Growing up with snowflake, one learned to drink their sap in the morning.
There was no time for globe-girdling as we chased the bears though the
jungle of oil refineries, then were eaten like pudding by Lyndon B.
Johnson. "Let's get away from the sea!" I remember thinking. Robin sails
home to tell the tale. "May this car bring you happiness," he begins.
"It's rotunda is all you expect Japan to be. The sky is our home. The
earth is our winding path. As the wheel spins, the pot forms clarified
butter." Robin always speaks of butter as a mother would. He's prone to
dream of beautiful maiden cats and lovely lands. He hates the sea. He
says snowflake is too heavy for most tree limbs to support. Once again,
he is right. Get a shovel.
You will find yourself at war with the sea. Try again later.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
Fortune 4
From mammoths to giant ground sloths, they buried caches of precious
materials-- radiocarbon, obsidian, jasper, Idaho and Anthony T. Bouldurian,
hundreds of miles from the Rosetta Stone.
Fortune 3
There she is, coincidentally, the prime-time "wrong with this picture"
barnstorming editor. Rich Galen. Disproportionate, particularly stark, India's timeless
tableaux.