that operates between Iran and Syria
there remain outposts of tyranny
with oppressed people on every continent
signs of the triangle of wickedness
America and their hired agents
Showing newest posts with label fluoridization. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label fluoridization. Show older posts
"The Case of the Seaghosts vs. United States of America Aircraft Carrier"
or
"Great Naval Battles: Sand Diego Spook-Out"
or
(what if it's a Ghost United States of America Aircraft Carrier, what then)
or
"Floating Boots or Something? Napkins and a Yellow Dinner Plate?"
"true theatrical tradition"
The audience is said to have applauded what they thought was a stunning special effect, and only realised something was wrong when the actor staggered off stage to receive treatment.
an ACTOR is to SLITTING HIS OWN THROAT WITH A REAL KNIFE
as
a POET is to WRITING POEMS IN A LANGUAGE HE DOES NOT KNOW
as
a BANKER is to USING CURRENCY AS A COLORING BOOK
as
a PRIEST is to FASTENING A LEASH AND COLLAR TO A CRUCIFIX
as
a PRESIDENT is to EXECUTIVE ORDERS OUTLAWING EXECUTIVES
as
an UNDERTAKER is to SELF-IMMOLATION VIETNAMESE MONK STYLE
as
a DOCTOR is to DRINKING FROM THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH
as
an ARCHITECT is to LIVING IN A CAVE
as
a PET SITTER is to GIVING DOGS MDMA
as
a DENTIST is to CHEWING TEETH
&c.
"such soft hands"
A dentist told me: “you have a very rough tongue; you’ll need to brush your tongue extra hard when you brush your teeth.”
Nobody else has ever commented on the texture of my tongue, and I have never commented to anyone on the texture of her tongue. Though I have noticed a number of different tongue textures.
I’ve talked to girls about their hair, their lips, their breasts, their tummies their asses, toes, the length of their labia, more. In turn, I’ve been described my most-of-the-above, but also my cock and scrotum, my voice, the scars on my back, the taste of my mouth and breath.
a lot of the desire for physical and emotional intimacy comes from a desire for self-recognition. In this way, physical and emotional intimacy are lyric poems.
One of the worst things: you’re on an operating table, supposedly under general anesthetic. But, of course, you’re awake. And the doctors who are saving your life and have your chest cut open and pulled apart, first their words are hazy and slippery, but before you can begin to try to move your face and throat muscles to tell them you’re coming to, you realize: they are making fun of your organs. You have an ugly spleen. Your lungs are like those of a two-year-old. Your heart, they laugh, won’t last another five years, so they’re glad their getting paid for their work today.
Anyone in the food service industry (esp. front of the house) who is not an alcoholic has either
A) a pervasive and grotesque love for happy customers, and an abiding desire to understand and correct trivial unhappiness
B) a meticulously sculpted personality that is only put on for the job
“A” would be wild to figure out, if it can be found
“B” is wild too, especially with full-time servers. this personality must be able to swallow shit without blinking, to display with every bit of body language (smiling with the eyes) a value system completely foreign to the [server’s] true internal life. Most importantly, when this personality is put away, it must detach completely.
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