Some Stupid Ass Shit About Balancing Rocks, submitted by Willis. This gang of rat molesters made a Inter-web computer screen about balancing rocks. Don't you shitsmugglers have something better to waste your pathetic lives on? Who cares about rocks? Who cares about balancing shit? I'll tell you: NOBODY. And that's the same amount of people who want to read your anally-abusive trash dump of a Inter-web thing.
I collect interesting and beautiful rocks and balance them in a variety of locations. I particularly like to place them around water. With the rain, colour and texture springs to life.
If I ever see some of your stupid balancing rocks I'm going to knock them over and take them and put them on the roof of your car, over and over and over again until I've put them on your car so many times that your car won't start anymore. But knowing how you rock art fairy sissies are, you probably ride a bike to your rock balancing classes. Oh well, I'll take your goddamn bike and sell it and use the money to buy a new bumper for my car since the last one fell off after I shoved it against the head of some Mongolian crackhead crossing the street. It was his fault though, the shitheads in this town don't got any reason to cross the street anyway. I mean, there's enough shit on both sides of the street, so you don't have an excuse to cross it. Goddamn Japs.
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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