There was much axe-whacking and keyboard-slapping yesterday which also brought numbolisity in me strummish wing, the non-busted wing. This is numbulosity to the no-typing point because me digits ain't diggin' so this yields a wtf situation of unusual dimension.
The axe-whacking continued hard up until the Silas fell to the sofa last nightish but there's no remindingness of numbolisity in the morningness now.
(Ed: did that mean anything?)
Yah, sure it did. Whatever causes that is a weird combination of things. It's intermittent and hard play does not by itself trigger it ... so it don't mean doodley squat.
There was early with the Raven and I asked him about his greenness, not his skin but his room. It was interestingness but he said he does not use it for photographology and I would be surprising if it worked, except on one plane. Any angle in the surface means instantly two colors or keys.
(Ed: are you even trying to speak proper English?)
I've seen texting. Do you really think it would make a difference if I did use the Queen's English properly?
(Ed: prob'ly not)
More newsish is the song because it bubbles cheerfully like fudge which the tribe is brewing but which has to be volcanic hot at one stage of that for reasons which we have no idea. We like volcanic and definitely in this song so fudge and rock present a nexus of high-calorie goodness.
(Ed: high-calorie makes you fat!)
Eating too much makes you fat. Fudge is just fine, homebre, and don't you be fuckin' with this skinny guy's share of it neither.
From the actual news bunk, we didn't find nothin'. It only reminded me of when I called some CDC technicians 'rat bastards' and got away with it. This was all-out Samuel Jackson ... these CDC motherfuckers tell me three disk drives I prepped have all crashed by lunch-time because of volcano dust from fucking Mt Saint Helens. Those worthless rat bastards should jump into that volcano or, better yet, let's chuck those motherfuckers in there.
Management was not pleased (shrug).
We have been sighting lots of privileges flying about. There's yer white privilege, yer man privilege, karaoke privilege, and yer ...
(Ed: whoa, whoa, whoa, what's karaoke privilege?)
That's when Kaley Cuoco does lip-sync karaoke like a white girl Milli Vanilli and they put her on the first page of CNN.
(Ed: yer white privilege is when Ammon Bundy does terrorist things but cops don't unload their magazines into his arrogant ass?)
That's one example of it but there are many.
(Ed: so what's yer man privilege?)
That's when men get paid more than women for doing the same thing. This is where you get into yer privilege poofery because some believe this privilege is real but don't believe white privilege is real and, ooh, they just love Kaley Cuoco.
Fuckin' people. We should send those cranks a CARE package full of monkeys because it doesn't look they ever have any fun.
(Ed: the monkeys?)
Nah, the cranks.
The axe-whacking continued hard up until the Silas fell to the sofa last nightish but there's no remindingness of numbolisity in the morningness now.
(Ed: did that mean anything?)
Yah, sure it did. Whatever causes that is a weird combination of things. It's intermittent and hard play does not by itself trigger it ... so it don't mean doodley squat.
There was early with the Raven and I asked him about his greenness, not his skin but his room. It was interestingness but he said he does not use it for photographology and I would be surprising if it worked, except on one plane. Any angle in the surface means instantly two colors or keys.
(Ed: are you even trying to speak proper English?)
I've seen texting. Do you really think it would make a difference if I did use the Queen's English properly?
(Ed: prob'ly not)
More newsish is the song because it bubbles cheerfully like fudge which the tribe is brewing but which has to be volcanic hot at one stage of that for reasons which we have no idea. We like volcanic and definitely in this song so fudge and rock present a nexus of high-calorie goodness.
(Ed: high-calorie makes you fat!)
Eating too much makes you fat. Fudge is just fine, homebre, and don't you be fuckin' with this skinny guy's share of it neither.
From the actual news bunk, we didn't find nothin'. It only reminded me of when I called some CDC technicians 'rat bastards' and got away with it. This was all-out Samuel Jackson ... these CDC motherfuckers tell me three disk drives I prepped have all crashed by lunch-time because of volcano dust from fucking Mt Saint Helens. Those worthless rat bastards should jump into that volcano or, better yet, let's chuck those motherfuckers in there.
Management was not pleased (shrug).
We have been sighting lots of privileges flying about. There's yer white privilege, yer man privilege, karaoke privilege, and yer ...
(Ed: whoa, whoa, whoa, what's karaoke privilege?)
That's when Kaley Cuoco does lip-sync karaoke like a white girl Milli Vanilli and they put her on the first page of CNN.
(Ed: yer white privilege is when Ammon Bundy does terrorist things but cops don't unload their magazines into his arrogant ass?)
That's one example of it but there are many.
(Ed: so what's yer man privilege?)
That's when men get paid more than women for doing the same thing. This is where you get into yer privilege poofery because some believe this privilege is real but don't believe white privilege is real and, ooh, they just love Kaley Cuoco.
Fuckin' people. We should send those cranks a CARE package full of monkeys because it doesn't look they ever have any fun.
(Ed: the monkeys?)
Nah, the cranks.
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