Deeds awaken fell shrimps
6.14.04 Thoughts! To all various farthings
Break the Sheetz! I shall resign from my three-year occupation. Why? For oneandonly one reason: IT'S TOO GRUNDGILY BUSY! Now: one thing to tell: I have mistakenly ended up in the occupation of sales, which has left me with less money and more heartbreak. But at least I don't fight with nail and tooth for a decent schedule.
I would like to commend Paul Burton for his strong convictions and his willingness to sprout it to all, which is definitely what free speech is all about. And I want to say that what he said is absolutely true: our lives, in entirety, don't really amount to much except for the relationships with people and with God.
I have found the thing that I need to succeed in work and life: discipline. But Dendall intervenes and inturrupts my thought process with a resonating flatulent. So when Dendall's microscopic particles of crap are floating into my nasal passages, I will ignite a Lysol aerosol can and burn the source of propagation away from my midst.
Character -- something that one, including the president of the CCCC, is hard pressed to find in today's utmost voluptuous society, as revealed by the voluptuous nude. But I'm not talking about the opposite gender. I fear violation has occurred in my situation, and I do really wish to say no more. Except for simply the fact that I have become voluptuous for only God knows why. Perhaps stagnant microscopic air particles are affecting my brain.
And finally, I vent a plethora of emotions which deal with grappling thorns from stupid human nature. Sanctification -- it hurts sometimes. But not as much as the stench of a sudden release from Dendall's digestive tract.
Ahh, now things come into focus, as my paradigm shifts into gear.
To all the ones who hear my voice
A muffled echo of a valiant noise
While standing on the edge and poised
I bid thee solace for your wounds
Pain and shame I fear have come
From a fool with loosened tongue
For rules I knew and even sung
Fall broken all of them too soon
But fall I not from deeds amiss
Three steps remain to the precipice
I have a choice although the kiss
Of giving in beats firm 'gainst chest
The unmapped future lies ahead
I travel into land untread
My path is certain, the books are read
Though my eyes can't see the rest
If one true lesson I may learn
Then let it be than my life harmed
If in the course of mistakes unmade
I learn the wrong and seize the day
For no valiant warrior springs o'er night
Or graceful mares of mighty flight
Find such amazing strength when born
So I must tread through sandals torn
So, to do that which has been left undone, "Hello", good sirs and such fine madams, that is to say "My Dame!" But ug course, I most assuredly wouldn't venture up within whispering distance of one of the "good sirs" and retort this same expression. That would render me one who indeed has a likening for the same cow, and "watched too much voluptuous tube". How can the corneas remain fixed on one object for an extended period of time? I find this activity most artificial and becoming more and more voluptuous indeed. Voluptuosity is used in almost every advertisement one sees, which is indeed why I have coined this appliance the "voluptuous tube".
Witch, I heard one of the ones remark extremely recently, as in microseconds ago via memoranda, "Sitting and watching [voluptuous tube] zaps your creativity..." - Pau Piltdownman
I must fight with hand and tooth, tactics uncouth, to find a job worth noting by a certain respectable gentleman. Well, perhaps the situation isn't this dramatic. However, I in most apparent striking reality must have a good amount of activity in the next few weeks in which to accomplish this feat. Therefore, please make intercession for me as I venture out against the better of my evil nature and attempt to battle the flesh in more ways than one.
Ba hum dee dum, indeed I will rip out a microscope and clench a detective's magnifying lens and proceed to zap the microns on my epidermis. However, since our struggle is not with flesh and blood, I instead must rip out a horse's tail and transplant it on my dog, for as we all know, dogs' mouths are much cleaner than a horse's tongue.
But I haven't even mentioned pathogens! Perhaps I should invent a new kind of biological warfare specimen that targets any cell with the same genetic makeup as Dendall. But wait! A new hooded apparition has appeared in the building (as opposed to leaving the building, such as the king of Chemistry, Newog, Newo's arch nemixis). The pathogens have been emitted from such a crude source as can only be named TUDE, that is to say, "Toxic Unstable Dendall Emission." Newog! Rargh!
Or should I blabber, "Gowen?" Fwa ha ha! The derogatory inflammation continues! Target! Zoooooooom ker chup PLANK!
The blunt end of my arm now resembles a cylinder. Something has gone terribly wrong. I will die a slow, painful death, but not until Dendall says his peace. Do you not know? Dendall speaks not with his mouth, but something at quite the opposite end of the spectrum. Because the damage to my arm is so perrilous, the doctors can only offer me solace for the damage to my brain by TUDE emissions.
So, after the blunt end of my arm is fully healed, I will be able to attach all kinds of cool prosthetic devices onto it, such as high-powered laser beams, purple-nurple exuberators, pink frilly feathers (for social settings), and, of course, the implanted blade, and, of hoarse, the RAGE retractor. Particles in the nose cause blackouts and seemingly uncivilized actions from otherwise normal law abiding citizens.
So we come to the final resolution: What shall I do now with jobs? Well, as in many other times in my life, I must trust God. I have been given a disturbed spirit, as my future has once again become uncertain. But, now I will be able to rely more on God instead of my stupid human intellect. Therefore, I leave the entirety of this chunk of maggoty meat for you and your fellow Uruk-Hai to divide and conquer.
Faregurgling
(I wonder if this is indeed an oxymoron, such as someone is a crapface and their face is covered with crap. For, if the two were true, the statement would just logically be saying that my face is covered with face)
In regards to rotten pumpkins, I had nothing to do with it.
But I did place peanuts and dihydrogen monoxide in a hairspray bottle once in the hopes of creating a pleasant aroma, only creating a pseudo-TUDE stench. My brother later tried to use it but, after finding it malfuntionatory, the room filled with microscopic particles of rotten peanuts carrying bacteria and toxins. I say no more, except to say that I probably should be sorry, but still find it extremely hilarious.
And as far as a wet dog goes, a shaved one is far better.
And, of course, furmented venom tastes like chicken.
A shove off in the opposite direction is the equivalent of the opposite of male-bonding. So ha.
Donmoot.
p.s. My drainage systems are malfunctioning, and the only remedy is rapid eye movement. But in order to reach this state, the frequency of my brain waves must decrease.
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