Hi all, how's life on this rock flying through space, obeying neither the heed nor whimsy of any living thing? Blindly hurtling through the known and unknown cosmos, we live in a stunted fragment of reality realized only through our pathetic, prehensile, pre-modern five senses.
Sight.
When I was a kid I really used to think that if I couldn't see you, you couldn't see me. I did not understand that spatial realities are entirely dependant on the subjects point of view. Literally. Because you were obscured from my vision did not in fact imply that you, from your entirely diffrent view point, that is, sensory positon relative to the event, could not see me in my entirety. If you did somehow see me, you'd just catch alot of jerking off, and that's not gonna be very entertaining except for me and my little buddy who I like to call poppy chulo. But what the fuck are you thinking about my dick for anyway, you fucking homo? Damn, go read some other pedophile web site, you fag. There's a great thread for you at Underage Teen Olympians.twat.
You know, I'm glad they have signs posted in the neighborhood when you move in now, you cho-mo. Now everyone can see the value of their house drop like a turd in the toilet cause there's a flashing christmas-lighted, eight by six foot, very durable, wrought iron sign planted directly ajacent to their property proclaiming in bold one hundred and eighty-five point curio font, "The guy who lives here likes to fuck little boys. Welcome to the homeowners association! Have your trashcans in by nine. Thank you."
Thanks for not growing up, sir, and just continuing to have sex with kids, you freak. Now sex itself is not a freaky thing, it's just that adults go to the dance or strip club, these guys snort angeldust and hit the Toys 'R' Us in their scooby do van, freeballin' it with those rip-off parachute pants. Have you ever noticed there's always someone in the bathroom at the Toys 'R' Us? And why is there a condom dispenser on the wall in there with a picture of Barney on it that reads, tokens only?

"I love you, you love me, homosexuality, with a knicknack paddywhack give the dog a bone, this old man came rolling home."
Just a little bit I pitched to American Idol.
So what's with the Jacksons, all at Michael's court hearing, decked out in white threads, like the fucking mutant mafia? I mean they were all there, they all drove up in a brigade white limos and media! We all know there have been major family spats over the wealth. Everyone says money will do that to a person, but I'm still eagerly waiting to find out. There are ten (that's 10!) counts againts M.J.! Kidnapping, drugging some kid up, and the child molestation charges.
The only reason I'm metioning this is that about two weeks earlier, Michaels defence asked the judge for a, I'm not kidding, a celebrity status of being sheilded from the first amendment in our bill of rights which states that Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press. Now this ridiculous argument, had the judge agreed with it, and anything is possible, would have excused the media from reporting that Mike likes to make bubbles in the tub with little boys. So when this request by the defence is obviously denied, the Jacksons do a 180 and engage in 'lets get on T.V., and all wear white, and project solidarity in this,- so we all look more like freaks then we already are.
You know, Catholicism is hurting right now, but wouldn't it be perfect if the pope hired Michael Jackson to promote the Vaticans stance on abstinace? Or better yet, if the pope kicked off, and M.J. sang at his funeral, with an all-boy back-up choir of course. Bishop Willard, an ex-partiarch out of Boston and fellow fry cook at Wendy's always advised me, snip the ballsack before they hit puberty, and you got a beautiful priest fucktoy that will sing like a lark for the next sixty years. It's brilliant really- good singing, plus good sex.
I'd probaly go in for Catholicism if I didn't like the system I got now. I die and that's it- cause I'm dead. Simple, efficient, voila! It's a great system. I don't want past shit coming back to catch up with me if we reincarnate. I'm living my life like James Dean, baby! As many credit cards as possible, all maxed out! Bagels and cream-cheese for breakfast, a greasy burger for lunch, fried chicked and alcohol for dinner! The fucking food pyramid? Hey, that's way to scientific for me. People accept things that science tells them is so every second of every day, but contrary to all the evidence that when you die you're really dead, that's it, forever, they draw the line.
The slick award goes to mormons. Now mormons get planets. I mean now come on, you're a young mormon buck, already saddled with twelve wives in nine counties, you're all in on the church-banking-tax-racket they got going with the IRS, and now they tell you your getting a fucking planet.
Apperantly, humility is not in the mormon vernacular.
So these two clean cut, brainwashed mormon boys came by our apartment complex, knocking on doors, spreading the faith on ten-speeds. I of course greeted them, accepted thier literature, and invited them in for some pixi-stix and ovaltine. While chatting with them about the tenants of the faith, I suavley hit play on the remote that ran to the soundsystem connected to the VCR feeding the television set which began broadcasting the classic seventies movie, Flash Gordon. While the pixi-stix may have addled the youths brains, as I had assured them you snort the stix, "That's right! Like in the movies!"- I announced I knew of the planets we would rule as galactic brothers in cosmic finality, through galactic armorment. The youths were brought to tears and then looked askew betwixt each other. It was then that I remembered that both the boys had introduced themseves as Dan. Abruptly, the two sprang up at pricisley the same moment, and dashed madly for the door. I yelled from the tiger print sofa, "Flash Gordon, Flash Gordon knows!" But to little avail.
The youngsters were last seen blowing truckers behind the greyhound terminal dumpsters for speed.

I am fully committed, I just realized this, I want a fucking planet, bitch! I'll pay the tithe! Hmmm. I will have to figure out what I'm gonna wear as the ruler of a planet. People will be looking. I will be importaint. Cool. My planet's gonna be the best!