888, Pona--= Pon@[[[[[[ Pona Luisa, && Luicccccc$a, && ??Luis/a\, &mpers?d Hex %% CHeQueS]]]]]]]]====Itbos

Jibbit jibbit jibbit rou. Alkynomics never so. Alkyhonias about Perth
and Shoebaster are filled to the ribbons with is this too much frontmatter snaykes and snayles...DEVELOPOJIG...MORE...

12:15 a.m.
So I found another venue which ll be satisfying for a while. Or I exhausted it already.

08:34 a.m.
This (fourth I T E M) is what you get when you fuck with The Bard.
So, punk, what made you decide to do a 'modern version' of part of Lear?
I dunno, seems like everybody's been doin it.
Well then, Captain ... Brains, if 'everybody' was leapin off the Cliffs of Dover, sayin "yippee, c'mon we're havin a high time, sonny, this is almos' much fun as stagin a 'modern version' of King Lear!" woudj00 DO IT? Huh, ahfoahfsjb?

02:36 p.m.
No way, T S! April is the coolest month! April Ruuls!

April Aitth
You pizza crabcheese scimitar wanker, these are lies, this I get all the time, cat biscuit through my left nasal conduit. It's been two countum two months since I've addlated my seances. So squat your turnhole, Merry Marcus. Note that it may be have, meine damen und herren, been that I might be have to have been edited previous slots, altering them competently.

10:47 f.m.
In the last couple years Dagmarchili has been getting many emails complaining "No cheese meats yet, where's my cheese meats?" because I did promise cheese meats early in the game. I'm sorry but if you run a search on lickus dot com you'rll see that there is not cheese meats. You want a biker chick homepage, you say? Go off to lickus dot com and look up a biker chick homepage. I will not provide a parody biker chick homepage, dear 13 readrz who sent in requests for such. Dagmarchili knows very well and good who all these banbrom schlotzky pauhaczech my cowchie skeeeee and such other shishoshu. As that may be it, I'm here to let you get a geek on the other side of skronk. Go visit Robutch|Wizdock, it's been nice recently which that intersitting gertie, jefe artickle et cetera. PS, no bitchez 4 U, mr fancyass salisbury who know who are you. It's time you watch the A-Team again, it's time to go to powells.com and try to get your greasey + chary missing didgits on copies of la divina commedia as translated by Sinclair, which is an amazing translation. Just, like, the sheer brilliance of the last canto in inferno, so many inventions in so few pages, damn boy! I got 740 on sol.exe the other day, beat that thiophytes! Needless to say, . . . (philb in the blanc-- a ha) I saw my chem TA o boy/I hadn't been to class in half a year/and though my grades were rather bad/I just had to laugh/he hadn't done the math. Now if I could just eliminate these breasts. If you or anybody you own has breast-elimination tips, send them to dxaxgxmxaxrx_xcxhxixlxi axt hxoxtxmxaxixl dxoxt cxoxm. Thakn yuo.

10:27 p.m.
He's sorry to all the stretches lied to, all the trains lied to, I'd lite a fart afire if I had the bowels for it. I wuuldent want it to deskinerate, to pump into a little papshmear polka, now wuuld j00? He didn't think so, Hiney! In case she's wondering, he's gotten all these subservient abjectives fluuting around, "and didj00 ever hear of Kingpin Davey? What he did, he talked all about luutations, those damned luutations, on the usenet. 'Genrul Lee' I'd say he called himself." But he was a troll, no? Yeah, look him up on deja, jook up "luutations" -- Here, I'll try it right now. Yessahr! Nailed a steel 'orseshoecrab bang between his prim stiffies! oo-ee}}}}}}}}}} [O deja deja, "channels"?? How dem My-T-Fine gefaellt hat. "Whatsee talkin bout Edwurd?" "Sometin bout some slimy ole fish-hat, umthinks." buDHUM-choo!] What a bastard he is! I forgot. No troll, too obsessive, what a damned bastard.

Tee Bee
Scratch! Spit! I've a hooded hudlum now, It's lean and tall, and he sprained his ankle yesterday with Miz Henryk Slayar. Here is my porn about my cat: No I change. I ape you, if you don't pull that jocky lanceshooter off your horn horn horn. Today was a day that were wont to smack or lance a bopeep. Zzzk. O chocolate-laden bonbons, good for your health. Get some fresh peppermint, pork rinds, oven-cleanser, have yourself a good time. Go on, Les, I'll even throw in some 7-UP for ya. Complements on the house, he says. Zzzk. When that Aprille with her shoures sote the droghte of March hath perced to the rote and baythed every veyn in swich licor with which virtu engendered is the flour ... we went a-musselplucking. Everyone whose brain hasn't curdled knows it is a kind month. The fartpouch, Mr Eliot, should've learnt to keep his shitquizzling underpaps more modestly hid. Zzzk. I zizzuck to zizzuck now just to not be more beerlated. t' Be honest, hon, I says, t' be honest I'd say it was a pap shmear. t' Be honest I'd say it was the law.

09:03 a.m.
Now you know Dagmar comes from the heart, and you know from Chili comes less heartburn than raw eggs, so why you wanatty say somesong like that? Dagmar might be mangeling these lists; I don't think so cauz I know he's pisst. Chili has a ticket to the show; see him see the nudies long and low. Parsimony is the owl's best friend; I know cauz he comes back time and again. Pieces of the glocken to and fro; I love them cauz they got no place to go. Rip the packet of the oaty meal; sprinkly oaties on the roasted veal. The skank, she hit Paul Mathmaids in pursuit; boot scoot loot foot you choose, complete this lovely pome. Wot, apples pennyreach? Wot, no char?

08:57 a.m.
This is for my loyal lovers. This is dapty finch and entropeak of maffiller. Good floaks! Go greet them, now!

04:29 p.m.
I, Dagmar Chili, am going into league with a few others (see below) and saying, "fuck memes." Reject them, especially the current spurious & immanent ones that are immediately called by the garvintish name 'pon inception & reception. Ab gargamel markitty, ab holocene moarkely.

09:53 a.m.
I remain in ichor that I remain in sincerely obtain you that you remove your nagivation toolbar where you type, and make DAGMAR CHILI YOU r home page site to start up upon, and there you have all you kneed, no kneed to TYPE!!!!!!

09:50 a.m.
Bratche has now put up a columbian encyclical at a equals aitch tee tee pee COLON et cetera dubble_yoo dubble_yoo dubble_yoo bartley.con. And if you fain figure it out it's a free piece of meats to you in the postage systole.

09:36 a.m.
Babarabadaldoch, babarabadaldoch.
Precious poophead, you're the one, preciouspoophead, you're so fun, precious poophead, etc. to the toon of Woolly Boolly. No expounding Collected Poems of Robert Penn Warren, Stevens, Ammons, the Principia, Schopenhauer, Roget, the Blue and Brown Books, Goethe, Dickinson, Radhakrishnan and Shakespeare.

05:28 p.m.
Now here we are at Wilber's Iron Circuit, straddling the Mall and the Oysterhouse, which from 1932 to 1959 was the home of his reknowned Eternal God Train, a home-made train set modeled realistically after Jerusalem in the time of Christ. Wilber died in 1972, thirteen years after the Eternal God Train blew its circuits when like the totally oh man shit exploding like fireworks in the winter flying totally twohundred feet into the sky, pouring shimmering liquid into the milky way galaxy, the aliens came and brought us to the land of marihuana-plants where like every plant there is is a marihuana-plant and there's shimmering liquid in everyone's cups, and they talk so fast the sky falls into flame and burns a hole in the stratosphere and asteroids burning and comets churning pummel the cords of cement bracing the intergalactic foundation's headquarters, mere pebbles to the titanic races of aliens invading the planet. That, folks, is a quote of Wilber's from the final days of the shop's presence at the Illkamamie waterfront, recorded by a stealthy and wealthy Steelers-fan, loyal and worsted, tried and trooped.

Insensible missiles. Churning my clock's works. Mad man's epistles. Hear those noisy jerks? They've been at it since two the pond will keep them warm when they're thrown out for the swans to peck. Stirling, the chauffeur, hands back a handkerchief branded in Persepolis.

I thought I had encephalitis. My scalp itched in the winter when I wore those fur coats with fun hats. I rode the boat from Whitsun Bay to Cloggy Reef. I was the first to speak on topics like "Abuse," "Abortion," "Misuse," and "Malpractice." Before the lady's club I'd put on quite the show, but then the XXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXX-XXXX.

-0-9-8-President DeMilles-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-

There, put that there, in the socket by the three-pronger by the shuttlefaucet by the abuse ramp. Very good, now shovel in the hovel my mother, dear Stacy. She has lice, and mice climb up the obscene stockings her mother wears.

Hanbury goat, indifferent and miserable, come out of the toolshed, stop chewing grapes and probably Israel will reward your misfortune as She often does, triples your money back or buys you new gloves. Have you chewed on those skates? Ah, damn. They're ruined. Now the littl'ns aren't going to skate at all when Father Winter's ice sheaths the lake once more and they are free from sholastic bondage. I shall kill ye, goat, I shall.

This was called "Hansbury in the Milkcow" and it was not well-liked. Here are some analyses:

The cow is a homeopathic birth control pill. The booties represent Alice in Wonderland, when she drank the potion that turned her into a bottle of chablis. Long ago, a story was current about a pair of sisters who cut each other's legs off to make borax bottles from the bones, and this the borax bottles do connotate.

Watch me go from ten to nine in ten seconds. ... There. Now there's a new patch on the market that will cure up your scarecrow eyes. It's called Scarecrowtrol and it's availiable from fine grocers and pediatricians' offices in your area. Ask for it by name: Scarecrowtrol.

Try and find an axiomatick relation between all stories herein. You won't. You know why? Because you're a fucking idiot. Whoever you are, I don't care, because you are such a great idiot and have the paranoid fantasies about vigilantes trying to nab your ass for the warlords of the Dog Star and haul them back home a hundred times flayed, a hundred times!

Clinton is just sitting there in his favorite chair, laughing quietly to himself. Hillary tells her guest that it is said to be great therapy. They share a bottle of champaigne, and make chicken salad. They experience nostalgia.

Roll, roll my bundle away,
'Neath the tree I'll hap'ly lay,
Roll, roll, roll my bundle away.

Roll, roll my bundle away,
Over the ocean hap'ly play,
Roll, roll, roll my bundle away.

Roll, roll my bundle away,
I shall bow and solemnly pray,
Roll, roll, roll my bundle away.

Roll, roll my bundle away,
In grandfather's shed the hound-dogs bay,
Roll, roll, roll my bundle away.

Roll, roll my bundle away,
Between thine arms I hap'ly do lay,
Roll, roll, roll my bundle away.

02:17 p.m.
What we've got here is a pile of dust. Sniff it, it's the genuine article. Smells like rubber, smells like lead. But now, see, as we pull the handpipe, the monkey twitches like a junky squirrel. Now smell it again, please. Smell like glue this time, don't it? If you fuck the procedure a sufficient number of repetitions, you run the risk of smelling like peanuts and wet cement all the time.

Olly Olly Olly is the smallish miss Apapa, how she raises a hubbub and cancels smacketty-smack don't-come-back cherries all over this blurb! Let our motto be what.