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This forum makes as much sense as sensible simon on the dogs rocking horse.
Perhaps that is why i can never find the day to perform cheese surgery. Maybe its not weird, but maybe it isn't. The deck of cards cant call the kettle a cellphone unless it is deemed worthy.
I give up..too weird for me.
HARK! Neco threadage.
Fie! The iron mouse cracks his shining pencil sharpener! The frivolous compact disk threatens all capitalism! Heed the squeals of an injured igneous rock:
When the clock's long hand reaches its short foot, the truth of the porcupine's mighty sneeze shall be revealed, or baked until golden brown (but only if The Gluefish agrees). If it smells crunchy, is it not a melodious melon? To bee, or not to soap; that, is in fact, what the droves of unborn salamanders dream.
A malevolant tumor should be beaten with a converse shoe until its demeanor perspires. If not, surely the belt buckle's speech will move the silica gel to a higher state of bean. Remember, freedom is like an ant hill: neither is afraid of raisins during a full moon.
Roses are notorious liars when dipped in fermented canola oil, as Io claims. Thus, one should always try to sweep a banana towards the ceiling. Unless otherwise French, treehouses may never shade a whisker.
The corporations are generous beyond all ice cubes! We must demand that such oxymorons cease and continue, at least until the blueberries find condoms suitable for rain jackets! I'm sorry, I have to go and banana my underpants in a bleach and vinegar cocktail.
Vegetables will not be misremembered, although they are. Except for cucumbers. They hold the secret of the crystal dildo. Look within the seeds and repetition may be exemplified.
Shoes have eaten my world record for sitting in mountain. For this, the kiwis shall be rewarded with STDs before being shot with donut batter.
I leave you with wisdom, unless burning oil wells say otherwise: Papercuts fly east every second Tuesday of each victim.
A pox on your damned whiskers, I hate them as I hate all Hell, dreamers and thee.
Draw your fish knife, goodly sir, for we'll do battle upon the heath ere lunchtime is out. Come! Our hour is at hand! Let no spoonerism feel not the wrath of your bone china, and let not any hyperbole go without thrashing.
Take up your weapon, for now we do duel.
...senseless is fun. And bizarrely Shakespearean.
Oh my frightening doll, do not stare with your eye so carefully at the fire, turn your head, I wish it were possible, but no, we are the same.
I am proud, my thread has risen to new heights in the illustrious cobweb's mangled soul. Thus stated the magnanimous clown whilst tearing along the dotted line. The manual said to count the steps from Tahiti to South Carolina, but he'd lost count after goat. This meant that the strange blue overcoat went to foreign lands without the bespeckled arachnid, which did not bode well for the magpie on the tall branch. Alas, only nine dead crows were alive to see the invisible pink slug as it ran past the hill at a crawl.
My blue spotted snake ate my last cheesy sock, with extra peanut butter and tire whitewalls. With one last thundering whisper, the gregarious and nefarious pumpkin smoked the last Mohican. A resounding leap of opulent quiet echoed around the small green Porsche, spelling out certain doom for the retired microwave with seven small ducks. Obviously, my feet were computerized. At least,that's what the small yellow spoon told me over the wireless beer can. One more time, the influent ferocity of the modern cat bespeaks great loss to the felonious masses.
Stand over here and then you stand. You arise and rise. Please be seated. Put on your seatbelt and start running. Never stop sprinting then hurry up and go to sleep. Start racing later before now. Move rapidly in the closet and shut up very loudly.
loose let the iron swivel swing. The future holds whatever iron has brought.
Proud, proud Tin Man, when will you learn?
Must you use the golden cats to crawl through the cays? Don't you think the poor boy's had enough?
A certain radish would argue otherwise, but no one cares for leopards. Lemurs, alternitavely. Even lepers. Well no, not salamanders. Too much beet, too much Sam I Am, if you catch my drift. You won't though, it's useless to try to understand a blind man. They speak a new language, born out of the thirst for a decent pack of cigs and a quest. Johnny Quest, to be precise.
Drop the hooded officer of the law, drop the hooded officer of the law, drop the hooded officer of the law, drop the hooded officer of the law, drop the hooded officer of the law, drop the hooded officer of the law...oh, you did it already.
The Hunter remained silent. And then, “have you been screwin’ with my Akari?”
“Well, in the back, we--”
The Hunter bound the clenched wood in the air, seeing Innkeeper’s face turn pale as a ghost. The man held his hairy arms before his breast. The Hunter made a clean cut through the nose, mounting it in further with a shove of his palm. Blood poured from the obese man’s mouth and he soon collapsed to the ground. The talk ceased and the harps stopped mid-chord. The Hunter rose his sight just in time to see a horrified Akari, apron knotted around her neck. She scram with all her might. “What have you done?”
The Hunter lashed his finger at her, “You’ve been screwin’ I hear. Makin’ music with other men.”
“I-- I don’t understand,” she looked as she did when they first met, only more terrified. “I’ve been screwing holes, if that’s what ya mean!” Tears came to her eyes, “You really-- just killed him. Didn’t you?”
The Hunter was dumbstruck, “screwing holes, what?”
“Right,” she was panting hard, no longer looking him in the face, “He told me to screw holes ’cause the nails break easily if hammered,” she wrapped her arms around her torso.
“What about The Woodcutter, huh?” The Hunter felt tears coming to his own eyes, “You’ve parted your legs for him, haven’t you?”
“No! You said you hated the drums-- so I got him to--”
The inn door slammed open. In piled the Templar guard, donned in copper armor and finely cut greaves. “We heard a shout,” one said. They came near and immediately spotted the blood on The Hunter’s hand and The Innkeepers fresh corpse.
The Hunter turned to Akai and pled, “Forgive me, please!” the girl covered her mouth and gazed with awe. The look of shame. No, of hate. What have I done? O, what did I do?
The Hunter was The Condemned.
Hate is the essence of PRIME RIBS ONE.
wat
Mwahaha! A notice placed on the king's head on a Friday night at 12:59 After the moon glows.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mark75
Hark! My right ear is missing a hair cell. EGAD my whales won't assosiate with me anymore. FARGAGOLD! Trouble exists.
Three black jewels on my resume. A missing device of calculations. Slay me now I yell! Where was that pencil again? Where!?
BOOM! -- Boom.... Is this a bad sign at such a young age? Varily I say unto you. do your homework and then bitch. Eat.
~~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~
Nick is seen standing in front of the bathroom mirror, talking to himself. Let's listen in unto what he hast said.
" Wealth? Status? Power? Which of these will come with a man into the endless depths of death? Did not the newly rich in the Victorian age use every opportunity to show their vast wealth? 'Let us show everyone how much we have, let us throw fancy parties and eat 'till bursting'. Tell me now, which one is now remembered more by the average person: The wealthy man who died hundreds of years ago, or the peasant who choked on a piece of corn in the same time period? In this age, both men are in equal positions: forgotten and rotting in the ground. Can we not see history is repeating itself?
What does Wal-mart gain from slaving people in far off countries for consumer goods? They increase income! INCOME INCOME INCOME, SALE SALE SALE. LOWER OVERHEAD, SLASH "UNNECESSARY" COSTS! Money fills their barns, their very knees are covered in it! A sea of green ink! The sweat, pain, and labor of those less fortunate people with less opportunities fuel their wagon, yet not once are they mentioned in America. They will revel in their gold until the day it is all ripped from them in the grave. They have been warned.
What makes mankind happy? A new cellphone! Ah a cellphone! Dear Seras from AHD, is this the best answer you can give to what makes you happy? What happens if it breaks? What happens when you are left without communications, and are forced to THINK ABOUT THINGS! What happens when a robber breaks in and steals all your material possessions? What will be left of you!?
I once pondered the thought long ago: If the entire economy system was placed against one human life... what would win? At the time I seriously thought about this! How foolish I was! Did I not know the status of the world? If a person will kill a human being for his wallet, if people will make a business of abortion, how could I possibly consider that the human life would win over? The world would publicly slaughter this human life, so their business may continue!
Gas companies kill to prevent hydrogen cars and non-gas solutions from reaching the surface. They tower prices and devour everyone who nears. Only under pressure and in public light do they dare lower it! Only once people stop using as much do they "generously" lower their prices. This is how business works. "We don't give a shit what we sell or what you like. As long as whatever it is we supply you give us money for it."
TV, oh TV! What the hell are you? You abomination! Radio!! You sick bastard!
Let us infuse our opinions on all! Let us mold people into two simple types, make it black and white! Day by day my talk shows and newscasts pass your notice, and each day a piece of yourself is replaced with mine! I support Bush! I hate Bush! There are no such things as 'conspiracy theories'! All is fine! Our agenda is law.
Cars are red? :)
TI-84 Plus!
You are INTOLERANT! I LOVE PERPETUATING A NEW AND MAINSTREAM TERMINOLOGY LULZ!!!!!!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by Grod
I R INTEGRATED!
It seems truly senseless on the surface, but is actually a very abstract yet fully clear look into your minds.
That was intentional on my last two posts. :PQuote:
Originally Posted by Mark75
Random and senseless cat selection, as random as the universe:
http://i.pbase.com/u36/shadowmaster7...730.Rammit.jpg
How can a ramhorn snail maintain a perfectly shaven cuticle? I asked the pedicurist and the pedophile, however they leaked an odorous resin remniscent of an incandescent bulb which had been deep fat fried during the month of the gopher, and I had learned to distrust such a scent. I moved on to the bathroom of the spineless sugar cube for an answer, but it had already dissolved into piteous woe for its lost crayon. The crayon, of course, symbolized the most virtuous bratwurst, because it was the shade of a thousand smashed leprechauns. My only hope is to never surrender my steel nylons to the golden spider's sparkling silk.
No wavering godlengths appear.
It's all flowing, ever flowering into the red sleek attempt of serpents. And yet, none of this would appear to evaluate the current state of the world if it weren't for tea.
In all its bliss, the smoke leads the way.
I love how far this thread has come since it's creation.
Where will the multicolored charm of the Great Green Snoggleblott land when it reaches the azimuth of its disastrous path of Double-Fresh destruction? Will it snuggle amongst the subterranean caverns of the snaggle-toothed gremlin, befriending the little-known blind albino cave rhinoceros? Or shall it instead find its nest in the wilderness of the frozen grapefruit, contentedly smoking a smokeless pipe outside the worm-skin tent of the Phillipine prophet with the judgmental frown? Does it even matter in the aftermath of the broken candle holder, or will all be revealed in the light of the zombie eggplant?
In my disgruntled debacle of lengthy mathematical equations, the fragile antelope coughs out a number between 1 and 1,000, signaling the end of the gargantuan Fresian. Of course, scientifically speaking, who was Einstein? I never knew his robust replications nor his considerate calculations of prestigious proportions. Now, that's not to say that the purple manta ray doesn't dine on the hearts of a million ripe artichokes, only that the subcutaneous leopard does not fear his foreign uncle, the peanut. Though why the knobby pail must continue to choke the hassled unicorn in verily wondrous splendor is beyond this steel door.
Did this make it here already? It must have if I am talking about it where it is here. It belongs and such as.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww