I Have Very Bad Posture

Sometimes the earth spins backwards and the trees bear their fruit in undue season. Tonight is a flux capacitor of phlegmatic proportions and the lights are low on the outside. Cherry Flavored Antacid is dead as a doornail and the new Commie wears the garb of Al Quaeda. When will the moderates rule the earth and why can't I have a pair of Burberry Prorsum captoes to don with my gay apparel? Juxtapose the jugular of mainstream society and cast the money changers from the temple. The mad Saxon runs at the gun emplacement and leaves the children of Israel to dry in the sun like figs from a fir tree. The fruit of complacency kills the pain of the small hours and I'm tired, tired I tell you.

So, what does all this mean? What is wrong with me you ask? Nevermind. Just nevermind.

--LC 11/12/06