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I am here to make a difference, isn't that why we're all here?

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Lead Astray

2014-12-30 15:54:12 by nietzlawe

LEAD ASTRAY

One shot of Cherry Brandy was all it took to fall into deep intoxication. To become a different person, a proxy, empowered like nothing can stop me. Bellowing like Brian Blessed... but the less said about that the better, like a dozen Fiery Onion butter Rings that we shove in the oven and immediately glutton... Get ya glut on motherfucker... Why do that? We'd rather suffer from Burnout and get stuffed in Paul Bearer's urn. Howard Stern and Arn Anderson and Colonel Sanders who for some reason looks like Rolf Harris, in fact we're Rollin' on the Floor Laughin' gaspin for air graspin' for an oxygen mask that's not there... Scared stiff like a wordsmith that can't even spell the word - Smith. That's the worst shit we've ever heard Winston, like the time we eavesdropped on the man with diarrhoea's droppings. This shit writes itself... Direct hit like DirectX, sex that gets directly to the point - a derectionX. Highly delectable like a nice selection of women covered in fresh Sushi and vegetables... Lying there perfectly still, having parts eaten from their bodies like a strategic game of Jenga or Breakout Brixxx. Masterminded by none other than the Parker Brothers... Why would you say None Other? We all know that the Parker Bruvvers were responsible for this madness! These murders. Murders? Yeah, human interaction man, fuck Monopoly man, in my day it was all about Charades, now its all Monopoly and Duopoly and Polyamorous relationships that aren't glamourous. That marriage is a sham baby, trust me, the romance has fizzled out quicker than semen drizzle cake, barely enough dribbles left and now the quibbles have replaced the wolf whistles. Marrage? More like marred in an age plagued by divorce, a playground for insane amounts of coarse action... We're living in a World Gone sour and Mad like Sourz liqueur, who the fuck thought that turning to alcohol would be the cure? How come we didn't see that The Cure album was the solution? You're so disillusioned if you think that! Don't diss Distilled water unless its been pissed in.. you're on dis subject still? Creepy shit, like people who can pull their eyelids over their entire face and go into hiding like hedgehogs during the winter... Those fucking fraudsters and spinsters! Hiding from the cold but secretly having hedge orgies. Its just us Humanians that have lost our way and forgotten who we were before we were stripped down nekkid and forced to use Blekko search engine. Its time to let go of Blekko and stop being such inanimate pieces of Lego... ver, tigo, FrenZi... The world has got tense and ISIS are not acting nice because they have run out of Basmati rice. Hi sis, can you pick me up some skimmed mit'milken'einen? The time has come to unload the contents of discontent on the Disco Tent. Flip the table and all the Risk pieces, smash pricks and impale them on Pogo Sticks, then feed the remaining bits to impalas. Mostly those in Parliament who don't care how much sod is uprooted to frack, don't care how much of a Ruckus wireless they cause, which just shows what is needed is an uprooting, upheaval to remove the evil people... VIVA LA REVOLUSS-EON! Everything is a parody these days, if Hitler was alive today he'd be a fucking MEME and the butt of a 1000 flash movies. What next? Knot wex? Andy Stott Passed Me By and I don't understand why I never noticed until Eric brought his portfolio into my focus. It just goes to show how fucking overdosed this brain of mine has been the last month or so, like a leper in the dark with his zipper down, penis out, spraying out the snow, saying NADA NOTHIN' ZILCHAMUNDO, devoid of energy and thought... A juggernaut with bugger all to say, a buffer zone around the puncture hole that plundered out my soul. Fuck feeling that way kidda! We're bouncing back like Mammary Mountain, and clearing out the plaque acid, sick of feeling so damn placid with hands shackled. Shoulder pulling like a nagging toothache or a farm buyer. The pain gone, another sip of de Kuyper to make this vision clear but ephemera. Reminiscent and nostalgic like when my old man died of emphysema. Touch of psychill to reduce fear and intensify the strange thoughts that appear. It only serves to cheer us up, laying down these emotions no matter how odd or queer. Oh dear. Nietz about to perv on you like Timothy Leary. But there's no need to fear me (in theory). No need to get teary-eyed or left with regrets like you took the wrong side.

Its fun to get lead astray like Fred Astaire and so drunk you're afraid to fall down the staircase incase your legs break and you fall flat on your face. Led by the hand to that zepper called Lynn. Or Erich enriching the life of uranium by giving it a bouquet of geraniums. Maniac, talking to himself, but at least Himself is a real person, always listening, always on hand for fresh patients at his psychiatric unit... Dum da Dum daa Dum! You're goin' down son! Going down more often than the PSN notwork... I mean network. Who cares? Spend more time with your family... On second thoughts. Boxing Day is all about punching your loved ones, and if you don't have any loved ones, place your fists into that Hole in the Wall and wait for the Timely Response. The sweet and sinister music, the cackles of laffter, like when William Shat in his pants... then sat down Nekkid with Nikki and read his own Horoscope, which was horrifying in itself... Capricorn - 'Today you will discover that horoscopes are total bullshit.' Which brought on an early-onset heart attack, that was temporarily delayed, like London train services... It snowed yesterday in the Black of Burn, that's snow joke, like Joe Snork who needed nine stitches after sliding on the ice. True Story. Except for all the false bits, which have knocked my bloom filter out of kilter, and now I've got to kill ya! Using only the finest weaponry known to man or woman kind or unkind... Any kind of people really, we're not fussy so why get into a hissy fit.. Its stupid isn't it? Like eating Shortbread that only cost a quid, so you know it will taste like Nice biscuits... There is nothing nice about those biscuits, if they were, why would they need to advertise that fact? Too much advertising in the world. WE SEE YOU ARE USING AD BLOCKER! COULD YOU KINDLY DISABLE IT AS WE RELY ON ADVERTISEMENTS TO KEEP US ALIVE!! Blah Blah Blah. Really? Advertisements are supplying you with oxygen? And if they don't, is that classed as OxyGenocide? Do what you will, you can't knock Niet out of his gentle stride. Once the pencil glides, out comes the mental side of bullside piped, a torrential ride... A stranglehold, or was it just strangling old people with old cords and cables? Relax man, calm yourself! We're not baying for anyone's blood, we're a model citizen, literally made out of oven-baked clay, with nothing at all to say. My lips are sealed [with high quality female sealant] and now you'll pay the price. Extravagant hooker rates which you fell for Hooker Line and Sinker. And you couldn't complain, not while your nose was inside her sphincter instead of your finger. It is my only intention to write a blog using only my fingernails while I finger random shit to say and pepper spray on these walls.. Rumours and hearsay.. Here you say?! Well of course! Where else would we post the latest and greatest gossip and world famous statements.. 99% bollocks 42% of the time. At least that shoulder ache has ceased to exist, unlike the Exorcist in you that likes to exercise your wrist. If only you could stop being distracted by attractive curvatures and naked ligaments, so you could figure out how to light the filament. But these dark nights riding the NG surfboard are irresistible, a comforting light in the dark, which cures every tight pain in your heart... Every ounce of ballache is worth the hassle until the Control Grid goes down [orally] and your brain gets frazzled [literally]... This brain got frazzled Eons ago when we visited Lego Land and witnessed Lego LAN networks, at that point this ego deflated, and we went through a period of self-hate and degradation, closed the blinds and endured years of deprivation. Socially, all alone an emotional prison.. But swimming on a voyage in an ocean of vision. Important decisions formulate with optimism. Words spew out a paroxysm. Anarchism, masochistic masturbating jism, frantic frisson. Arise and stiffen, white emissions. Appetite has risen. Time to write with rhythm as you might be given erudite status. Time to break rank and kick up a stink like shank steak that's gone manky. Become a film critic like Mr. Cranky and take a shit all over Mr. Hankey the christmas poo. All because Santa didn't bring me a sandwich, but Satan took the time to bring me a stew. Classic beef dumplings with large carrots and a watery sauce. The only source of sustenance. It was horrible, more disgusting than the Two and a Half Men theme tune.

So where do we go from here? Down the dark streets we walk, the beginning of Requiem For A Dream begins to play through these headphones. The Momentum had started, a sign of things to cum, the inevitable Culmination of a lifetime's work. The year that we had been waiting a long time for - MMXV. AVOID THE DOG TURD! It had taken a very long time to get back to that place, the place where it all started, where the drama all escalated, where the pain originated and the fury formed through humour. A thousand aches and traumas to shake off, disappointment, despair, desolation, time to raise your game, change pace, elevation, time for the transformation, time to get back to the Times of Olde, soldier. Shake off that fucking ring rust, its time to don those boxing gloves again and step into the ring. DING DING! Round 12, bleeding and bloodied, but its funny using your pain as an enigma that has to be studied, understood fully before you can mount a recovery. Now its time to fucking get back on the money. Time to muddy the waters, time to shoot the dummy rounds, time to bring back the fun to Newgrounds. Until you drown in a plethora of temperamental sentiment. The return is imminent, you're in your element man, bringing more freakish shit than the Elephant Man but with a touch of eloquence to quench the thirsts of the parched. As we all know THIS IS SPARTA! Sparta is a parta all of us as we all take parting shots and become martyrs drinking Martini.


Intensity Riff #1 Experimental Song
TOS - Entering the Magnum Cinematic Song
The Bright Side of Light Ambient Song
Emerging Ambient Song

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