Asphyxiated mongrels. We are locked in a room. Try random numbers on the door lock until Kim Jong Il opens the door and informs us he is dead and wants us to be in a Godzilla movie, but only if we remove our pallets properly, keeping track always of every missing can of soup. I try to explain that we are only human and am informed that I am a childish prick because I have never had children.
I just wanted to buck the trend, but it is no use in explaining anything to these people. They told me that if I struck this pose I would be in a Broadway musical or something.
Christmas is the most fascist holiday. I am told I am to punished today, but it turns out they don't have time, so they put it off until after the Nuclear Olympics. Kim Jong sits on the sidelines in a cast while the players try to take the field, but the marching band refuses to bifurcate.
If I don't get my blood pressure down and stop drinking, children in a small Asian Country the maps don't notice will die of N'Ga Ching DoH. If you cut back on caffeine and salt, you slow down and the world speeds up. The flag snapping in the wind looks like it is having a major anxiety attack, but you are tranquil, watching the blurring buzz of it all, not understanding and not caring or cringing.