Time to rap. Get together. Friends. In a group. Talking about things. Feelings. Big topics. Little topics. Love interests. Sexual tendencies. Things of that nature. Good things. Bad things.
Troubling times. Here in Northern Maine we have taken to sacrificing the children. Other people's children. Not ours. Too precious. They have souls. Little souls. Little children. Handle with care.
Hearts go out. People in trouble. War. On top of everything else. Gotta get crazy. Gotta get it on. I guess. The way of our people. Primitive people. Human people. Not advanced. Foolish. Make mistakes. Over and over. Same mistakes. Why? Why no learn? Why lessons not learned? Bad teacher? Bad school? Underfunded? Blamed for social disorder? Somewhere in the woods. There are people. Balls as big as cannonballs. You'll never meet them. They don't like you.
I'm a sexual being. I like being sexual. Maybe you like to wear a burlap sack (needs to be noded). How would I know? We don't talk. Mismanagement. Poor occupancy rates. Close the hotel. There are fleas on the bed! Hundreds of them. Making love. Do you like that term? Does it make you wretch? Are you kind of a douche? Talk to someone. Get it straightened out. Stand with Ukraine.
There are clever people out there. They get overlooked. No one knows why. They get shoved aside. Are you one of these people? Were you left out of the new economy? Have you been to Tasmania? We're having a nodermeet there in September. Men who are hung like horses are going to be there. They will be cooking dinnner. Different dishes. Local cuisine. Care about each other. Build friendships. There isn't much time. There is no time for noding every little factoid. Loser's game that one. Don't play it. Get on board. Do the Curly Shuffle.
How you doin'? Glad to hear it. Maybe you are a little down on your luck. You must be to be reading something on this website. Change needs to come. Big changes. Make it happen. Be part of the program. Be the change you picture being sometimes when you are in bed diddling yourself. Bet you do that a lot. Can't keep your hands off your goods. Feels so good to rub one out. You can admit it. Go ahead. Make a call. Tell someone you rubbed one out today. I'll hold the wire. Be here when you get back. Not.
Let us claim victory over the country doctors. Let us banish them from these lands. They are not a worthy lot. All out there in the woods looking at people's bodies. Fucking weird if you ask me. We don't have to tolerate that. Not here. Let them go on one of them other sites. Barnaby Jones fan club. Sometimes like that. Wasn't he a country doctor (needs to be noded)? Maybe not.
The rebellion is coming. Line 'em up. Like the song says. Change and face the wind. Something like that. Who sings that? Grace Jones? I don't know. Someone should look it up. Fucking weird if you ask me.
Troubles come when one least expects it. When you fail to adhere to the thoughts your own mind is making you think. Tough one. That one. You can parse it. I am watching you do it. Watching you do it right now. I am in your fucking bathroom. I am wearing your clothes. I look just like you. I am rubbing one out. While dressed in your clothes. Pretending I am you. Fucking weird if you ask me.
More information forthcoming. Viva de los revolucionaires!