A few months ago, I promised to address the 11:11 Angels site on November 11. Unfortunately, I lost track of time and let that date go by unrecognized. If some miraculous event had occurred, and I'd passed up my opportunity to salute the 11:11 prophets in order to make fun of some guy making shitty balloon art in Boone, Iowa, boy, would my face have been red! As it happened, November 11 came and went without mystical fanfare. But, not only is today Friday the 13th, but also a movie about the world's end premieres in theaters. Coincidence... or deadly coincidence?!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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