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NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION
Figuring out the next stage, on stage, dabbling, babbling like Marcus Babbel when he contracted Guillain-Barré syndrome. But I thought he was barred from using the guillotine? Heck, these silly teenagers who take ages to tee off at the Golf or Volkswagen range. So we have to send ten million Volts coursing through their veins. Well we don't, I do, you can just stand by and watch, be a spectator, or a gaper while Nietz drinks Gatorade and has the energy to lift a thousand crates of Red Bullshit. The last time I drank Red Bull it made me feel breathless. I wanted to feel breathmore. That girl with the breasts, the whore who mines for minerals like Rita. I'd rather play the piano and drink Keora mixed with Kronenbourg beer, which tastes a little queer at first, but you shouldn't diss an alcohol's sexuality. You should let everyone wander and be free instead of caging the budgerigars who smoke fat cigars and cough up lungs smothered in cancerous fungus. Cancer is not fun Gus, believe me, I've watched people pass away, but maybe that's what we all do, piss away our futures, and neutralise the ambition, live out of the sorrow from a bottle. Regret Regret Regret, I could have been something.. couldn't we all?
"Not all of us George!" Who the hell is George? And why is he having a sex Georgy? Every second spent sat in this slump will turn me into a fat lump until I have to blow my own trumpet. Then cum on the new carpet, just for something to do.. But humping the floor is not the way forward. I'd rather take ten paces back and start from scratch than get scratched to pieces by fierce competition. I'd rather sign a petition to outlawe the Seven Deadly Sins. Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Sloth...... and I can't be arsed naming the rest. All I seem to do is rest, sleep for eons, too lazy to visit the toilet so pee on the neon sheets. The sheet music that is, now the Composer doesn't know his notes, oh shit, now he's screwed like nude women. New Wave Women give us a wave will you, don't be a slave to the rhythm Ryanne McW.... Don't fall down the same holes as Wily Ectstasy Coyote and end up fat and bloated and deported to a remote desert island for forty years.
Survivalry is paramount as the people on the reality show Survivor will testify. Where the fuck has my Fossil Fuel gone? Where the hell has Steve Fossett gone? He could be a fossil, or drinking FOS lager with seven angry Behemoths all called Cyril Jackson. Changing your name by deed might be the answer, rather than smoking weed and being bled dry by drugdealornodealers. I reckon fate threw me a shit hand when it was dealing out the cards. If you reach this point, you'll probably just say TL:DR... But I know, I know its too late to be a doctor and have sex with Kizzy Proctor who was someone from one of my old schools. Man, imagine being called Kizzy Proctor... Imagine being Cold! Lucky this sleeping bag is like being cocooned by the Sahara Desert. Warm as toast. I'm roasting, sweating like a novice catwalk model. Its time to rev this blog and move it into the Full Throttle or just get throttled by all the people it disses. Sorry people, I blow love and kisses, no offence intended, but I have a tendency to be dependent of offending, friends, strangers, myself... That stupid receeding hairline cunt, why the fuck is he making me say this!?!?!? "Coz I'm inside you Nietzlawe, you'll never shake me off... I'm not ring rust you know!" Conscience likes to play mind games like Brain Doctor and Sudoku puzzles, which leaves me puzzled at how his life is led by puzzles... He may as well be muzzled, chained, hooded, collared and leashed [discreetly hides erection]... Its impossible to discreetly hide this erection, its filtering through man, shaft skin, VEIN ALERT! *Spoilers ahead* There are no spoilers to be had unless I dip my hands in your soup, that would certainly spoil your meal and make you not feel like eating it, or slurping it up, then I'll just burp in your cup of iced tea. That will really fuck you up like getting battered down an Alleyway by a gang who think that ballet dancing is gay.
Alleygay. Allez les Bleus! My whole life has just been a blur - Song 2. It would be wrong of you to recommend that I knead a doctor like a ball of dough that gets rolled up like a newspaper to swot a nerdy fly that just wont die its hair grey... Or read the Novel Fifty Shades of Hades. I'd rather contract rabies and eat the pig Babe and a swarm of bees. I'd rather douse my hiking boots in Nikwax, or sniff cracks like vaginal openings. Let's live the high life on a cloud storage. Fuck trying to find Red October, we need to start the Hunt to Find Stickman91, the other 90 stickmen were found safe and sound, but the 91st Stickman has been presumed missing since the turn of the year and has not pressed his return key... But I reckon he still voyeuristically pervs on Newgrounds through a microscope that magnifies everything to his beady eye... He will return, or visit Besteyecandy.com and check out pictures of Renee Olstead, oil his lead in a warm bed instead of posting on NewGroundia. Jack has to come back, or he'll never get his cum back from the Sperm Bank, he'll have to earn back every drip.. he'll slip on the way in. In reception, but he will get a good reception. You can't keep tearing down the WANTED posters forever Jack, you have to return, you are chained to this place, we all are... Eric, Jack, Kevan, Sinitech, Bennude10, MarkySpark, [and the rest]. I'd hate to be the rest, its like being an extra or something, but believe me, you are just as involved as anyone else on the hit list... Did I say hit list, I meant shit list... Err! Did I say shit list.. I mean't Lip Disc, like those that people put in their mouths and get into the Guiness Book of Records.. I'd like to get into the Record Book for writing the longest piece you ever did feast yo' eedy' beady' eyes upon.
26,000 of these little bastards left.. Let's talk about Barry Tardis, but on second thoughts he's hardlis worth talking about... I'd rather watch Midnight Hot and squirt loads all over QWERTY keyboards, all because he's bored... Great now he's talking in the third person again, I mean me, the meandering neanderthal who slanders everyone and everything from cancer to Colonel Sanders. What has Sanders ever done? Has he ever won a Booker Prize award? Has he ever won a Telling Lies award? Neither. I'd rather win a ward to wade off evil spirits like Vodka and Gin. Vodka is horrible, its like reaching into the kitchen cupboard, pulling out a bottle of bleach, carpet cleaner, air freshener, rubbing alcohol and coca cola then pouring it all into a glass and going "Mmm, now that's some fine darn tootin' Smirnoff!" You can Fuckoff if you think that's Smirnoff. Drinking paint stripper is a turn off, but watching a stripper is a turn on, unless she's just peeling at the wallpaper, then its a turn off... unless she's doing it naked, in which case its a turn on. I'm glad we got that sorted, now we both know where we stand. Stranded on the red square Strand.
Strand from Monopoly you fool. Damn Nietz, you fooled me, you're so cool like refrigerated food. I'm not in the mood to get into a feud with a German fraulein with big black boots and a leather whip. "Auf die Knie!" [Discreetly hides erection]... I give up trying to hide erections, its like women trying to hide C Sections from the midwife. An impossible task like riding the Mammoth Tusk positioned between your legs. The Mammoth Tusk is a fucking metaphor, you might need more amphetamines before you understand the logic... In order to read these blogs, you need the following, Time On Your Hands, A Fine Tooth Comb, A Masters Degree in Deciphering Incoherent Rabble, A Cryptographer In Cracking Not Only Double Meanings, but also Triple and Quadruple meanings... The other qualification required is that you need to be the Owner of My Brain. In other words you need to become Me in order to understand Me. If you achieve that, it'll all begin to slowly make sense, like Ad Revenue on Newgrounds. Make Cents, see? Geddit! In order to understand the logic, you have to throw logic out of the window of a five storey building and laugh as it hits someone on the head and knocks them unconscious and they spend 17,000 hours in a Coma. Listening to the song The Coma, while drinking Kromanbourg beer. Or as the Aussies say, "Beeyahhh'"
Don't get it twisted, I fucking love the Aussies and hope to live there someday... Become an immigrant and apply for an Immy Grant under the psuedonym Jimmy. Or I could just remain in Blackburn for the remainder of my days, wallowing in the pollution, cigarette smoke and acrid rain, waiting to die a premature death due to the fact that this town has a high mortality rate.
But also a high lack of morality too. Its a lose-lose combination.
*Clutches heart.* "fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!!"
P.S. If you think that this was TL and you DR it, then I hope you get tied to a chair and forced to read the Bible one day. That'll teach ya a lesson.
The lesson being that religion is all A grand deception! Quick somebody tell someone! Everyone tell nobody! Can you keep a secret? Nobody can, can you see Crete through a telescope? I don't want to secrete through a telescope, it's filthy and could blind someone. You wouldn't like to be blind or signed to a band whose music you didn't like, now would you?