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cheezeburgers, cheeze burghers, everywhere, and not a drop of olestra, too
pink.

someone told me to mention something about fat broads...i have no ideas.

all speech is sloppy, ineffective. we don't need anymore generalized evil.
but we'll get it anyway. it takes intelligence to show how, why, true,
which is why intelligence is impossible and the only thing. i mean, we are
all fucking psychopaths, sure. it's all a horrible, stupid mistake. there
isn't any information for anyone to have which is less mtv. jesse's snotty
comments are his substantial record. we are all clueless if we think to
mean well. we are all artificial art officials. still trying to figure what
i'm supposed to get out of how a candidate looks. wish i could stick my
neck in the sand retrospectively, so as not to think i know. shut up is
about as informed as it comes. information is a shut up.

editing a thought would have rendered 'head'.

delightfully scruffy.

having friends who have worked there upstairs all of years, i might reference
someone else, say fgi is a graphic arts firm, which uses thinly disguised
marketing research via telephone, to market graphic arts products. it is
all misconceived. it will never clear up.

ask, and ask again, for intelligence. it is mutually exclusive to everything
in its all inclusiveness. that's a rule and stuff. all motives are at odds,
that is intelligence, and it's stupid. there is no freedom from this. all
is a faux-democracy of private citizens gone public. a higher level of
articulation and strategy will accentuate this. we don't like helms. we
want to tell him so. we try harder in a general election. it's alla same.
information is vague fear, something we don't 'know', scaring us to vote.

i have never been more.

if you could convince decided folks their interests are represented, then
there we've gone. as was said, close minded bigotry is the information,
representative of state. dirt poor farmers don't care what helms, the
private citizen, thinks about them. they are a representation, well,
themselves.

this week, i was given a tv yet again, as an act of love. i received it
thankfully. and feel that too, if not for the tv. i'm less plugged in now
than in former years, except for 1986, when i was younger and more bitter.
the conservatives, staid, indoors last night, wouldn't join us in the hot-tub.
she stopped playing violin in the driveway when i approached. three trees
fell on, demolished, the house. the adjacent greenhouse, cultivated pitcher
plants therein, remained intact. he spent three days in jail for busking.
then he scammed me. "paint again," he said. "i can't," i said. "you won't,
even for fun?," she said. "of course, i will," i said. get fresh, hip triangle.

c'mon, admit it.

morality of stories: voting is a symbolic thing, designed to make us feel
good about our preferences. i'm hip enough to appear to know the dischord
gang postered meese. somebody was sued for libel over it. i'm not hip
enough to remember who. we are all pigs as we are americans (for those
not here, just read the get rich quick spams, that is all there is). there
is no legitimate public in which to dissent. i hate meeses to pieces, too.
so what is that.

give me some words to puncturate.

he never received the money he received, according to the authors. last
night i felt good. today, i am showing off. harvey is likeable as a private
citizen, as well. she thought you were handsome in your overalls and you
had your chance, no lack of luck. sorry for the interruption and everything
is a reference. i hate being everything. i hate that a stations would trade
cds at all. i am always falling for women's feet. besting ideologies appear
in colonies, the least resistance. i'd vote to decant electricity. i'm
strapped, on. sand on my shoulders, that is. bent, formed, whatever, i am
thankful, bend, form, whatever as well. (as well).

i'd love to do that noize trip as well, but the tranny is about to blow.

he has a patent concerning this.
another was a travel agent.
does she know about this?
i cantsaybutfeelidunno.

i don't blame her, but don't grant more credit for bomb shelters here, either.
same difference. crispy aestheticians. howl about the damage to 'society'
from bankruptcies. everything is borrowed more than we can pay. pete is dead.
i am egg, man. get dirty. get in your cop's face. it will make one feel good.
that is all one can do except make-allow others. these motives are at odds,
competing for parity, not competition. best ideas appear, parity errors, big
hipster whiteman cometh. deed is bond. everything must go!!

thank you for the shove in my tape story.

i let you, me, be more clear but clarity is myth. if a thought were ever
finished, we'd be in -real- trouble. we're always in trouble of a thought
finishing. everything is faux. nothing is wholly analogous. what i, a lude,
too, is that the reality of the situation is some wanna push drag queens
to the rear of the pack for the sake of nice, well-behaved whitemen. cops
everywhere. i don't mind the reference, realize the futility of mind.

everything helps the process, nothing completes it.
nothing completes the process, everything completes it.

then I went on to argue about the stupid posts, but i have noticed attempts
to do so.

alternate faux-info: charlotte is the center of the pro-gantt forces, not the
triangle. you may interpret this as not having been informed. this is a
result of necks. you acknowledge the loss of participation as you decline.

as you decline.

i'm surprised you're a little bit riled, considering. everything is
pointless wanking, back and forth, or neck in it.

i think i'm realizing a preference for necks. wide-open truck stop
legend of sleep.

take this out of context; it pertains to none of its surroundings:
the founding fathers had more or less the same idea. it was with
great glee that i read this.

however, it's sort of pointless to dismiss a medium because some subset
of it sucks. this is so multiply ironic that i don't know if i'll be
able to stop laughing this week.

anyway, some nice pro-gantt literature in the mail from helms is as clear
a demonstration as you're gonna get. which is not very. but, uh, there
you go.

source for cheapest, best idea, of a cheezeburger: hectors.

one nation, one staplegun.

this chevy nova, though, is it stick, stock? the tranny's about to blow
and unless her momma bends, forms, i'm needing no lack of luck. with
seven messy boys, it makes perfect sense that your room is the one infested.

story of amoral: i lived at the foot of a mountain. each wednesday night,
i would drive up the mountain to the lodge, have a big rainbow trout on
special. after dinner, drive down the parkway to where the trail crosses.
park car. take trail to knob top. beautiful. overlooks all the light of
roanoke and no other peaks in way of the view. on knob top was big rock.
i reclined on rock each wednesday night and looked up at stars, keeping a
watch on my watch. for at exactly 9:06 pm each wesdnesday night, some
dual exhaust, gull winged, machine of war would roar directly overhead
of that rock, maybe fifty feet overhead at most. deafening. heat blasting.
over in an instant. fucking thrilling.

you can imagine the first time this happened to me.

not having the information predicting what would happen beforehand, i was
startled out of my wits. the second time, i could hear the approach of the
jet and anticipate. this 'information' was... comforting. my reaction
was altered. vague fear changed my vote. the event was the same.

even then, my 'knowledge' of the event was supposition until occurence.

even then, my 'knowledge' of the event might prompt me to try harder,
decide a preference, protest this disturbance. then something else
would occur. and without my prescience.

standing, sitting, the bass plays. me, you, william christ, somebody.

i find this all rather pointless and that's the point. i find so many
points appearing, which is just so pointless. so i'll post, despite my
preferences for anyone.

that's three palindromes in two weeks.

all local bands should break up, recombine in new configurations. i don't
think this is anything original. just makes me feel really good.

3.2.3

"i approve." - ri

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