Observational Humour Part 3
I want to be more than a mutated clone of your failed communications with past lovers. I wanna take a mortgage out on you girl.
Just when you think you've heard it all some guy starts bragging that he injected peanut butter into his veins. He thinks himself a genius this one. I don't know if he was braindead before or after. Probably both.
Listen up, fuckface. You hang out at strip malls and smoke pot with your simpleton friends and try to look tough while waiting for your cell phone to ring so you can make plans to go to another strip mall to smoke more pot with your even dumber friends. Your gene pool leaves a lot to be desired. Who the fuck dresses you? A goddamn advertising agency? Clear a fuckin' path.
Evil never dies. It just gets a really bad hangover sometimes.
I'm flipping through the channels and I see Martha Stewart doing what Martha Stewart does. I swear...she mentions the words "soap" and "plants" about one hundred times each. It was disturbing. I was actually offended in a strange way. I wonder if she's having any effect on the suicide rate.
Try to reason out the world and still remain in control of who you are. Suck back a little darkness. Love yourself for a couple of minutes each week. Breathe smoke into your lungs when you're tired of air. Admire the purposeful movements of the cockroach. Also...It's the words that never get said that are most likely to put you in line with the dead.
You know you've got problems when you come home and some naked guy wearing a welding mask is passed out on a twister board surrounded by empty bottles of cheap wine and mayonnaise with a bunch of dirty needles stuck in the dartboard.
How many worlds of the imagination can you explore until you meet somebody who shows a little bit more?
They're all poets when they're dying. A bigger step into a greater nothing.
I don't fear what you understand because you don't understand your fear.
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those with places to go and those who go to places.
Wouldn't a bisexual person's ideal mate be a she-male? You know, tits and a dick? And maybe just A LITTLE hair on the ass...damn...I think I took this thought too far.
Just when you think you've heard it all some guy starts bragging that he injected peanut butter into his veins. He thinks himself a genius this one. I don't know if he was braindead before or after. Probably both.
Listen up, fuckface. You hang out at strip malls and smoke pot with your simpleton friends and try to look tough while waiting for your cell phone to ring so you can make plans to go to another strip mall to smoke more pot with your even dumber friends. Your gene pool leaves a lot to be desired. Who the fuck dresses you? A goddamn advertising agency? Clear a fuckin' path.
Evil never dies. It just gets a really bad hangover sometimes.
I'm flipping through the channels and I see Martha Stewart doing what Martha Stewart does. I swear...she mentions the words "soap" and "plants" about one hundred times each. It was disturbing. I was actually offended in a strange way. I wonder if she's having any effect on the suicide rate.
Try to reason out the world and still remain in control of who you are. Suck back a little darkness. Love yourself for a couple of minutes each week. Breathe smoke into your lungs when you're tired of air. Admire the purposeful movements of the cockroach. Also...It's the words that never get said that are most likely to put you in line with the dead.
You know you've got problems when you come home and some naked guy wearing a welding mask is passed out on a twister board surrounded by empty bottles of cheap wine and mayonnaise with a bunch of dirty needles stuck in the dartboard.
How many worlds of the imagination can you explore until you meet somebody who shows a little bit more?
They're all poets when they're dying. A bigger step into a greater nothing.
I don't fear what you understand because you don't understand your fear.
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those with places to go and those who go to places.
Wouldn't a bisexual person's ideal mate be a she-male? You know, tits and a dick? And maybe just A LITTLE hair on the ass...damn...I think I took this thought too far.
posted by Kevin C. Pearce | 5:34 PM
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