Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Slammin' Genesis Controllers like a Clapper-Clawed Clack-Dish

No tawdry accoutrements here, just the filth. Probably at least half of this stuff comes from conversations that Pritchard "overheard" while assembling his morning repast (eggs over-hard, ham [ed: long "a" on the "ham" -- like Paaants], cat parts, Alka Seltzer tablet, clodhoppers, tumbler of OJ) beneath our ventilation ducts.

  • Horse labour for pig wages, I tell you!

  • Why Paris Stronach's campaign for a better Canastia is so much rigamarole (not to mention shrill-gorged hoo-ha).

  • And lastly, if you haven't yet, print out and read that Dominion in case your loggerheaded slattern of a maid threw out your copy of The Walrus while dusting behind the dead plant.


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