rambling schizoid quasi-verbalizations are the true path
Fuck you and your ugly ape. Though my plans are still in the organizational faze, be well assured they are in progress. Rapid progress. God damn my brain feels good. I can hardly tell you what neuro-satisfaction is to be derived from full knowledge of immanent global control. Actually, it may not be global control. It may only be whatever country I decide to live in as well as any other countries dwelt in prior to that one. The u.s. will be mine for sure.
Last night I was drunk in the woods with a good friend. He went on a rant at the moon. Apparently, he was having some frustrations with women and the moon is their patron and, well, you can guess the rest. After some good vitriol, I suggested that we go worship the sun. He seemed okay with that idea, but it was probably about 2am so the closest option was to go on cursing the moon and that's just what he did. His final curse was to drop his pants and wave his cock around in the cold night air while threatening the moon with a good fucking and subsequent pregnancy. That's when I knew it was time for me to do my part. I informed him that I already have plans drawn up for a space capsule and launcher which could easily propel a sample of his semen to the moon. For the price of a paltry million dollars, I would build said capsule and launcher as well as calculating tragectory such that the capsule would impact and burst at the bottom of the moons deapest 'crater.' "All you have to do," I said, "is pay me a million dollars, whack off in the capsule, and wait. Before too long you'll notice the moon getting bigger and after a while it'll spit out another little moon that looks just a bit like you."
Well, he turned me down. If anybody else wants to get the moon pregnant well, I want a million dollars and I can help you realize your dream. Payment is expected up front and not a lick of work will be done until it is recieved in full.
Fuck you and your ugly ape. Though my plans are still in the organizational faze, be well assured they are in progress. Rapid progress. God damn my brain feels good. I can hardly tell you what neuro-satisfaction is to be derived from full knowledge of immanent global control. Actually, it may not be global control. It may only be whatever country I decide to live in as well as any other countries dwelt in prior to that one. The u.s. will be mine for sure.
Last night I was drunk in the woods with a good friend. He went on a rant at the moon. Apparently, he was having some frustrations with women and the moon is their patron and, well, you can guess the rest. After some good vitriol, I suggested that we go worship the sun. He seemed okay with that idea, but it was probably about 2am so the closest option was to go on cursing the moon and that's just what he did. His final curse was to drop his pants and wave his cock around in the cold night air while threatening the moon with a good fucking and subsequent pregnancy. That's when I knew it was time for me to do my part. I informed him that I already have plans drawn up for a space capsule and launcher which could easily propel a sample of his semen to the moon. For the price of a paltry million dollars, I would build said capsule and launcher as well as calculating tragectory such that the capsule would impact and burst at the bottom of the moons deapest 'crater.' "All you have to do," I said, "is pay me a million dollars, whack off in the capsule, and wait. Before too long you'll notice the moon getting bigger and after a while it'll spit out another little moon that looks just a bit like you."
Well, he turned me down. If anybody else wants to get the moon pregnant well, I want a million dollars and I can help you realize your dream. Payment is expected up front and not a lick of work will be done until it is recieved in full.
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[Edited on Dec 24, 2002]