Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Format Paintbrush

Prime numbers react to acids vented from archetype. Dream in which spelling counts, then night of long knives. Logically speaking, not so soothing, when the adding is done. They were children like reaction, attending Phish concert number 17101. The set list was hot, and every instrument in the band made sound. In fit vagary, ocean spun calculated tang for the bums in luxury. Resistance means universal health care, poured on the shores of taxation. This reveals why people stagger. Trees mean something until winter, then the wood is easy burning. So are children, in the back seat of each city. So are spellbound denting of pillows, as the head falls for slumber in an age. The guitarist of importance scratches chords from elegy. Or whatever, child in time.

The Expansion of Comatose (My Doctoral Thesis Can Enslave Yours)

Mr Roper turned to Joseph Goebbels and said, Mandibles redress the carcass. A laugh and instead for Herr Goebbels, who ballooned and full moon. The matter of coffee, in the reigning time, or lack of said beverage, in the reign of time. National Socialism and Fascism share a dislike of a comfortable and pleasant life, copied Mr Roper then pasted. From here to the planet of time, where it reigns, sweats Goebbels, this being sorted out in verity. Truculence manifests in coffee shortages, of which Herr Goebbels takes note. The simplicity is as of chardonnay, or blank looks when confronted by conservative anchovies. Situations inhere because we have tasted coffee and exacted strict regulations. Slave labour was a boon, and boons are good, we note in controvertible passage, freed. A boon of free labour and the midnight shattering glass become stranding units. Mr Roper intolerates with a passion, which is just as Herr Goebbels would have it. Listen, we have to feed children, believability, said Mr Roper. He stood next to Jack Tripper and it was not simple. Simple becomes a matter of regulation, and places to go when going needs. Herr Goebbels looked for a way for usefulness. It was core simple. Few towns remained. The starving to death part was overly, couldn't you tell? The main beam stutters in time, with a branch of government. We now have Mr Roper and Jack Tripper and Herr Goebbels the moebius strip. Just this, likely as plain noise.

Post-Doctoral Feces

Dragons eat panty hose. Meanwhile, drastic flab of piety inoculates the nose of Sarah Palin. Scansion of said nose props cordite for the next school bombing. Fluffy justice reading funds maze of stated union. Say you grind up Glen Beck, as foreplay. This is My Little Pony in action. Popular cases of vocabulary survive the best case scenario of Goebbels' talk. We say Crest is the best dentifrice, knowing death will do some good. We see the point in knobs. Panty hose trees bloom in spring, in time for residuals. Dragons like residuals. Residuals bond the common offer with implemented harm. Dragons are so human, with history on their side. Human is the best part of slave labour, and the guts to say ouch. Human summits a pulse of industrial urge. Granules of Glen Beck survive for seasoning. Fake plastic makes ground Glen gravid. These are tears of effort.