Lop sau is a left-handed, overhand sweeping block against any right-hand attack...
There isn't enough ethyl alcohol, amber lager, manna, maple syrup, fissionable fuel...
...To power THIS engine. (Phuk!) (I was calling my butler, he's Vietnamese - so give me a break.)
I don't like running on low-energy fuels... like vegan food, clarinet solos, persistent bad luck at roulette, Aries chicks, 9-volt batteries, curried potatoes, fresh-water eels...
"Sorry, bio-diesel, you're a wuss - and you know it. You've heard it before me. You have a good personality, really. It's ME, not you. Yes, you're cute, but... Have a great life, though..."
Give me love and energy and release. Smiles. (Isn't that a Hindu god? Mah'sturb'ithra? Something like that... they've got everything already figured out in India, and there's a god for it. Seriously. Like Kali, the Bowler of Destruction. Hello? Have you seen the drawings? Hmm?)
If you don't like alcohol, you probably aren't over 18 yrs old, so please look for Disney programming elsewhere.
Good, they're gone.
Press this button. (Blogspot people, put a button HERE. Okay, HERE. Thanks, man. That check's in the mail, really. I thought I sent it out already, and you won't return my calls... Have you out-sourced the service department? Sas'rikal?)
Pink-clad princesses? Tutus? Prancing, spinning? Who are you kidding? That ersatz age ended 300 years ago. I remember all that shit, at least 250 years back, so don't pretend it hasn't already happened, because - yo, I was there.
Not that I don't love swords, but...
Good luck with that, pink-dinks! 'Pink' has never won a war. Ever. Pink doesn't win wars, and Everyone Knows That. Purple thought it would win once, after the French, but... pfhhht, they know now. Blue and green, baby. B&G FTW! Nature wins in the end. So many mushroom clouds in our planet's past, so many to go... But I regress.
Ton sau is a right-handed, strong circular sweep to clear...
Tonic KNOWS it. (I always underrated them. Like cheap beer, angel hair pasta, powdered saffron, lipstick lesbians... )
"If you could only see the way she loves me,
Maybe you would understand,
Why I feel this way about our love,
And what I must do..."
(I only like the first 33+ seconds of that song, not for the lyrics, but because of the acoustic guitar, so, the open-tuned chord changes... fuckin' delicious. Ethereal. Transcendental. (Do they give you nitrous for that? In the studio?))
FOR YOUR EYES ONLY -
(But WE are watching YOU if YOU read This, Hackers.)
At one point in my life, I knew when and where the US Dept. of Defense would go 'pretty orange.' (In the late 80's, that was something. (Like porno on beta.) NATO-Secret in that day, but - practically - useless information now. However, still rattling around my noggin, and back then they made me wear a .45 caliber to NOT talk... Aigghhhh.
Damn, quit twisting my arm, Pink! It was in the Michaelsrombach bowl, but before the Queck Bridge, westward-looking. If those Communist fucks got a heavy bridging unit to that piss-ant bridge... Ouch.)
Pastelly, permanent colors. Everlasting melty-metal neons. A rich splay of delicious, deathly beauty. Sinistre. You wouldn't want to see it, unless you were on 'E' or LSD or something equally palette-able. "It's pronounced 'Noo-kyoo-luhr.'" I always wanted to see just one, a faraway fission mushroom cloud, a localized devastaticon.
So pretty. Low-energy fuel. Fission.
Pak sau is a left-handed, slap-down control of the others' elbows. Better to aim it right, tie them up a bit.
But my testosterone diverges from the topic... (but, shit - explosions! They're soooo cool if you aren't IN them. The flash/shock wave is sublime, all-encompassing, unavoidable. Overpowering. Tasty. The closer, the better, right?)
I've been trained to be jaded. Indirectly. Women do that. Indirectly. No, wait, they do it directly.
You know you're out there - begin a glacier! - rubbing slowly against the world. Plowing over the terrain. Grinding - some would say, 'sanding.' Doesn't lessen it. Rubbing away at the pith and marrow.
Some of us will remember, that's our informal job. Don't pretend you're fusion.
I'll know the difference.
Keep waitin' for that cheun choi. Rabbit punches. I know I'll be waiting. Fusion waits forever, or until the fuel's expended.
The physicists have proven that. What can stop it? Not pink.
And what'll be on The Other Side?
I'm bettin' on blue and green. Fusion loves those two.
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