That's not me in the corner, losing my dealt hand.
Can't recall & not because I've had a ball in between right-clicking & now but I believe this was a Cold War directive to chill out, a happy worker being a slacker worker at least until the vodka harvest needs to come in & then said worker can drown all the stuff he/she/it thought about whilst slacking, a beautiful prospect.
Check out my collection of rare lints
Implied segue into belly button ogling, not a bad thing worthy of a Chuck Barris gong,
some venture its due to the seasonal downturn inherent in (another stupid) summer, you heat-loving deviants know who you are, though the effort of carefully placing a linky smorgasbord on the electric page, 'tis traitorous to said slack, though gazing remains venerated.
Though I warn all ye sinners, the way to Seriousness® is a left hand path.
Everyone join in a vigorous alleluia.
Be joyful, for 99 and 44/100% of my cranial gunk's dumped in the black notebook because embarrassing the self is even more embarrassing in public.
Angel's looking a bit morbid
Ever backward,
youthful discretions of a sonic bent bent cochleae in a bloody happy way, but lo, going forward, what horrible attempts crush the design. Messy, unfocused, & worst,
powerless, melding of metal & influences extérieures, a
Roots for the twenty-first century,
Illud is a dud.
Spin the ancient disks, devilish grasshopper, & relax.
This is the end, my friend
Of this post. I'm under strict orders to отдыхать.
