Try it on for size
Goulet
Posts: 918
calamity jane aren't you a little curious?
look at the sign posts, how they sparkle and mist.
but really,
is there any business better then "Linko Mutters?"
patent pending,
patent pending,
patent pending.
they make those kind of guns
that go flash in the dark, jane.
they make those guns out of
mustard seeds, and also a little gumption.
but really,
if a person can hold a peice of chalk can't that person's brother
or sister or mother or aunt/uncle
think they're any kind of good,
and if so doesn't that make the world worth it.
jane it's part mystery and part lard, but all table butter,
you know the kind, the kind of butter one puts out on the table
but never as a signal that a lynch mob is coming,
never,
well maybe sometimes,
but not usually,
okay usually,
but it does melt after a little while.
but really,
what part of the mutton comes from the cow,
and how many times does a person
have to go through something like that?
and jane, which way is the post office?
i meant to send a post card the other day,
well last year,
well never,
but really,
no one ever has a tarp
when you really need it,
and they're always so uptight about
being asked for one,
and they're always ranting about life and religion
and books and literature and television and movies
(and films) and subtitles and awards and acheivements
and all that stuff that is boring and sucks,
and they're telling you, jane, to go get a job and be responsible
and take some action,
and they're always telling you to stop
doing the things you like
and start doing the things you hate,
which makes you hate the things you like and your parents,
and always there comes a time,
when they're telling you these things,
all these things that you only hear a few of
and listen to fewer,
a time when you need a cigarette and a drink
and a musket of some kind,
and you think your life is perfect
and you could go on like this forever or at least until you die,
and then they're telling you
that you'll never die,
that you go somewhere afterwards,
that you go up or down,
that you get tortured or burned,
or hanged
or you eat donuts all day,
that you sit in a lovely lounge chair drinking wine
and you're drunk all the time,
that you come back someday,
that when you do come back someday
you won't remember anything from your other life,
except when you pass a barn on some rural route 5
that makes you remember skinning your knee
when you fell off your bike when you were seven,
but that couldn't have happened in your life now
because you're just a stripped cat
sitting in the backseat of a ford or chevy or imported car.
but really,
i got off topic,
i just wanted to ask
if you ever thought the sky was a different color,
other then blue,
like we're both high or something,
and that could be a relevant question.
look at the sign posts, how they sparkle and mist.
but really,
is there any business better then "Linko Mutters?"
patent pending,
patent pending,
patent pending.
they make those kind of guns
that go flash in the dark, jane.
they make those guns out of
mustard seeds, and also a little gumption.
but really,
if a person can hold a peice of chalk can't that person's brother
or sister or mother or aunt/uncle
think they're any kind of good,
and if so doesn't that make the world worth it.
jane it's part mystery and part lard, but all table butter,
you know the kind, the kind of butter one puts out on the table
but never as a signal that a lynch mob is coming,
never,
well maybe sometimes,
but not usually,
okay usually,
but it does melt after a little while.
but really,
what part of the mutton comes from the cow,
and how many times does a person
have to go through something like that?
and jane, which way is the post office?
i meant to send a post card the other day,
well last year,
well never,
but really,
no one ever has a tarp
when you really need it,
and they're always so uptight about
being asked for one,
and they're always ranting about life and religion
and books and literature and television and movies
(and films) and subtitles and awards and acheivements
and all that stuff that is boring and sucks,
and they're telling you, jane, to go get a job and be responsible
and take some action,
and they're always telling you to stop
doing the things you like
and start doing the things you hate,
which makes you hate the things you like and your parents,
and always there comes a time,
when they're telling you these things,
all these things that you only hear a few of
and listen to fewer,
a time when you need a cigarette and a drink
and a musket of some kind,
and you think your life is perfect
and you could go on like this forever or at least until you die,
and then they're telling you
that you'll never die,
that you go somewhere afterwards,
that you go up or down,
that you get tortured or burned,
or hanged
or you eat donuts all day,
that you sit in a lovely lounge chair drinking wine
and you're drunk all the time,
that you come back someday,
that when you do come back someday
you won't remember anything from your other life,
except when you pass a barn on some rural route 5
that makes you remember skinning your knee
when you fell off your bike when you were seven,
but that couldn't have happened in your life now
because you're just a stripped cat
sitting in the backseat of a ford or chevy or imported car.
but really,
i got off topic,
i just wanted to ask
if you ever thought the sky was a different color,
other then blue,
like we're both high or something,
and that could be a relevant question.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
But I like it.
Thanks...
I loved it. Every fucking minute of it. Thank you thank you thank you for sharing it.
Goulet, everybody! Let's give 'im a hand! Amazing work, sir! And what's your inspiration, sir? Really? OF COURSE, we would only expect that from a talent such as yourself.
<applause>
I mean it. It was pretty darn good.
you just wait...
patiently as i am able.