Friday, August 13, 2004

Michael Shelley has a Beeeeyoutiful Penis.

Truly, madly, deeply:
(O, my friends)
The truth is out there.

But act now! Supplies are going fast! Limited availability.

Tonight, many electronic deer were slain in the name of truth, culture-jamming, and therapeutic (but not whislt 'in therapy') energy diversion. When they go down, it breaks your heart and masturbates your libido.


Die, electronic deer. Die in anguish as we bemoan the lack of efficacy in protesting. Wherefore art thou, o non-partisan culture-jamming? Let's fuck with the bad guys? There are millions of anarchists ready to do that. Fuck with the good guys? But they're ... us ... only they still care. But it's so easy to mindfuck the liberal and so hard to mindfuck the conservatives because the conservative mind is obtuse and impenetrable and logic can't penetrate the numbness.

The fake wedding ring -- friends, what say we? Vis a vis last night's ringcheck chataqua, what does the left-hang ring-finger band say? Does it say, "I'm safe, I'm not flirting with you?" Or does it day, "I'm safe, feel free to flirt." Or does it instantly diametrically oppose "sleazy." Is married the antithesis to sleazy?

Just wondering.

Beware, Macy's! Avast, we pirates shall pillage, seeking faux-registation for the sheer adventure of getting to wave the registration gun through yonder treasures!

Just for fun. How many times can we register? Will we have to wear costumes like the Canal Street spies? Sounds rad, sounds plaid, sounds like Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mama's Hung You in the Kitchen and I'm Feeling So Sad.

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