it was the 18th gibbon of edwards, and poets were waxing. twelve-hundred thousand identical toothpicks, yours for the taking. gravis potentiae, my friend, that of which pies can only aspire to. melting pudding disassembles matrices upon delivery, funneling clambourines along the faint lines of society. how do you know? you grow. plantaloons, fault lines, and jersey city, the capitol of which is paris hilton. but rheostatis, donkey donkey malarky, that but thee, nay?
say it loud, say it proud: qqq muthafucka
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