i no longer prefer american cheese slices.
not that i ever did.
i was not much of a cheese fan as a youth.
my youth was filled with non-cheeseness.
it was a glorious time.
fucking johnny appleseed would have enjoyed my youth.
though not as much as i enjoyed my youth.
because it was mine.
and i will always remember that.
from now till kingdom come.
glory be done.
on earth as it is in heaven.
give us this fucking day our daily bread.
and delivery us from evil.
or there's going to be hell to pay.
see, satan liked arithmetic. I always enjoyed a good round with Beelzebub.
He is a likeable fucker, despite the fact he's pure evil.
see, that's the problem with Satan.
you hate to love him.
but you do.
such is the way of scientific theory in 21st century France.
or aren't we in Buffalo New York?
I'll always cherish Troy Donohue.
Lucy the cat is an intimidator.
despite her size.
i'll tell you that sister.
brothers, fuck you.
i just turned over 15 chicken nuggets, currently roasting to a golden brown in my lovely oven.
i don't want any pate, nor am i making any, thank you.
i saw a cockroach earlier.
i suspect it came with the bag that it was near.
it was not characteristic of the locale i'm currently writing from.
i don't bid you farewell.
for you are not done.
with Chinese fragrances.
at least, not yet.
fuck the Americanization of the Antarctican canon that we all know and love.
nay, really i am living for the completion of the cooking of the delicious chicken nuggets i am about to ingest.
fuck contractions and everything they stand for.
not they really can stand.
they fucking never went to grand haven, that's for sure.
though i definitely remember the hills.
it's important to be an important friend to people who enjoy sinking their toes deeply into superfuckinghot sand that burns the underside of your most precious spot on your pinkie toe.
and i do mean that literally.
fcuk your american satisfaction with ponce de leon.
he fucking sucked.
and i don't mean that.
sexually, at least.
i await your transgression so i may be crucified on the steeple.
for i am i my brother's keeper.
especially when he takes me to the zoo.
which comforts my elders especially.
don't tell me i'm not racist.
i'm not racist or filled with the spirit of the sanctuary PR person.
for she is not alive, nor are people who live in shelters made of sabertooth tiger horns.
it's just not possible.
unless you live with the Hamburgler, which is possible considering you take exceptional back medicine every other Tuesday.
fucking a, dude, you are so sure you're available, it's pathetic.
at least i have rights.
And there were so many people that day listening to the shepherds.
i had to tell the world.
or the shepherds would have slaughtered me too.
So sayeth the shepherds...
So sayeth the flock...