Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Bath Tub Gin Production 

too much tender drat when look it's like this. there's that 'AMERICAN' bring it on that China name of lodge your angel. you'd speak screaming over the noise but what are they doing? the point being the touchy tendril of this clutch of community, so to speak. there's an impaled while explaining the nicer aspects of sweatshops your savings. your China owns uranium like who knows what. it's up the bike path into dreams of full-fledged lama drama, top of the day, bejesus just that simple. bottom of the day is a few misdeeds, compunctions meeting political history. scoobie treats for requiem, Tibet at the bottom of the top of the middle way, fairway. see, it's golf among nations in your seeing, mind field wouldn't look so bad. mine field, your field, any China storm is America, land of the spine. today's gone to the title of narrative while erstwhile Vietnam provokes a scandal called the 60s. but numbers don't matter. two died to be less than one. one died a million times. voter turn out died a many times, closer to reproach than a billion. turn out times loss equals system. system thanks your lucky stars, each and every mountain in the way. wayside is Jack Kerouac, who cared in seven pieces, each piece with a name and product code. symbols were tormorrow expressed as a statue. statues were where we left the victims. angels left Baghdad, turned to a country here and there. Our New England Patriots (foot balls) divided by cogent apt rephrasing lost in space plus the deigning vigour of commercial pity, brought over from elsewhere and carry the one. where the equal sign rests, so rests the rest of language. you were expecting more, but the bassist fell asleep.

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