The Obscure
Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of an inferior mind!Tuesday, January 18, 2005
We have just landed and we are here representing the Association of Funk Diplomacy. Turns out roughly five hundred lustful women find my body to be the loveliest thing ever crafted by 17th century architects; the votes are in and my landlord has been dragged out into the street and shot!
Terrible magnificence! Lonely boys and los lonelilos burritos deathstab! Furry hobos of utter damnation have witnessed my deformed mass and I myself have seen it pegged to the walls of my intellectual FURY!
How is everyone tonight? I have taken a heavy dose of OBSOLESCENCE! And can not currently string thoughts together in a way that can be weighed the way normal ways from far far away can wear a tuxedo. Pr0n!
So, why am I updating this tortilla of flame retardant lonesharks, you ask?
TRUNCATED!
No, I am just amusing myself at the expense of others. But isn't that what Satrinsday is all about? I remember as a youth I had a great interest in Norse mythology, an interest that was burnt out of my VERY EYES by the dark allure of hometown texan cooking and a hearty beefsteak.
Phony Calls and Several Y'alls, and all the serious multiplication devices therein. The Clone Wars are not shaping up to what the minds of many men have understood them to be thus far.
So you say! But I have a different viewpoint media player, from which I can understand the collective soul of the white community as is, no strings attached for only 29.95 on this special TV offer. Dance with me this monday at 8, because it is the last time my legs will move. Rust pervades, invades, and degrades my systems and my body gives in nightly to it's grabby fingers. JOHN THE LEGISLATOR! And my OWN terrible destruction thrown at the fragile minds of my contemporaries have voted unanimously to suck the juice out of every piece of the 7/11 sweetmeats that have rained down on our weak dome-shaped heads for all of the awning length of my love-affair with the millennia. Tell me why, finally, that you can't understand my lust for self-destruction and my terrible fear of women, feet, happiness, and handshakes! This description of my rancid, rapid, thought patterns is over! The diaspora have regrouped and are hurling bricks at us and all we can do is super-size our damn meals for 49 cents, so to hell with my fantatical attachment to society!
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