It’s the cream in your cup,
it’s the feather in your cap,
it’s the dice in your hands,
it’s the flab in your pan,
it’s the color o’ leaves,
it’s the holes in cartoon cheese,
it’s your knees’ bees,
it’s crease in your jeans,
it’s the tingling in your knickers,
it’s the warning before every trigger,
it’s the warming that hides in every winter,
it’s the only coffee that tastes sweetly bitter,
it’s the sickle in every sinner,
it’s the shadow under every winner,
it’s the boughs that only get thinner,
it’s a real-ass, motherfucker cool dude,
It’s the shit,
it’s the trick,
it’s, it’s, it’s,
chip, chip, chip.
When we finally use X-Zone on the vanished HAND,
that’s when the sexiness starts.
In Soviet Earth, you can’t elude the truth;
the truth only always eludes you.
¿How do you like them grapes?
There are no “them grapes”;
there are only “those grapes.”
Learn to write, asshole.
I mean it.
There is only 1 god,
& that god is love;
if ( !love_your_fellow_humans_even_if_they_smell_like_they_ rolled_round_in_pig_shit_for_hours_ )
{1
you_love_god_ = false;
}
Remember that, you shitty pile o’ shit &/or secrets.
“Right, right. Hold it there.
‘Scuse me, sir, but I must stop this section.”
¿What?
¿Who are you?
¿How did you sneak into my book, you sneaker?
“I’m the Entertainment Police & I’m ‘fraid this section’s gotten far too silly. You’re under arrest for violation o’ Walrus’s Law stipulating that all silliness must be balanced evenly with seriousness so that they both fall into equilibrium. Come with me, please.”
Wait, but I’m not don—
“Come ‘long, sir.”
Bu—
Footnotes:
[1] All true Magical Socialists use Allman style. All heathens who use K&R or the 1 True Brace Style must be eliminated.
