Totally psychotic babble
 

Interconnected, disjointed ramblings, anyone? :crazy:

I need to mow the law. It's about two feet high but we mowed it less than a week ago. It's raining. Been raining every single day when I get home from work. I don't wanna do it on Friday or Sunday (my days off) but maybe I don't even care. 'Cause if we get a dry day, it'll just rain and grow again the next day.

What should I make for dinner?

taser-spray tremeloes...

Ya mean these?

See how we used to be? That's kind of refreshing, isn't it?

Sweet nothings stick inside my ear
canals, Panamanian hats tipped below one-eyed Jack-
be nimble fingered fandango-tangos peeling-
mangled metaphor maniacal fancies-
dressing to the nine lives.

That's great; you have got the most psychotropic out-of-touch reality-surfers, inspirational eclectics over 50 coming to voice their protests of sanity in one little neat arena.


Did you know that boys don't cry?

compatible

"I'm only 49!" he cried.

Don't cry, young whippersnapper, everything will be alright. You can mow my lawn if you feel sad.

The young kids today say he is the popping-fresh man.

Keep Off The Lawn

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3132/...bee37070a3.jpg

Would that leave shell casings on my lawn?

Try to keep it inside my lawning...

http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/h...y/DSC_1139.jpg

(ring braided my wetness this morning, folks, and then snapped me.)

littleoldladygotmutilatedlatelastnight...

Fucking werewolves.

I totally misremembered to watch Dracula with the guy who portrayed Superman's boss... I wonder what the film was called?

These new Dell computer commercials look like pink dog turds.

Climb every mole. Blind-eyed sinking dogs-paddle my behind
and ahead of the time spent on refractions,
split before the art of anticipations,
a riddle fiddles with your harpies,
and soundings bounce back to you-
red rubber concentric circled bouncy ballistics...period.

With the proper ballistics, storming a medieval castle would be easy.

If I am talking to you on the internet by myself, am I ever really alone?

I screamed as loud as I could, yet he never heard me.

Whispers desire proper auditory receptacles in an echoing fashion,
& dress our wounds with comely ministrating minstrels,
that will harmonize us whole.

the evening news keeps me awake at night.
and then the ambien ads kick in at 11:45ish

I told you, I'm not going to play that game with the mailman anymore.

His horse decided he didn't want to wait at the hitchin' post any more.

Clark Kent's boss was Perry Mason. He eats flapjacks by the seaside.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

He looks like he is about two steps away from eating spiders in the corner.

My rifle is black but my magazines and green and tan. They don't match; nothing matches. I'm embracing an interracial relationship with my shooting accessories.

Okay. Who played Perry Mason in Superman Returns, 'cause that guy was totally embodying all that was the one distinct Nosferatu, maybe some 25 years ago.

That'd be Frank Langella as Perry White. (I recall him as Dracula!) I prefer Perry Mason as Clark's boss. He might unravel the mystery of Clark's disappearances.

Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound! ("Look! Up in the sky!" "It's a bird!" "It's a plane!" "It's Superman!")... Yes, it's Superman ... strange visitor from another planet, who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men! Superman ... who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way!

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v1...1/superman.gif

Gumby's head I used to use as an eraser,
and my younger sister put poky through his paces,
so many times, that his ankle wires eventually poked out,
and that day when she sliced her finger almost down to the bone,
with her poky prancing,
Dad said to mother:
"Well at least she doesn't eat glue and play-doh."

http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/h...poky_art-1.jpg

I love gumby and pokey.

there are too many spoons in the pot and not all of them are being held by cooks. ~ me.

that's worth remembering...

My wings proved useless versus the weight of my giant ego.

Gumby had a smooth spot.

chompsin, huh?

Is he the one who dated Penelope Pittstop? I so used to want to be her.

http://members.fortunecity.com/roger...er/ramjet2.jpg

My friend had 2 dogs. One of them was called Muttley. The other also had a name.

What a coincidence!!! We were asking "do we want a dog, or don't we?" so we named our dog Dewey.

Is your dog able to organize all knowledge into ten main classes? And then with those ten main classes, further subdivide each into ten divisions, and each division into ten sections, giving ten main classes, 100 divisions and 1000 sections? Is his advantage in using decimals for his categories allow him to be both purely numerical and infinitely hierarchical? Can he also use some aspects of a faceted classification scheme, combining elements from different parts of the structure to construct a number representing the subject content (and often combine two subject elements with linking numbers and geographical and temporal elements) and form of an item rather than drawing upon a list containing each class and its meaning?


Or does just he just dig holes and hump legs and stuff?

I would give up garlic for him.

A scene from the upcoming movie: Die Hard: Finally Dead...

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1266/...9658c6109a.jpg

I'm totally using this, just to let you know.

********

I am surrounded by noises of machinery that I do not understand. Beeps, Boops, Tings, and WHREEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee. Sounds, sounds coming from places of unknown origin. Sounds that bleed into me. Sounds that bleed out of me. One room, many rooms, all the same room. Little rooms inside of big rooms. Noises coming from them all. Talk, Type, Talk, Laugh, Type. Noises from people near and far. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK. The noises touch me and leave me hollow. No feeling, no light, only fake light, only fake feelings. When two hands become one, my time has finished. Noises leave to sound again one other day. When two hands become one again.

I once had a dog. He was a kerry blue terrier. I'm thinking he might have been gay.

How sad that I didn't realize this when he was alive.

same shit - different thread.
go tfp.

Speaking of meat:
Back when I was a deer hunter for a ten year period...
most always, I made sure to take one clean head shot.
I hate meat wastage.

Oh, and the tenderloins are tastiest when eaten raw,
with a little salt-pepper-garlic.

Tartare!

crazy old hippies can be dull-ards, too.
go figure.

I had a dream about those 'Scrubbing Bubbles' last night.

Flashback.

I want you back. We'd all like you back. It's not a matter that we miss you, nor is it anything to the slant of we've forgotten you. The thing is, anyway, what it is, and to the point, in this old age, nostalia creeps up, takes hold, and we stumble, then again, recall, what made us be. Our reflection eternal. My fondest wish is that I can state it again, face to face, and through your eyes, the processes and events that await in everyone's recollections. (jst to let you know: this spur-of-the-moment idling was intended to be just a two-word, compound reply; but, then it morphed into a true-blue, five-word sentence, and ... well, the mind lept.)

I miss you.

http://i49.tinypic.com/esp6pz.jpg
(Peaceful Field) . . . "Teddy-girls", photography by Liz Ham, for OysterMag

Walking on water is easy, you just need to understand consciousness, and carry these quartz crystals with ya.
Release all the garmonbozia of your bloodline back into the sunlit moonbeams.
Finger bangin' I'm in Love.

I hear it. The beats, the music, the feel, the draw, the urge, the need. Move your body, shake your body, feel your body, need your body. What do I need? I what I feel? It rises. Rises inside me with a primeval urge only felt by lowered bodies. Need. Need. Need. Touch. Groan. Need. Want. Feel. Touch me, fuck me, hold me, dismiss me. I need you yet, I push you away. This, that, you, me, what is real? You. Me. Now. Later?

It's hard to be psychotic
when all the boundaries are blurry
because of all the voices.

dastardly...

Is that a pejorative? I think my pharmacist might know. I haven't seen him for weeks...

Well, that explains everything...