Sadly, this sort of sign has never been attached to anything close to a room where I have enjoyed having nerve endings. I still hold out hope, though...

Just came home from getting groceries, and am still amazed by the pinks, glorps, and NPCs walking by, driving by, and shopping, and paying no attention to the eyes of the buildings watching them, the giant robots stomping over the Irving oil storage tanks, the tentacles waving from the faces of the aliens, the X-ist drones watching me, or the clouds of severed heads hanging over the churches. These humans are truly blind.

Out of all the experiences I've ever had, both public and private, I miss BDSM's subspace the most. The feeling of pain no longer mattering...such sweet drifting bliss.

What confuses me is why 150 mourners would come to a funeral and all eat the same food? If the widow could afford enough food for 150 people, you'd think she could manage a little variety??

I think I need something stronger than coffee this morning. It was a pisshole of a night. Found this in my mailbox.

Here's an idea for a front lawn decoration. The corpse is smiling north, as an aid to navigation.

This is , quite possibly, the most useful New Age bullshit
I have ever come across. Feel free to reionize the electrons as much as you feel you need to, and write your own bullshit book. Eat that, Deepak Chopra! sebpearce.com/bullshit/

My my my, who's been looking into the dark side of my history?

Trickery brings both pleasure and pain. Colorful clay rains heavily. Clear water does not make any sense. Whiskey on the table tests the thesis that your theorem would unleash. The person you were before approaches at high velocity! "Bob" will take you to places you never expected not to visit! The clear star that is SLACK wanted the TRUTH! Significant understanding does not make any sense.

This could be inconvenient. Then again, everyone might have a different X-Day. Who can judge "Bob"?

Here's an idea: if you hate, HATE WITH PURPOSE, AND HATE EQUALLY. See a pink, remove the problem.

Hey, "Bob"! I dun foun' me a girlfriend, and she's smellin' like she likes me a whole lot. Praise yer Pipe.

Take the slack as you can find it, and be thankful unto "Bob" for your share.

Somewhere out there, he still waits, explosives in hand, and watches for his immortal enemy.

It's handy to have photos like this, just in case you need to contact operatives.

My mother and father, Bernice and Allister George. "Bob", but I miss them.

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