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Socket simple is notorious in this regard.
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Fond, and lo! how it's running, it was in 99-07-18.doc, Tom:
Sir Charles Eldredge Macafie shook the two Turkie-Sandwiches Side to Side, slowly, and Said to Miss Nancy Kinneridge, of Boston, Massachusetts, "O Honkie-honkie, Baby! Which One do You want In You?"
"Oh Chuck you do jest!"
Hyvix, Vyvyan (transmission clo, if you try to figure out the VERY NEXT LETTER, you get into truckle) that's the sort of thing that comes out when one's floating.
And, if it was in the same September, that the strangest nest I've ever seen landed in the compost pile (saw it sent in before the hives), and was moving me to sing,
Think me have, fightin' moltin' pidgin,
fightin' moltin' pidgin,
fightin' moltin' pidgin!
Think me have, fightin' moltin' pidgin,
and mighty dead bee as well.
-- if that is so, than the rest may be as well.
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now, suddenly There's a good way to go to hell, that cant could be the faked naked: I don't know a god-damned word, but I hear that one of them's spelt with three m's.It doesn't gfigure, it doesn;t add up. It's pleasanter than smuggling some prawns out, wrapped in a doily. Those here weren't sturdied mess-ups, it's that I'm got a felt-tipped pen caught under the dashboard & am driving with my knee, one hand free. Did I ever present thay Englidhman's comments about the turky-sandwich? I'll havet= look it up. It's pretty bad.
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Set, for the yowzers' sake, it's very elaborate, it has endnotes. It even has fins:
A huge goosenut under hazed egg, licorice chessmen, and marzipan prawns, neuwrothentick, er, the curtainest exilio: it's pink-chinned Ernest Blutts,1 full of spider gravy and speechless juice! (But when you go to greet his cheek, when shaken, unmoored, he's lines.)
Blutts testifies for one Lanton Pootheno, on one Odelahehoo Pootheno sharp. He had atrophied scruples, a singly stemmed bunch of homemade mechanical turds.2 So he took a knife to them. He said, "I thought, Agath Inuk, and lo! was arisen, my unconseheahuscious chartered. I just get to say that? Like that? I mean, Lanton Pootheno is sharp, go greet him if you want to get to launch the garbage truck from Fat Daddy Meatball's garage."
I can't decipher the rest of it, since Blutts is puked all over it.
Now, trimmed, this means: efference and highest blinkingness ... dammit, Tony: efference is charm! I see ten thousand pretend biologists, uh ... trying to think of something ... trying to lay down the charm. I'm partially chimp.
Further note, you come here for contumely, leave your knife with Blutts. This is for people hankering for talk of, say, sperm and soda-water. We don't host those kinds of parties. We only eat soup that rhymes, or has more than two kinds of potatoes in it. We empty the pantry ... holy shit, it had chocolate and pine nuts in it.
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"When the bones of King Arthur were digged up, the old Race might think, they beheld therein some Originals of themselves; Unto these of our Urnes none here can pretend relation, and can only behold the Reliques of those persons, who in their life giving the Laws unto their predecessors, after long obscurity, now lye at their mercies. But remembring the early civility they brought upon these Countreys, and forgetting long passed mischiefs; We mercifully preserve their bones, and pisse not upon their ashes." -- Sir Thos. Browne, Hydriotaphia
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Letsy if an get an other gallons on a the hibble back pine, the sick trophy,
There he spoke fully Aergernussen
To the Centurio Titiussen:
"Kam'rad, zeuch your sword out
And from the rear me through boron,
Since nevertheless everything futsch is."
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Hi guys, the adamgar_chainmail societies home page on the WWW internet has been updated to provide a rootling and tootling new negated portrait of Wilber "Will Power" Chancreface, who eats pigs!
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Say a man were to wind into it: would it be seltsam? would it be grave? It wouldn't be for property, same as pie crusts ... grave? Unreserved shitting? I didn't know Wenceslaus had it in him! Wenceslaus coughed it up again, and they got a cop to sip him.
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Already, it's distribution hour!
And likely mine own emanation.
I like to be pedant,
slip watch for an hour!
And likely to be copyright 1975 by Toody Products, got their production line down by the depot, pickup snails on the production line, and later distribution to dogs. Get measles.
Go out and greet the findings.
If I've ever garbled anything for you, specifically that on-time thing, it was meant for my little autobiographer's flipping winds.
Hopscotch and pluck's peak,
it was lain amongst the findings. Roger be god!
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I got my bottle, boys & girls, and now I'm takin it to the cross. This ought to get more erratic as we head thru. I am really the slick entire of that Internet "Joseph-or-one-of-his-brothers-or-another" Explorer, becasue, you see, it just is funky. But it's got no style. Uhh ... because I'm a hypocrite? ... and sewing AunI forget wath. I was goit at Edward a new pair of pyjamis? Once wrecked a soda jerk at the annoyingly dialectical burnt-turkey villI s probably shouldnt aoughta pmake apmsy spelef disytage, the Sun-risen Moon Expanse. What prompted that, what provoked it, what poppie cock-faced that?
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Verrocchio's son painter it don't say, just something to hang the blisters on. At the time I was screaming, visibly enthused.
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I had to explain why all those communists didn't like me, and it was taking time. So I tied off my shoe, and had at it. It took thirty-two lessons to burn through. Soon I was taking thirty-second recesses to deactivate my hairpiece....
I had an activated hairpiece once, and it took a Scarlatti-or-someone harp sonata to get the heavenliest lesions removed. I had to have expected it: you just can't take a jam bone home alone in a coffin. Well, another twenty-eight miles to Christ, and oh my aching back.
Radio conversation with computer yields music of spheres, ludicrous interludes.... There's a way to close your eyes require & that's to put in and have the irritate of eyes.... She's got fluorescent water gumboots, hey hey, down by her toes, and she'll bust in a millennial chocolate column, hey where she goes.
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"a stately sponsor of trucking", but I spuspiect ap Fueling favors out the FBI window, wink wink
1 He is puked. All through his trumpet, and onto the file. BOY, IS HE MAD NOW! HE'S SWIMMING IN IT! Key thought: swimming in something of one's own, like a pond or backyard pool.
2 Turds work! They seem to just sit there, but in fact they toil and spin. Regarding the whole: it may have been molasses, but it's somethin.
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