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February 23, 2012
The static arises in a form disallowing swift assimilation of rapid-fire dispensations of priorities most often dealt out of pockets so deep one has to have microwave radar to find a penny and leaves me with a feeling I've eaten too much baked rigatoni, which happens to be my favorite meal, but not when I'm being waterboarded; then, I prefer hostess ho-hos or sweaty limburger, just so old girlfriends who happen to catch of glimpse of ragged resentments can walk on by and be satisfied by their fucking whole grain muffins or vegan meatloaf till they're auto-knocked up.