Eat my ass, all of you. I’m the one who can say who is rad, and who is bad. And so I’ll say it now: I’m the rad one. You can try all you may, but no way can any of you be as rad as me. I’m the man, I can go all day. See? And I’m not all “Duh… Me go now! Me be dum dum”. No, I’m a hep cat, the top dog, a guy who can say it in 3’s, but not in the odd way you all do! Ha! Yes, if I do say so, I am a god.
But it’s not of old. So it’s not as fun.
“Of old” is the fun way? Why? I saw the OP, it did not ask for us to be “cro mag”.Now, if it’s all you can do, I can see why it’s not as fun to try to be as we are now, IRL, in the way you “rap in 3’s”. I kid! I kid! But I can be “of old” too, if you say it’s the fun way: So, let me say, ere I go, Lo! o’er yon is an ass (no, no, it’s not you… I’m not an ass hat) who has oft bid me “Nay”. But 'tis the ass of the ass who has all the say. So the ass of the ass, in its own poo poo way, was e’er so gay in the way it’d say “Yea”. I’m no fan of ass poo, so I’ll say to it “Hey!”, Ye ass is an ass, and it ate too much hay!
But, in a big way, we can not add God to bit we at now. The men here pre-now, who die and who not die, did so. We, now, can not do it. All men, in end, not ken us now and our gab, but all ken the men who did vie and did die. It is for us to say ‘We go and do til end the war men who die did to ½ way’. We do it so no man can own man, and so our gov be of all of us, by all of us, and for all of us, now and for all now.
[May be not OK to use ‘1/2’ and ‘ken’ but I can not do now not use it and it. If you can, do for me. ]
Wow! I’m in awe, man. In awe, I say.
he say ‘poo poo’ heh, heh, heh.
Boo tis won, by far.
To be or not to be?
If phonetics work,
Abl was I ere I saw Lba
It’s a rum try - you did err a bit, my pal.
The day Jim saw his Da die was the day the red dog ran off. One act was sad; Da got hit by a car, but it was due (Jim bet) to the ale Da had had at the bar. But the dog… it cut out in the fog and wet in an act Jim saw as odd. The cur let out a far off yip and a cry as it ran, as if the sob of a man of woe, and Jim was not to see it, wet of fur and ill of paw, ere Da was in his urn and Jim was now the man of the Inn, Da’s era at an end. The dog had no gut for a jar in the way of the Inn and ran off to let men do the job til all was by and by. It was the way of the red dog, Jim was to see, and not an erg did that dog use but for its own joy. On a sad day, he was not to be at the Inn, as if a wet eye was an ill hex for him. The dog was not for the ego of man, he was for his own.