for the benefit of mr. kite...

...there will be a show tonight on trampoline...

i'm the blur in the photgraph, the splotch on the canvas that turns into a face the more you stare at it.

i fake it so real i am beyond fake.

my style's like goiing bananas...like losing your language

my style's like listening to a copy of a copy of a bootleg CD. the warble has a life of its own. it slices through the air like a light saber--all smoke and mirrors and special effects. it's the sound of things falling apart--of digital entities losing their shape like elastic panties...

ineffable america

i'm battering the hatches and eating doritos for breakfast, waiting for my negative behavioral training to take hold.

(well, boys and girls, i can see bobby and jamie and stacey and keith and do you know want to know something extra special? each one of them wiped the floor with big media's pock-marked, spider vein laced ASS today...)

TRUE dogs do this shit even without a paycheck


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