Tuesday, March 15, 2011


The kids are still totally ok. Zoltans magical kick dance wasn't accepted but he didn't deserve it. The rabbit stayed below the lip. Sausages. Pizza. Pasta. Rum. Fat fucking rednecks. B Shaw knew I'd cross his ass up if he didn't sign my cappy. Pellets. Sushi. Spit box. Obama is my mother-father-sister-brother and god. Beards. No beards. Transistor radios covered in leather. Traffic. Salads at 30. Get buff or die trying. Get rich or die lying. Pluck my heart strings all yall want. They can be retuned. Dress up and tell me a story. Reality is way more fucked up than video games.

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