i don’t understand what’s funny about this song. it’s simply very sad and impossibly long. *** bless johnny cash. he would have been 80 this week. now that i’m half his age, i’m deaf when some speak.
here’s something cool, kevin’s $130 love sign. i found it on flakebook, which sucks half the time:
find kevin here at bassmetalcraft. he’ll hook you up right or he’ll eat howard taft.
speaking of presidents and thyroids and banks, here is the re[LOVE]ution with super-pac thanks:
please don’t fret, folks, he didn’t speak all those things. they’re recorded samples, spliced up, re-arranged. the talented group at bad lip reading did it. i recommend you check them out for some laughs if you wish it.
thanks for shooting it at me, gomotomoto. i’ll soon send that song of your favorite band, toto.
received a nice email from another this week. seems long ago asa sent this to peek. it was a photo of his vulcan cruiser. thought i’d throw it up here as thanks from a boozer. i’m sure it’s reliable, a long-distance rider. that ought to be good as these times become tighter.
now you’re to meet my new favorite artist. ben newman’s his name, he’s perverted the farthest.
and for some reason a piece i messed up, which i threw together from a honda ad and stuff.
today is the birthday of one dr. suess. now you know why i’ve been mother goose.
“on you will go, though the hakken-kraks howl!”
my mountain is waiting. what’s behind was most foul.
if only i had done or not done that one thing. my life might be better or worse or…. man. my dog just farted and i can’t think of a rhyme here. how about “stank?” that kinda rhymes with thing. what? do you know how long this took to write? i don’t rhyme on purpose, morning, noon or night.
wondering how nacho cheese relates to all this? it could be a secret, a joke, or fine stripper *******. it could be too private to share with dimwits. it could simply be pointless like no cheese on a ritz.
but wait, there’s much more! i have so much to tell. if you could see what’s inside of my guts when i yell. there’s the pink part, the black part, the red and the blue. much of it is also inside of you. so what if some bike is purple or long. there’s no excuse to be mean or say it’s all wrong.
therefore, to mind you of mental disease, here is a haiku about hot nacho cheese:
nacho cheese like ****
dripping slowly burning now
the napkin useless
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