’Tis the paradox of Zorba’s ass. Those who command resources always need more. It’s in everyone’s best interest, according to the first corollary, attested to by their lawyers and sworn in a court of law having jurisdiction in their bailiwick. The bootlickers are on winning side, but it’s the end of the line, according to those who execute the code.
All the advance thinkers agree on one thing, but they don’t know what it is.
Check out the true story of old mother Hubbard. You’ll be amazed, or my name’s not Heranimus Botch. It’s not at all what you would think. She didn’t go to the cupboard. Not under her own volition. The old dog did not dance a jig. It tripped the light fantastic.
Remember to clear your gustation tubes after changing the oil or you’ll be spraying your mess mates with territorial markers.
They decoded this message as an order to embark upon a study of the human animal in all its disguises. They had but few specimens in the white, and many in the other, which may have coloured the results. So said jolly Green Genes.
She, the woman we have been trying to follow, went to a frat party at the Chemical Brothers. All the other brotherhoods were spoken for. She came out of that one smelling like Gypsy Rosealeechee.
None could but acknowledge that it were a convenient conceit to pretend that the bell tolls for thee. She broke a heel as she fell.
I don’t know what felony or misdemeanour sent you to this here prison, but I plan to make your stay most forgettable. Right off the bast, would you like some juice? We’ve got cumquat sperm in alium ambergris from Moby Dick, procured at extreme personal risk by Mark O’Polo of the Great White Nort.
You’ve said a mouthfull already. Best to zip your lips.
Check your internet speed connection. You may be hindsighted in one eye.
Like the woman who only has one ear on the right side of her head, ever since she was a child, that’s what they told her. She had a nose not to be looked down upon, unless you had a hair trigger.
I met her in a grotto of the pool at the playboy mansion, while on state business on Michigan avenue. Gauss was called in as there was some deviations from the normal. The Spaniards could not be eliminated. All customers are required to update their firmware.
It’s dicks o’cock, dude. Time to be out there snaring the ladies in your web. This ain’t vaporware, not in our neck of the woods.
Spoiled childs in the plural. Married under a rapper. He spoke fluent gascon, down to the last polysyllabic soliloquy. She ran a hair salon, since before Samson met Delilah. Many a mung bean has gone to their just reward since those days. And god knows how many human bean got the same deal.
Opopanax, also known as opobalsam, refers to a number of gum resins (natural substances that are a mixture of water-soluble gums and alcohol-soluble resins) traditionally considered to have medicinal properties. Pliny (Historia Naturalis) and Dioscorides (De Materia Medica) described various kinds with uncertain identifications, which have been distinguished as:
A species of Centaurea
Lovage (Levisticum officinale)
Yarrow (Achillea millefolium)
Echinophora tenuifolia (Umbelliferae)
Ferula opopanax, also known as Opopanax chironium (Umbelliferae)
Fig-leaved cow parsnip, Heracleum panaces (or other species of Heracleum)
In recent times, the main source of commercial opopanax is from species of Commiphora, particularly C. erythraea and C. kataf. (Some sources suggest the entire production is from C. erythraea var. glabrescens, a tree growing in Somalia.) Myrrh is also obtained from Commiphora species.
Xenomanes, of the land of Nod, son of a barber-strangler, is commissioned to conduct King Pantagruel to Gondwanaland and points within and beyond as God in His grace may see fit and the fiddlers of the Hanseanic League lack not in catgut.
Beauty is only skinny dip and the mote is in the eye of the beholder. Wide of the mark are the stones of those without sin. Don’t push me or I might fall down, down in the bayou where the boondocks call, call to the grand poo-bah of the ticking time bomb.
A number of individuals have or will be disappeared from the grid. The British mathematician who tied himself into a torus, the cat man do gooder, the lady of shallots, the token arabs, the halt and the dumb, that crazy baldhead, the victims of the CIA the KGB and the PTA. Those bootstrapped, befuddled, and beyond cognition.
Some others, some other individuals, are so far merely off sides. Wouldn’t you say that they stink of heresy? Can you stomach their sort of bile? Please respond on form C-79, link to follow, on pain of death to you and your descendants.