[ed. note: backstabbing's hard work, I know that. I also know that this pointless state (mini ed. note: not State™) was postponed & altered from tomorrow due to yesterday's half-imaginary, half-beast Storm of the Yeti & dude, there's the title of my prog-stoner-death band if ever I start one.]
Yearning to be a part of something bigger than yourself, proletariat scum?
Bloods, Crips, Latin Kings or Mikoyan-Gurevich not cutting the mustard?
Cthulhu is the solution to your self-esteem problems!
[even more ed. note: look man, as I type (mini ed. note no. 2: typed) this, some jackass is power drilling the latest in grindcore riffs in either subterranean confines or Arctic Blast We're All Going To Ice Cubify Doppler Five Trillion™ (mini ed. note no. 3: see, I told you) while I'm trying to YouTube even more shit for this overflowing poubelle so turn it off you unknown bastard, everyone sing with me, nyet to disentertainment, disintertainment if you're an already-frozen hepcat corpse. Some of this is written
ИА! ИА!
*yes, I did in fact unknowingly provide hospitality to a woebegone traveler from said locale (thus proving the maxim gorky that bad taste flourishes in all climes), according to the internets an abundant source of mail-order brides but if you think I'm going down that road, you're mistaken. One hitching's quite enough, Ola.
Rage against the iterative machine, Norway, join these billion Away All Synapses floating & darting & tacking about the gaps like some acidlogged Hitchcockian ornithology, to all the memories I've loved before. Run run run, act now & have sensible insanity slashed direct into your brain for one easy installment of 2000 gold pieces, three rolls of Treasure Type Q & a quietus heard by no one, somnambulists are standing by.
