Wednesday, February 15, 2012

howdy pards long time no blabbery spout of gibberal communal water fountain that you hate and love and fill up your fake red plastic gun with its power and shoot out over the corn field you've been trying to forget since you were 9 years old. ah, the hands, they hover, they speed, they cry, they bleed, they need movement, solioquies on grecian urns yet uncovered, trees yet climbed, rocks yet clambered upon, the atlantian ideals that our forefathers and aft-uncles saw when they jumped off that boat, swam to shore, dodged a couple bullets and made their way into the forest, never before heard nor seen again from society at large until they showed up in that town with the funny glasses and the scragly beard. the look in their eyes said no quick movements within this feller's vicinity, or shit could get strange. the certain type of respect or lack thereof that this engendered thus forsooth and forthwith started a town of brethren that saw fit to prescribe within their own brains similar medications, known and unknown, physical and metephorical. they'd drunk the applesauce, ate the kool-aid, as it were, and found not a maniacal powerhungry demigod but a simple man fond of simple pleasures that that yearned for a simpler time before simple simon had met that pie-man and fucked it all up with his thumb in that dyke or some shit like that. the specifics didn't really matter, if you thought long enough the answer would come, correct, incorrect, it didn't matter, as long as wheels were in motion and thus came from the fruit of dude's loins a lasting settlement that they all accepted was def leppardville. the end.