Brain's drifting back in, lightly tethered n such. Still floating. Don't know what I'm supposed to do with this floatonator brain while my dick can't even go in first gear. These digits don't kronk like they used to. Back when I had an eighteen wheeler for a laptop, that shit did the clicks and the black and then I went about playing jacks in the interim period on Shakespeare plus. You remember Bongo's Mansion of Flimsy? They don't right them with shitstains like that anymore!

The ECU campus is wired into my brain. Best know the boundaries when you take your winky out. They taught us to go relaunch the tank in the atmosphere. That where hammer go. Space rank du pont freely. Obviously that's counterintelligence because the cops are retards like I was in t-ball, because them cops nowadays is like six years old. They're models too, but don't ask for pictures. That's a one way ticket to compound, state-sponsored anal influxuation.

I have never used my knowledge of how to make napalm in my life, outside of masturbation. I played in the sandbox after school but this was my grandmas so I ate the sand and then I was pronounced dead in center stage Nebraska, where Bill Hicks started his Alex Jones impression.

AIDS hates acetone so make sure to drink your own semen with a metal proctor eight inches in and out of the corn meal. Peter Prefontaine ran his ass off and then no more, so we tapered him into the neighborshphere. This is just a rendition for the records of time. They know why I'm here. Gilbert Motherfucking Gottfreid. Give him to me. I got the doggy ought six. Good bye.