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Saturday, February 23, 2008

tell me, its ok

Plainly it is not the same. Wells deep and screaming up to heaven to a god, godless. Television does some awkward things to possession, I saw it in subtitles in the bar while I drank Budweiser, which by principle I don’t, I discovered soon after the PBR tall cans for five dollars. In the past buying them from my friend at a bar no one particularly liked she was the best at being cute and slanging drinks, and wailing through the static.

Castro is a man I don’t know, beard and exploding cigars aside, he served as a demon, for children. Rafts deflate miles from the shore and refugees make the water home. Let not, lets not go there. Some friends are in some way giving themselves into frustration, long forgotten since I lost my gloves and smoked to many cigarettes, of the non-exploding nature.

Matt is sarcastic enough and a good panel man. Bill Maher though not all the time funny, is worth rallying behind, I understand that McCain is old, that is humourus in context. Hillary’s husband got a blowjob from an intern, really though, who hasn’t, been blown or blown, whether it be prime opportunity or money or enough of enough. Barack if I had to guess will be standing, when what’s done is done, I think so because, he makes the most each day.

Everything about firing a missal into space to destroy a satellite is stupid, assnine on every conceivable level. This does come from a man (myself) or a guy more comfortably (myself) who does not believe in space. Me and John Locke agree on that level, faith and stretching miles of space don’t seem to sleep. Wallpaper so far away in a place that if relevant, will not exist for me, I see it, someday I may believe it. But stars and satellites and moons and planets and galaxies and black holes and wormholes and spaceships, all of it, is retarded and unworthy of our time.

Me and Parker are better than other people who do what we want to do, laughable and adorable are the shows I see that will never last, they will never hold or produce anything, they will never, until the pin drops and the remains, the carcass is butchered. So thank you ‘New Amsterdam’ and ‘Eli Stone’ for crushing my dreams and pushing me to smoke, with shaking locks and bowed head.

Well thanks for nothing, I am owed of course, so please leave the pot roasts and casseroles and money and book deals on the doorstep.

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