Here lies the untimely classic from the diaries of Riley R. Jackman; story #897 entitled, "Ma Fren Jebus Dobson da Christoffson." : "Phatboy, I got mono. Please remember to tell the orchestra that I would like "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart playing when they lower my coffin into the grave. I won't be a very happy dead person if things are not going to be my way. I want red and white roses and tonnes of cake and strawberry daquiries. Please also tell Clayton that he's not allowed to go unless his hair is blue or blond, not both. If Stacy wishes to join us, she must first endeavour on an epic journey through the gates of hell, and bring me back one thing, Batman's Head on a stake. On returning this to me, the rightful owner, I shall give her two choices: she may 1. Think about what she's done to the poor children of Etheopia by only giving 3 cents a day rather than 10 cents for etenity; 2. Go back to Birchmount and continue to be baligerant and goddamit i wanna break my foot of on her asssss. Actually, I'm the devil, so I decide. She gets no choices,........to hell with you beatch!!!!!! Wow penicillan works wonders......I'll say. HEY!!! I'm the only one here, Mable, get lost! Aren't your delicious football cookies with pieces of football goalposts in them almost done??? Get lost before I make your brains into gouloch........ough, Hungarian children wearing nothing, eating schnitzels. Thank you, and God bless...................tee hee. I only hope that this message reaches you in time. I need chocolate pudding and McDonalds'. Thank you for you cooperation, this is an old blackman hiding in the woods outside of a adults summercamp jerking off with a straw and a hammick signing off.
The vision the girl had of a man resembling Abraham Lincoln lurking in her bedroom was not nearly as disturbing as Mozart crying for help from the chesterfield. A man, stretching clearly 7 feet tall, hovering over him while immobilizing him with his misunderstood powers. And yet, you were in mind but only for the Malibu Rum. Things continue to disturb and it is not clear whether nurture or nature is the culprit. I do indeed have my suspicions and I will continue to baste the human ham (long pig) with both pineapple juice and honey mustard. Please do not undercook the scalloped potatoes as it will be a crime to dispose of them and I could not bear to look at the remnants in the trash bin. I trust you have now found me complete ML and I will dine with you at the Grandmother house when the "other" girl has attained the proper documentation for operating a motorcycle. The Pavlova was spectacular for the second time, but only for the starving Hungarian children, and I believe you did partake.
ML ... It still is not clear whether the white linen stretched across the pillow resembled white pasty flesh or the white pasty flesh was so bloated and deformed that it could be misidentified as a pillow beneath the clothing. We dined, regardless. You were in the basement and I in another place.
I always do enjoy replying to my own topic, if it does in fact get cold enough. Sometimes, when it rains, I like to look outside the sliding door and pretend I'm Fred Astaire, do a little jig, have a bottle of tequila, then hit the sack. Whether the day is October or the year is Tuesday, I enjoy alcoholic beverages. In conclusion, to my own topic, I am not a retard, just a lost little puppy, with no bowels.
Dearest Olive Oil; I have found that when baisting the children, you should only use a precise mixture of bleach and "r"emon grass and kitttttiiiii litter. How lovely. Now, on to the big kahuna......yesteryear as I was lounging in the laboratory, while contemplating the possibilities of pillow representing flesh, or oddly, the flesh representing, none .....other......than......the...... pillow, I found myself tripping over laboratory cockroach tophats, landing face down in a steaming, fresh pile of POOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOP-ey. It was quite an invigorating massage on the face. The poop is also a registered Missusse. Any-whooooo? I hope this message makes it before it is tooooo late, for the purple masturbating monkeys with so much facial hair are on to our plans of .................. And I fear that he will capture the jade nailgun from it's natural habitat in the jungles of western Brail. Live long and Greg Prosser, M. Lester
Cher ML, You make me nervous, if not paranoid. The Prosser, of which you speak, has profound powers and is known to be in league with the Tattler. I cannot even tolerate hearing the words spoken lest my eardrums explode and ooze an oily, albeit low calorie, substance. My cat has acquired a taste for this substance and begs it from me at any given opportunity. He disgusts me and I am loath to indulge him. "They" had warned me earlier that you might try and insinuate me into your demonical "plan". Now our kinship shall be revoked. The Batmobile is in for service and Alfred is on vacation in Mustique. He will slip a message to Princess "M" on my behalf. I only hope that it reaches her in time and she will be able to decipher it through her alcoholic haze and packaged pork product eating exploits.
the Prosser, of which we speak so blaitenly about is none other than the hairy wound escaping the leg of a good soccer game, with the proximity of the porkchops with limbs who are usually the ones running down the field to attack the icecream truck, as well as the man inside, screaming and hanging on for dear life, as the filthy animals, who should be dead, are running him down, taking his cones and cream. They stop, only to get thier heatrs beating again, to get thier arteries pumping blood again, and then it's back to the icecream truck and the helpless defendant who hurts inside. They try to rip the poor man apart in the same way they're forefathers ahd put them to the infermory during a close, but excellent game of backgammon. This was payback for all. They were so sick of being blamed for the way that speakers and muffins were being disposed at the owners expense,..............at this point, the porkies had no choice but to eat themselves, as well as the many spectators of this sunday afternoon soccer game, entitled, Prosser.
The Prosser to which I refer has absolutely nothing to do with escaping, hairy leg wounds or porkies eating themselves. Either you are deliberately altering the facts to suit one Anthony Richards or you have become utterly delusional. Either way, I do believe the dosage must be adjusted quickly or I fear the consequences will be dire! There is another man, who has come forward, begging my assistance in solving the age old riddle of "the cable guy". I do not believe I am remotely qualified to address this matter as I missed that episode on A&E "Ancient Mysteries". In truth, I feel that I cannot correspond with him directly on this matter since it starts me on a flesh tearing frenzy just contemplating it. I suspect he knows this already and is merely taunting me with the hope that I will hammer a sharpened popcicle stick through my left eye socket. There are those around us, ML, who wish us harm. Trust no one, including AR!!! I believe she may well be giving information to "them". I have a question for you. Do you think it would be advantageous to seek out acommodation within close proximity to an abattoir? I have given this much consideration.
this is directed to both Oliver and M. Lester Phd. As you both know i have finally revealled myself as Dr. Anthony Richard Esquire and i have made it quite clear that when i line you side by each it is quite evident that i am only a single entity in a sea of breast implants. or should i say running shoes... it really does get my goat that i have only one gender and cannot marry you both(mother/father) although i am not quite sure which on is which..anywho i do believe that our project to get Bill Clinton to eat my shorts was as successful as project a-sexual falcon. Dorothy i do believe in toats i do, i do ,i do!! onwards to the matter at hand.. this Prosser you speak of is my lover and i do not appreciate it when you speak ill of him..although i too belive that when he conforms with the taddler, i will rip off my very own flesh and pour acid in my eyes.. I am not sure if you recieved the documents sent to you regarding my hatred for Barbecuing my genitals unless they are basted in eye snot and sour milk, also my love for sonic the magical hedgehog.. reply as you must Dr.A. Richard Esq
Eat my sackeddy sack sack, yak donn comm back to the biting of the flakey hand that feeds yee........Up my nose and around the corner becomes the single and most valuable clue in finding the sickly relationship between that goat Ollie and that poor ole chapped lipped fella known in the world of Lokness as Dr. A. Richards/Rikards' Red Phd, i just ate a fifth of my hemerroids, dare me to drive??? Before signing off with a largish feltpen in solid ivory soap suds of a bitch,..........I have gone to the henhouse to fetch peter's pickelled peppppppers.....And so the saga of the retards keeps on transport truckin.....eat my face. M. Lester
Dear Mr Lester, It has come to my attention, the Richard Simmons has steped down as Jesus of the year, In his place the people have elected Rosie O'Donnel. What are your feelings on this travesty of just? Please sir, do not edit your true feelings.
at the risk of sounding uncultured....who the fuck is Rosie O'Donnel?? ------------------ Live Fast Die Young Leave a Goodlookin' Corpse
Now, here's a brighter idea than using oats as small children,.....the greatest times ever spent around the stove fire were those times at Aunt jamima's, and she's always putting things into my stamp collection, without asking. I can remember that one time she put a used tissue that had been upright in her bandana sleeve for almost a month. Then the moths started to appear with thier masks on. This, as you can probably imagine, scared me. Those ants that carry leaves and eat sluts and thier estranged parents. What it all comes down to is how the devil's haircut do they get the hair inside the can? Only time will tell, and if it doesn't, I'll hold him hostage in a small aircraft. M. Lester
does it have to be a small aircraft? that does limit ur range a but what about i big bastard 747? ------------------ Live Fast Die Young Leave a Goodlookin' Corpse
does it have to be a small aircraft? that does limit ur range a but what about a big bastard 747? ------------------ Live Fast Die Young Leave a Goodlookin' Corpse
It has come to my attention that I do not know how to use this device. In my mind it is merely a oversized toaster oven. I tried to post a message concerning all things larger than a breadbox. However i am not able to excavate the large wooden statue of Bob Saget. This has me quite perturbed and i fear that once i find the planters peanut man molesting the purple masturbating monkey, i will try to have his genital cut off... On to a matter of more impotence...imoortance i feel that Mr. M. Lester Phd. and Mrs. O. Retard (or vice verca)should exhibit characteristics of the ruby gardening hose. Bugs Bunny has asked me to relay this message to you on a matter of pure urgence. He seems to feel the same way as i... It is a crime to commit incest. One day all the Billy Bob's and Mary Sue's of the world will come to this realization and the world will once again be free of all nuclear wastage. At this time, and only this time John Wayne will come out of hiding and set the world into a frenzie of watermelons and rainbow souflee. Feel free to eat this message if you feel it will fall into the wrong hands, K Bye
As the ancient founder of the children's snack Crackerjacks, Jim Turd wandered to the exquisite sound that his tapdancing shoes made everytime he slammed his erect feet onto the upright chalkboard. "Everything smells like ejaculating sparrows.....goddamit, why can you stupid people respect the fact that I live off the steamy fresh dogshit on the sidewalks of Niger........." He turned aroud, only to find his love, Orville Redenbacher standing the moonlight in a thong and tophat viced to his wang with a paperclip and miles of raccoon endtrails aqcuired form his trips to the mountains of the Atlantic as a bisexual ocelot.....bear in mind that Jasper appeared out of the woodwork and claimed that he was Clint Eastwood. The vets put him down immediately. All of these interruptions to Jim's song and dance happy hour made him quite disgruntled,.......and only at this moment did he finaly understand would alcohol does to farm animals......liquor intoxicates wild immobile goats......and let me tell you....these goats were immobile alright. You Newfie, talk you library books back before things start to get messy with the phantom of the book store.....he drinks way too much jagermeister.......along with his newphew's balls......ack. You smell like chicken he said to Annette before he proceeded to buy Crocket and Bathemon a cup a coffaae. Taa Taa. M. Lester
