A Sippy-poo or two of the new and amazing drink I have stumbled upon and we are off to the races.
I already feel it kicking in. Whoa, that is thought provoking, which is good.
I like me those b12s. I like natural stimulants.
I feel the buzz, buzz, buzz, and I take me another Sippy-poo or two because cuz’,cuz’ I can.
Yeah, BOI, I am feeling it now, that rush, man, it is like wow, you know, man?
If they don’t care, I don’t care. Actually if they do care, I still don’t care, but I am sure you all are well aware.
Oh on the contraire, they do and you do, and when we all do, we fair quite well.
Oh, I so see you’re back, back again, because I lack discipline. Me and my double chinney-chin-chin.
This just in, I am kickin’ it solo. Solo Pedro. Negro. Big toe. Alamo. Fo show. After glow.
Ah, man this is going to be hard at the rate I am goin’. And de rush is fading, vading very qwickly.
Another Sippy-poo for me but none-for-you. Hehehe. Well, maybe, it would be the ideal capitalistic thing to do, and right now in the heap of shit we are in, it would be patriotic, right; Everybody loves Patriots, right? Go Patriots!
I am kind of just throwing it out there, seeing where it takes me. I kind of know though, that I don’t know shit, so with that I know it all, or at least I can pretend I that I do by simply staying quiet when I don’t; and wouldn’t you know it works. And with that, let us talk about love.
What is love, and how does each gender perceive love? (Now this is an up and coming write up, maybe, if it isn’t a just a really simple difference in the two sexes, but I don’t want none-of-ya stealin’ this one, so hands off, umm kay?)
(A quick shave and I am back, now where was I?)
The standard perception is that a man is required to love the woman for who she is and accept her as long as she is willing to accept his ways, but on the other hand the woman has standards that must be met and upheld through the duration of the relationship, and if her needs are not met the relationship is terminated. I want to explore this theory more at a later date and time but my half hour is almost up and I just worked Mr. Fingaz to death. And, after this sentence I am only 82 words short. All I have to say to that is, come on Mr. Fingaz.
What does a man gotta do to get some gangster love around here. I mean am bustin' my ass jumpin’ over all these hurdles, yours and mine combined, and god damnit god I want some more power. I can handle it. I swear.
Or I might just be doing all this for the attention, like I am some kind of selfish bastard. Which I am, but perhaps the crap I am subjected to is for a reason.
What would that be?
Ah well, who cares? We are just little radar blips on this mortal coil. Nothing spectacular, nothing special, just bored little monkeys trying to stay entertained while we are still riding around on this huge mud clot in space. However, that translucent, intangible, all-encompassing thing we call power has screwed up our time we would have found best suited for soaking up rays of the sunshine while catching a couple winks, but due to the uncontrollable factors of our demented minds we follow along like the little Sheeple we have become. In addition, to gain some of this power for ourselves we allow the faulty perceptions of others to rule our thinking and actions, to dictate our destination, to control our fate, to make our moves for us. That might be just fine for some of you, but I am not an audience member of someone else’s play, I am always front and center.
All right, back into the gilded cage with you.
Yes, sir: right away, sir. (Shuts and locks the cage door.)
It ain’t nothing but a chicken wing.
I was born a caged Canary meant to wash away the treachery by constantly singing in hopes for freedom.
I am a slave to my passion.
So, I am on strike, nothing but non-sense from here on out, white noise.
Void to Mr. Fingaz. Come in Mr. Fingaz. Do you read me Mr. Fingaz?
Actually, I am having troubles remembering how to spell Mr. Fingers name, hold on a second while I check.
Ah I see, I was correct all along, but I do see a problem. I am asking you to pause while I am writing, and there are no dramatic pauses when you are reading to yourself. Well, if you’re me, then maybe, but I don’t even do it all the time. I only do this when the book is a little slow or the text is boring. Nothing to worry about, I am fine. I would actually be willing to bet this is more common than you think, and I am just being revolutionary with my selfish attempts to draw the reader in with this gimmick,or for lack of better words, this single proof bullshit.
Yeah all you alcoholics should be going nuts over that pun.
I had something more to say about my own admiration of the last sentence in that haphazard paragraph but that is what happens when you tap into the feedz. Ideas are lost to make room for new Ideas, better Ideas, Ideas with potential. We all like potential.
Potential Energy is awesome.
Yes. Totally awe inspiring.
Did you know you just passed a thousand words? This new tactic in shooting the bullshit is really working out.
Working out with bullshit?
Working out is bullshit!
Yes. I would agree. Yes it activates and stimulates your lymph nodes, but lifting weights only builds muscles you rarely use. It is pointless unless you are doing it for the vainity. But if you're not, do some actual work if you want to work out. Get something accomplished and if you still have the energy when the sun goes down then, and only then, you may go to the gym and pump iron. Until that point, it is a complete and utter waste of time, and time is very valuable. Once it is gone, it is gone. There is no getting it back.
Yeah, hello, I would like to return the last 15 years of my life. I have a few regrets about how I spent the time.
Oh! Big-Willie's world doesn’t have an exchange program for my misspent youth? Shucks.