I'm always into checking the old site meter
There's always some strange stuff, but this search that lead to A&S is probably my favorite so far.
The clinch is that it was a French surf.
There's always some strange stuff, but this search that lead to A&S is probably my favorite so far.
The clinch is that it was a French surf.
Slopped by
sarcasmus
at
7:17 AM
1 slops
Label: god warriors, Lyndon LaRouche, Tom Selleck, Tom Selleck and Lyndon LaRouche
So, upon closer examination with phot-imaging software, what is this that I detect?
Burgeoning facial hair? Or drinking too much of the camel blood and milk concoction the nomads gave you in their yurt on the steppe? Hmmmm...interesting, who can tell? As you all may know, it takes yer average Jackson Male at least fifteen years' time to grow any sort of socially acceptable facial hair.
Here's our Father's 'stache, enhanced with photo-manipulation software:
He grew it over thirty years ago, and he will never shave it off...because he knows it will take too long...if you get what I mean...
I wonder...was it more full a few weeks ago, and you shaved it off as some sort of dowry for a Mongolian princess, and her father was so insulted by its wispiness you had to speed across the lowlands in a stolen Yugo?
The mind races with possibilities...
While I know I can't grow a 'stache, I've been growing these muttonchops since High School...just look at them beauties!
“…it’s hard to resist your own substance, you’d like to stop all this, give yourself time to think about it and listen without difficulty to your heartbeat, but it’s too late for that. This thing can never stop. This enormous steel box is on a collision course; we, inside it, are whirling madly with the machines and the Earth. All together, along with the thousands of little wheels and hammers that never strike at the same time, that make noises which shatter one another, some so violent that they release a kind of silence around them, which makes you feel a little better. You give into noise as you give in to war. As the machines you let yourself go with the two three ideas that are wobbling about at the top of your head. And that’s the end. From then on everything you look at, everything you touch is hard. And everything you still manage to remember more or less becomes as rigid as iron and loses its savor in your thoughts.” Celine, Journey to the End of the Night
“It’s not that I like the empire—I hate it—but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.” Luke Skywalker, Star Wars