well apparently blogger is even more retarded than I originally thought. Both my PE lyrics and my dr. doom post below seem to be lost in the swirling nebula that is blogger’s sphincter of purgatory. This leads to a very interesting quandary I find myself in? would even dr. doom presume to have such an ego that he would re-record a re-recording? I mean, if the second recording was a bust, would he just say fuck it, or would he record another version, with a new intro, just to preserve the record? I think he would, but that time is not now. My theory is that blogger likes to fuk with me if I don’t post more than once a month. To this I say: fuck all of you. if I want to post once a year, you’ll like it, live it, love it, need it, and if every fukn post is dr. doom saying over and over and over and over again the same old crap I wrote 20 times already, well, then, you’ll just have to suck it up and take one for the team.

But as said, that time is not now. Now I’ve got important stuff to impart to you, my most loyal readers, the ones that actually come over here, where the underground shit is poppin. The vital information is so vital and hush-hush that I don’t even know about it yet, but as soon as I get word, I’ll send it via messenger pigeon. Long beach. Bet. Glendale. Word. Yes. 86ers on crapston acres. Feel me? No prob, loco, it’s all gee.

So x-men 2 was pretty damn frizzled and jizzled. I was very pleased with the presentation and elocution. I feel that storm’s little cloudy eye thingy she does was emphasized to the proper degree and that even though colossus could have used a little more screen time, you know, every dog has his day as they say. Who says this is something of which I have no fucking idea.

You may be surprised to know that my dog is a hermaphrodite. Not clipper, but my imaginary dog Rhesus Monkey Malone. He’s an imaginary dog (well, I guess, he/she) that consults with me on serious world issues and choices like carmel corn or gobstoppers, without which the world would probably grind to a halt. The fact that he/she is totally imaginary bears no impact positive or negative on our relationship, and I hold nothing against him/her for his/her status as a he/she. Hey if you want to be a transgendered multi organed ghetto bastard than who am I to shit all over your dream, even if you don’t actually exist except in my mind? I mean, I wouldn’t want someone to disrespect me like that, even if I was just a figment of a squirrel’s imagination.

oh and the ward is back, but minus greg. with this huge link ryan will probably make his first million within a week. yeah we're talking that kind of pull, bitch. and he better fukn remember the dog that got him there, that goatless fuk. and yes i'll update my links on UB to reflect that shit. fuck, have some patience you ghost bird that keeps stalking me in my sleep. damn i get one minute of shut-eye and this fukn robins red breast with a mohawk and a nipple ring is whistling the gilligan's island them song in my ear. i wake up, and he's always gone. always.

carry on.