that little bitch known as blogger is apparently not letting me put pictures on ultrabs now. I do realize that ultrabs is the single worst possible abbreviation and/or nickname possible for the hub of the ol triple dub, but shit, was anyone thinking “oh shit, popeye sounds like a good name”? yeah I thought not. Still it’s got to go.
So basically this post is simply an exercise in finger dexterity inclined to supply enough raw verbage by which to justify the experimentation of putting up a random picture. This picture could be of absolutely anything. It could be of meat. It could be of cake. It could be of the average airspeed of an unladen swallow carrying a coconut, if such a thing can be quantified and inundated in the form of a picture.
If there is no picture accompanying this brilliant text than you can deduce that the whole experiment was a phenomenal failure.
You should go read ken layne and follow the links to this story that some chauvinistic guy named max tucker wrote about miss Vermont. Ho-de-lay it’s interesting stuff. The fact that I’m a lazy pile really prevents me from finding the link & actually supplying it to you. (update: ok you pesky varmints, I went and found it, click here to read it. see whut I go through for you? see? A dog named clipper is the ultimate source, for, um, sources.) you’ll have to go my great-grand-blog-father ie layne & slide on down his, um, posts, and find it, he actually mentioned it a few times. (update, now you don’t have to, but you still should, cuz he rules) This max tucker guy, I’ve seen him on MTV, he’s like, all, Mr. Pimp in his own mind, and it kind of spoiled the interest I had in it to see that it was him but it’s still definitely worth a read. (update: I have nothing really to update here, but I like being an annoying bastard sometimes,) So is Ken (worth a read, that is, not an annoying bastard, although I’ve never met him in person), even though I am but a fly in the ointment that is his medulla oblongata. The odds of him ever reading this are about the same odds as me being outdoors on a Tuesday or a Thursday. You know I stay duck-down on those days cuz new Orleans po-leece be creepin’ and ready to grab me and put me in that pen.
And I ain’t having that.
So basically this post is simply an exercise in finger dexterity inclined to supply enough raw verbage by which to justify the experimentation of putting up a random picture. This picture could be of absolutely anything. It could be of meat. It could be of cake. It could be of the average airspeed of an unladen swallow carrying a coconut, if such a thing can be quantified and inundated in the form of a picture.
If there is no picture accompanying this brilliant text than you can deduce that the whole experiment was a phenomenal failure.
You should go read ken layne and follow the links to this story that some chauvinistic guy named max tucker wrote about miss Vermont. Ho-de-lay it’s interesting stuff. The fact that I’m a lazy pile really prevents me from finding the link & actually supplying it to you. (update: ok you pesky varmints, I went and found it, click here to read it. see whut I go through for you? see? A dog named clipper is the ultimate source, for, um, sources.) you’ll have to go my great-grand-blog-father ie layne & slide on down his, um, posts, and find it, he actually mentioned it a few times. (update, now you don’t have to, but you still should, cuz he rules) This max tucker guy, I’ve seen him on MTV, he’s like, all, Mr. Pimp in his own mind, and it kind of spoiled the interest I had in it to see that it was him but it’s still definitely worth a read. (update: I have nothing really to update here, but I like being an annoying bastard sometimes,) So is Ken (worth a read, that is, not an annoying bastard, although I’ve never met him in person), even though I am but a fly in the ointment that is his medulla oblongata. The odds of him ever reading this are about the same odds as me being outdoors on a Tuesday or a Thursday. You know I stay duck-down on those days cuz new Orleans po-leece be creepin’ and ready to grab me and put me in that pen.
And I ain’t having that.
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