BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOOF! BOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW!BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW! WOOF!
WOOF, I SAY WOOF!
BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW!BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW!BOW-WOW! BOW-WOW-WOW!
Elvis has left the building.
Thank you very much.
Zebra, I’m a perfectly effective clone of a CIA operative, that’s how I know.
JCThunder, one of my clones bit Tom Robbins on the thumb, but I haven’t read anything about him, or his perfidious associates in the “School Lunch Program,” or “Zombie Factory” as we call it in the business. Interestingly enough, the “records” “claim” that there was no “archery event” at the “1972” Olympics. This I know to be false, for I know otherwise, and know what I know. It was a six-armed clone of Barry Goldwater’s evil twin, with gold medals in the 1, 10, and 75 kilometer dwarf toss, but was disqualified for using a atomically powered longbow.
EXACTLY, Bosda! How did you know that? I suppose, by your name, you’re attached to the Trilateral Commission’s XI Corps, which would mean you know a great deal, especially about what’s happening to all those hallucinogens they’ve been putting in my scrambled eggs.
That should read “until the ‘1972’ Olympics,” not “at the.” I blame NASA, and a defective wave-scrambler in my shorts.
::cautiously lines hat with another layer of tin foil::
So, what are your favorite medications? Do you take them voluntarily, or are they injected?
Personally, I would like to know the Phase-of-Moon-Dependent schedule for the next Alister Crowley tantric sex festival at Jimmy Page’s castle, but the invites haven’t gone out yet. Have you gotten the advance mailing or are you on the “B” list like the rest of us?
Ah… Ignoring me I see. You won’t get off that easily. I know what you’re up to. ~_^
Fishing will get you nowhere, Zenster, and my invite came in on the subether station in my teeth weeks ago. You should know that, your agency installed the receivers, you NASA dog! You shouldn’t be disappointed, though, we always end up playing “spot the FEMA assassin droid” all night and the tantric sex remains mainly undone. “Jimmy Page’s castle” is also code for vacant lot behind Arby’s.
Daikona, check your kaph-wave transmitter under the next full moon. Once you’ve made sure the zed and yod frequencies are in their third resonance alignment, you’ll see that I wrote a witty, devastating reply and posted it as a classified ad in the Dallas Morning News three days before you posted the first question. Checkmate!
Raving Lunatics are perfect for long journeys through space and are being sought after by Nasa’s secret affiliate. Is that something that appeals to you? The bi-cameral lunatic demonstrates an awesome self-sufficiency and will probably never be lonely even in deepest, darkest space. A fat lunatic with an imaginary girlfriend could probably travel to Proxima Centauri on a few tins of Slimfast and a box of Kleenex. Personally, I’d like a voice/friend with a high IQ as well - one who I could learn things from. Do you think that’s possible Raving Lunatic? Can hearing voices be a good thing?
Like Bosda said, why should I ask you anything when I can just talk to your dog instead?
G.Nome, I have made several long-term space trips to the planet Yuggoth, riding along with the flying Space Fungi to their dark yet wondrous world of horrific grandeur. So yes, I do really hate it when they leave the mushrooms off my pizza. I always tell the attendant to put on extra mushrooms, but the Postal Service agent always picks them off. Him, or Leonard, the fat janitor who’s always around the kitchens.
Oh, and Cornflakes? My dog’s words are for me alone, such is the horror they contain. I can’t let you listen to him, because the last time he talked to someone, he made them do the most awful things.
Yeah, that’s what he’s telling you for now…