Wednesday, May 21, 2003

metacycle motorcycle. Do you understand, Laura Kessler? It’s very important. Where was your husband and where were you on the night of Tuesday March the 31st of (what) that’s not right? Who are you some kind of fuckin masterstized dinosaur from the planet zomatrix? Hellz nah. Ain’t happenin ace.

Mind riding. Imagine if your cerebrum could be properly equipped to actually disassociate from your body and ride in the nether the way that Pinocchio and his step-brother will ferrel’s cousin’s dog Alexander once told me, you never know with an Irish brew full of bassethound fuel. Literally, that’s what he said & I have no idea at all in the name of all fuckness what the hell he really meant by that. Not one inkling.

I just blew a shitload of dustified mites of magnetism in my mouse and it is working like a champion on acid reflux disease. But it’s good in case you don’t know that very common term. It doesn’t make you stupid just ignorant. And ignorance when handled with common sense can usually get you through any jam with a minimal amount of violence and or tension from either party because raymi said so.

So the other thing I was gonna tell you guys was that tarzan and his tiger named zamboa kool keith Johnson just ran through here like an Ethiopians stomach train and suddenly that um zamboa guy, totally like did a chicken dance. He was literally and figuratively (in his traditional dress and eating a snickers bar) called out for the chicken of savage holiness to bless this town and thus drunken mound of slizzard piss.

So find some fukn meaning in that if you will.