OF COMEDY,
DAMMIT!
I promise you, one of these days a gang of toughs is going to
wander onto his property and they're not gonna find his old-timey,
thumbs-tucked-under-the-suspenders bit *nearly* as endearing as I do.