DEAR GOD!

An abundant Bible page has stolen my identity you say. THose trecherous swine, I shall let the gates of zu zu bolin devoure their very ear follicles! And a briefcase you say? Only if we get to go out West in a pink convertable with the ol boys and Chompo the monkey-hippo!

Recipe, From Somwhere In TV Land, pt. 3

10% white wine+ 13% French ligure= a whhhhoooollle lotta fun!

FUCK Jared.....fat fuck, more meat is more important than less fat you off diet fuck. The goths at bonnaroo let me know... yeah they turned you in. Sang like shiva damn cannaries! You've let us all down. But not as much as Chompy has.....damn cruisaders. Hmm, Cruisaders, cheerleaders, cheers, norm, dani davito, midget penis, jackass 2, anal seepage, Johnny Depps acting career, made up language, the residents, constantinople, first money trade, Hamilton, Hamilton died in a duel.....GASP! THE GRASSY KNOWEL! It's time to get Leary, I'm too close to the truth, I need to turn out! Like Timmy when he had too much of the chilling russian.....gay....

From Somewhere in TV Land pt. 2

There’s something that rekindles the memories of a pyromaniac when he inhales the Lysol which he franticly sprays its scent to overpower the sound of himself vomiting, all done in vein. A harmonica plays in the other room as I tremble trying to figure out where I’m headed. No matter as long as there’s a streetlight there.
What’s captivating about the TV. We find our fix for relief in the ever watchful eye, sending memories of splendid experiences into our minds; experiences we’ve never truly had. But we might as well have, seeing as the Clerks had them for us, or lacquer there of. Gaffigan packs as I stare at my self in the mirror; shifting in and out of my own skin. A jellyfish much be pulsing inside my eyes, obscuring my vision, making the experience even more so. I’m soo tired as I fall back into the recliner. Stavn’ Chain would itch slap me had he known I stole his Count Cholula. Cabbage babies dance in my metaphorical lawn, speaking of which: when in the history of lawns has there ever been any type of lawn other than a front lawn. So why is it so dire for some primal individuals to use both of their tendency brain cells to spit out the useless “front”.
57 is a good number for when your drunk. Applause. It’s going on one as I find that it’s near impossible to blink simultaneously anymore. At least I’m not on a quest to find my pants after having watched a sufficient quantity of porn. I wish I needed reading glasses. I also wonder the reason we find odd advertisements humorous. Could it be that we are in some ways prejudgment of individual add figments? Maybe the rat advertisement guy was mentally handicap, and did think of this revolutionary way to get his name in the source. Who are we to judge such a bohemian maverick who may have issues with the simple strategizing and solving?
My retard of a dog barks as the freezer makes ice. Is that another invention we really need? Everyone always refrigerates their beverages now, do we need ice? For what abrasions to the epidermis? We have those toxic blue slurpy in a Ziplocs for that. And if we don’t have that cause for the series of deaths across the nation amongst three year olds and retarded thirty year olds. Then use cold meet, spam works….. Stravinsky liked to eat baby shit.

From Somewhere in TV Land pt. 1

The worlds gone black outside. A mauve air brushes its promiscuous fingers of chilled velvet across my window. Inside I dab my brain with a moist glass of wine. It's better to be a wino than a drunk. For a drunk dies, much like my grandfather, in a bed of one's own filth, crying a somber note of utter realization of a wasted life. At lest when your liver gives out from years of absorbing mediocre wine your sure to go out with a slice of dignity. I sit and reflect now. Sanctuary peaks as I recall the day gone past, wasted in a menagerie of Simpsons episodes, and megalomania's that Nick would soon come with our ticket to domination of the human race; an act carried out with burritos and phillies. There's a home made chillum made from a chess pawn sitting in my brief case. The remnants are as one could conclude as miscellaneous in nature, and arouse the up most confusion as to the reason for inclusion in our brief waft of life. I vomited only once; after realizing that white wine mixed with French liquor and gas-station hot coco isn't a good combination. My kitchen sink found that out too. I think I'll smash some Ritalin, put it in a ginseng bottle and prepare it for consumption on a date which is yet to be located, desired, perceived, or needed. But some day it will make for an anecdote to a slow day, and the medicated passenger and I will be headed into an ambush of wounded knee proportions. Our faces will illuminate as if florescent in nature and give off a hue of scarlet which would put the face of a modest young chap who has came early in his ovulating gal' by mistake to shame, (that is on a list of red faces "shitfaces-terrified".) There’s some obscene brutal home video of a couple in a trailer park poking in their meth lab suite of a home. I find out as the plot unfolds that the bitch is dead now. Some autopsy thing on the Home Box Office. We'll see where it goes after I find out why my stomach feels hot.

Ralphy-boy expllains Gonzo...

Gonzo makes you feel good. Banzo makes you feel bad. It's Ralph's "simple equation." Not even Hunter knew that...

Let's all give him a big round of applause...

Time to go back-

SO I hope eveyone had a decent first day back. We'll permiate the bitterly meager winter months with time. Soon we'll bask in jovial warmth of the soon to come summer, once we haggerdly pass the foul winter.