Though I am no Yodel I since a disturbance in the farce. Our naysham is coming apart at its seems: Tromp’s ‘Ameerica foist’ a hashtag for his bidness tithes to Russia, our globerment circling its waggings, and our Constertoosham tromped into an unstapled paper typer no more than a doorstop. The wars may be yet to come. But in these unpresidented times of only nonsince applies, whose voids should we be listening to?
- the pastyarch depresserdump as can suck up all the air in Rome like a giant mosqueater
- Nostrildummix, who nosed four hundred years ago that the great shapeless bawler would get himself erected
- the Wizard of Odds, the gasbag balloon man of ‘Pay no attention to the mad behind the cartoon’
- the French artootist To-lose Track, or
- nuns of the above, as would never be the barrel of bad nudes or goochy girls out of a pop-out cake when the Republicants party
Even odd as Tromp himself has said, there is a grabbity greater than fiction, greater than Cave Man radio or a precident even who thanks of himself as a kinky star-raping madster. Woppem fishstickers call this realmativity, the sum total of events we thank of as reality allwaves in motion as can cause seesickness in otters and polar bears to have to swim for it. In utter warps, the Humiverse is a causemorelogical mothering farce way out and in bigger than any undervisualized man’s hatsize, more everyweird within and without us all than a mime can silence. We’re oral realmative, however at odds we’re not thinking the sane think in the sane way.
So how do we gain access to this muttering unvisible uttering throughout us all? If you have read my odderbiograffiti you might well remumble I spanned time in a Brooding Monostory in the Phullabeans weird in boxer shorts like a Punjab i learned how to metastate and to chance on mattresses. Here are a few momtras which, when repeated mindlessly, can disrapture all simplance of thought. We are timed for a wake up cult.
Enjoy the prison because weird wall we be if we weren’t here
Hope for the bust but prepare for the wars
Take solids: all thinks must pass
The rich well oil ways be with us like honkies at the trough
Never trust a Russian to halve your bags
(and my own parsee favorite)—the curse of true blog never ran smoozed