Q. Why did John Lewis do it? I mean he didn't seem like the type to condone violent pedophiles torturing a child like your dad?
A. AIDS was the weapon of the gibbering and the juvenile. When Lewis saw the magnitude of the non-violence prize Midori was misrepresenting, his mouth dropped and he bayed like a banshee. The hotwire of deaf white suck got violently superwaved through the commencity. Of course, there are so many people on spaceship earth it seems an eerie colossus to go to war against love in college in the name of John Lennon, but Laurie Anderson, in making the carrot tape, was working with the attorney downstairs of the Gutendorf apartment, Calderone, or Cardin's place, when they necked Superman. It was sort of like Lewis one night folded his infinitely correct hands one night and said, suppose I were evil, what would I do and how I can make that performance art to negate the satans in queerdom bereaved. Nice life, whacko, straight from the book itself.
The Great Backstab had perks. Mandela and Havel went free in return for hush payments, primarily their Presidencies, and Penis Gabriel licked his chops at all the markets to be had promoting Obama. That's fair enough, they jibbering and snacked, them English.
Q, How could this strange, strange, eerie occult stupidity have possessed high command?
A. Allah has a peter's principle when it comes to bands like King Crimson, it's the story of Babel, the higher and mightier they clamber with their divvies, the more remote from decency their assessment of the spirit, but the ether is so thin up there they think it's revelation on high manifested as their petty syphilliticism. Hahahaha. An English. I'd like to get rich, but I'd avoid doing it in the name of God, thankee.
Q. What would Dr. King say?
A. He'd say, seeing what you are Obama I'd just as soon the United States just forget that I ever existed. Take me and Reagan and JFK and throw us all overboard and start from scratch with people who have some sense. Take fluxus and Ono's soundtrack and kiss the whole nightmare goodbyer with that horror liar Jesse Jackson, whose headstone's gumball machine. Small change got drowned by his own demogaugical sound. The pathos of muttering passed out at the wailing booth.
Q. Are you really voting for that creep Thimgunny?
A. Gotta learn to talk to talk mang, gonna git me in the Senate after swindlin' Willy and then we'll see what's what.
Q. So the race penis pretzell won out even with SNCC.
A. RIP. Little Miss Harps was so de-Knoxville.
chorus: And thus the penis angel Penis Fripp did slay for melancholy hankies who stood in his way. Avast ye clingers to the dream that the anti-Christ isn't real and Peppermint Patty's smuggled vaslasline. With gutternal Germanic chemical voice Sean Strub was vindicated for his ship to travel afar with the saintly slain to balance the ledger for the Spirit of Bitburg Day Belsen. Sandra Bitburg, USA, find her scripture by the way somewhere South of Lapham Hitler's Acadia for the love of Gail Burstyn embraced by the weird psychopaths of Sound Mental Health.
For he's a Jolly Good Tang! For he's a jolly good tang. For he's a jolly good tang that nobody can deny.