I come from a family miscegenated proto-apes who mysteriously wound up with bank accounts and driver's licenses.
Which turned them on more? Sometimes you get a runner's high from lynchings that contains 30% more euphoria than a mere brain-sloshing with some turpentine-enhanced grog containing a rhino beetle.
It spooks the crap out of me when that happens. Its more common on the left, which seems odd. The right is where I have hung the headphones more over the years. Anyway, the day may come when my range is so bad, all I can hear is erzatsz death metal. At this point, I will crank it way up at 3 a.m. and commit suicide-by-neighbors when they storm over to blow my head off.
I stand by my beer motto: Its what you get from milking male panthers. OLD MJOLNIR: THE BEER THAT MADE VALHALLA CROWDED.
You are a lying, dried-white dog jake on a wedding cake.
You've tried them all but lesbianism and bunjee-jumping into 120 foot ravines wth a 122-foot-long rope. We'll have to create you one.
Build a killer robot. I really enjoyed mine until the Army blew it up. (Don't worry, I filed off the VIN.) We are too old & f'd up stupid to do gene-splicing, so ixnay on the ahn-ee-mul usbandry-hay.
Become a gay pros junkie, write a famous book about it and don't forget your old pals while the money is still good. Failing that, try my fallback standard: paragoric and Nyquil. Try them in various amounts mixed with stuff like Vicodin and embarrass the kids on a whole new frontier.
HellPope Huey Master Underachiever of the Defrocked Illuminati Brotherhood of Crapaloosa, Arkansas
Our motto: "We know too much to be allowed to live, but they are too lazy and revolted to actually kill us"
Hot dawg & paragoric cookout at 'leven, you come