Wife-in-a-bag Ewok-lookin' motherfuckers.
Not just a director of films,
not simply related to a sales-rep for this site . . .
Before John Sayles was an Oscar-nominated screenwriter and celebrated independent filmmaker, he was a National Book Award-nominated writer of fiction. Now John Sayles has written his first short story collection in twenty-five years. The keynote story -- "Dillinger in Hollywood" -- is populated by leftovers from the Golden Age of Hollywood who live in a nursing home catering for "below-the-line" talent -- dancers, stunt doubles, horse wranglers, stand-ins, studio drivers -- who now wait for death and dementia, playing cards, breaking hips, busting ribs, and telling tall tales of days gone by. During one hot summer, Casey, a long-term resident, confesses that he used to be John Dillinger in the flesh . . .
We're here for all all your tablet-enriched talking toque
and TRT therapy needs.
Now fer fucksake how many times do I have to say this
and get the mood right . . .
MORE cornball, er, COWBELL!
The whole concept of larger brains being an "advantage" in the human mammal is a joke.
ReplyDeleteAfter decades of observing city-birds and city-insects I have discovered that
they're all laughing out their asses at us.
Have a laugh, it won't hurt your current self-perceived social status.
Well harumpah and etc.
ReplyDeleteAh, perhaps if we all do everything backwards for a week things will "improve" in some way!
My morning bathroom-constitutional just got interesting.
Personally, I'm rather concerned about the effect this will have on the lovemaking acts.
ReplyDeleteBut hey, it's only a week.
I just consulted the sacred tablets in my flame-emblazoned toque and it turns out we've been doing everything backwards all along, so no worries.
ReplyDeleteWhere can I get such a hat and what's the discount code.
ReplyDelete"Soul Whore 69" should still be working if you order directly from this site.
ReplyDeleteThanks! Life is boring and all is ash-in-the-mouth
ReplyDeleteso that tablet-enriched talking toque should help enormously.
Glad I could be of help on your journey, fellow fitness enthusiast. I suggest looking into our TRT-patch, flame-encrusted "old school" toque. We're getting good reports from those beyond the grave on all forms of our test-boost products. Hey, you're gonna die anyhow so why not be an asshole NOW.
ReplyDeleteTry our Type-A enhancement products and remember Code Soul Whore 69.
I can't in good faith get to work on this until I've watched all movies and TV shows featuring Clifton James.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.imdb.com/name/nm0416378/
Stop reading this crap and go fuck yourself.
Will do. No. Wait . . . it's my site.
DeleteI'll go fuck myself, but only after completing a 5,000-word comparative essay on the two versions of "The Longest Yard" and how they relate to the changing methods used in lifting for strength over the last 100 years and how surprisingly similar and equally effective they are.
Please don't neglect the stache (or lack of) aspects of Bury Reynolds vs Adam Sandler.
DeleteComedic temperaments of each era notwithstanding, both schools,
both lifting and filmic schools have their merits and errors.
On the one hand (or second hoof in mouth) the first version had its merits; however,
it lacked Bob Sapp.
Good luck with that essay!
Now then,
to see without human eyes, somehow
beyond our lies, la-dee-dah and oh-oh
as though we never were
yet still are
alive
to it all.
At most, I recommend three non-consecutive days of attempting to live as if you were already dead, no matter your soul's genetic capacity. The stress of perceiving all things this way while still breathing is quite the deal and can often lead to "depression" over time without deloading. Make sure to include plenty of nutritious meat, fruit, wheat products, protein heavy bowel cloggers and sane-headed levels of fiber in your diet when on this perceptual program
DeleteIs that a new way to spell the name Burt? Bury Reynolds. Kinda like Barry but not quite, very modern.
DeleteI sneezed at the T.
DeleteHey, that may explain a lot of postmodern poetry. No matter, it's all in fun and everything else isn't.
Delete