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12/24/25   
commune fever: die from it!

Ray Manatino's Reworked Classics

by Ray Manatino
bio/email
April 14, 2003
Whose woods are these,
I think I know.
I think they belong
To that guy named Joe
Who lives down the street
From Peggy and Ray
And set his own pants
On fire one day.
He was sniffing lighter fluid
In the dark
When he lit a match
And his pants caught a spark
That scorched his scrotum
And sizzled his jizz;
That's who owns them.
These woods are his.
Monday's child is a creator of farce
Tuesday's child has a stick up its arse
Wednesday's child is hooked on blow
Thursday's child always has to go
Friday's child is unforgiving
Saturday's child has to pimp for a living
But the child that's born on the Sabbath day
Is really and truly and flamboyantly gay
Baa baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
What the fuck do you think
I'm wearing here?
Does this look like polyester
To you?
Shall I compare thee to
a summer's day?
Okay.
A summer's day is warm
and breezy.
You're 98.6, and you've
been known to pass a lot of wind.
A summer's day
is damp and humid.
You sweat like
Niagara Falls.
A summer's day
is soft and gentle, and you're
very cushy around the middle.
Also, you never yell
when someone takes all
your money.
Finally, a summer's day
is the perfect time for
a trip to the beach.
When I think of you,
I want to
drown myself.
I guess you're really
not much like a summer's day,
are you?


Quote of the Day
“How many roads must a man walk down before someone will give him a fucking ride? What, do I look like a serial killer or something? Blow me in the wind, buddy.”

-Zimm Bobberman
Fortune 500 Cookie
Here comes another lecture on the same old tax-and-spend bullshit, courtesy your butler. Quit picking at it and maybe it wouldn't get infected. Who beefed? Details inside. Better save that big comeback tour until after you've had at least one hit song.


Try again later.
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