Monday, August 16, 2010

Slipstreams of Chasms unto Euphoric Dysotopia

A cornucopia of black ooze beckons the heralding tripod over the sunset. Desperately, the tin man runs through the sacks of molten honeydew to find the blackened leaf. Overtly this leads to a cascading power failure which soon brings about the destruction of the entire Vogon race. We can only conclude that dishwasher soap is the only solution. As it was suggested, dogs are the best at capturing wild Pichu since our experience shows that mysterious orbs of light emanating from the warp coil plasma injectors might destabilize the inertial dampeners. God took man from the dust, which cannot be a simple thing, as all unicorns are bred asexually.

From time to time we find that a great movie like Napolean Dynamite breaks its way through the cluttered mess of crap and makes its way to the mountain of the Yellow Dellow. Mr. Chesterton concurs with my assessment of Bolian plague, but for some reason we couldn't come to agree on the cause of the broken light bulb. After absentmindedly mentioning political office, Senator Barackus Obamas Failedus pointed out that a lanister was not suited for such breast suckling. The time to act was now, and all we had was a pair of tweezers and a diamond ring. We took a condom and wrapped it around Paul until his entire head was covered in bubble gum. The planned parenthood scheme worked and, for once in my life, I felt like a Douche King again.

It's not often that we have legends in our pissed. Seldom do the words of such loathsome creatures such as William Shatner grace the stages of Del Monstro. Captured and alone, Doc Holliday and I were sipping on some fire whiskey when Darmok and Jalad joined us at Tanagra. Pools of skittles and beef jerky as far as the eye could stretched before him. Elated, the girl ran to her father and exclaimed, "I'm a real boy now!" We can tell by the shape of the pear that God was in fact not meaning for His children to be slaves to their Creator, rather that they would choose for themselves. How then can a man be free from miasmas and foaming chocolate lipstick? Perhaps it would be better to ask how to lick the orchid until it saps juices overflowing from the orifice? I can scarcely say that Veggie Tales is merely a shadow of the great show it used to be, Jean-Luc Picard once told him that his duty was to the truth. Frankly, I disagree on the point that gravity could be defied within the confines of our atmosphere without first putting a barrier of resistance against the midgets that use our toilets.

Furthermore and in anticipation of a conclusion, Love never fails. We go from challenge to challenge, but as long as we have our lollipops in hand, we need not fear a healthy diet ever again. Are you even aware of the existence of Malcolm Reynolds? Reason dictates that we move from my prior supposition to something more fundamental to support it. The expedition was considered a fools errand, but Shackleton knew that if he pressed onwards he could succeed. Sometimes I wonder if this is how Barney felt when pursuing the culprit who took the cookie from the cookie jar. After all, St. Paul is probably the worst city to try and find your friends in, but at least it's not suicide like Minneapolis. Commander Data dies in the end, but the movie ends with a similar Noonien Soong android named B4 which suggests endless possibilities. I'm still sad that Old Yeller had to die in the end, he could have made an excellent Borg drone. Perhaps if Pope John Paul II had personally absolved him of his sins he would have repented and turned back to his Catholic roots, but then again a terrorist is beyond all reasoning.

The next time is only 300 years from 1710,
In Truth

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