The Galgravolt, a fearsome beast created while (Name deleted) was had reverted to a maker after his splunders had been depleted and he was trapped in the 21st century, was a beast that when born believed it was an Otter. The galgravolt was a slave to preconceptions; which was its strength. As such, if it ever realized it was a Galgravolt, it would behave as people expected a galgravolt to act; it would act as the most fearsome animal ever created by the makers. naturally, it spent most of its time crushing clams on its belly in shallow water, the stereotypical otter’s behaviour. Sometimes they could be convinced that they were Matthieu Mconnaughoise, the french Matthew McConnaughey clone from 2854. He was exactly the same as the first Matthew, only he spoke french and ate yeast deposits he grew on his incarnate ethnicity. (in those days, a person’s ethnicity lived as a discreet organism, walking beside them in the body of a polar bear. And on that bear grew yeast all over itself to feed people. This was a result of the presupposition that ethnicity sustained a person, defining “where they came from”, if you can believe it, and a person became totally dependent on their ethnicity for survival. They were also dependent on Yamtalkers for survival, but we’ll deal with that later.) At this very moment, our friend from the hyper-future, Tyra Banks, was fleeing to the hospital to have his bullet wound treated. Would he make it before the Galgravolt devoured Toronto?
In order to make more L’Brondelle, money is needed. Money to travel, for resources, etc. Please help this program continue. If you want to know what you are being asked to fund, watch the show (in 2 parts) below. I implore your sense of justice. TV rarely puts anything on that is creative or interesting unless it can show some audience support, so they know its not a major risk. If you feel that tv doesn’t reflect your sense of humor, or put on shows that you would watch, but have been frustrated that you have no means of swaying the broadcasters, this is your chance. IF you feel that interesting artists are ignored, and want a way to help support something unique, please, this is your chance.
Meanwhile, back inside the dream inside the frown
The dream ended.
I awoke to find myself lying on the ground outside the hospital where I realized i had been enfrowned. In my gripping lobe I gripped a sleek iPhone 3Gs, the tweet-shank newly bloodied by my frantic attempt to share my meaningless thoughts. I didnt’ feel any different, though my gas bladders were semi deflated. perhaps relinquishing a part of your identity to the meaninglessness of conventional life wasn’t actually bad. perhaps.. yes perhaps smalltalk was even acceptable.
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YouTube Direct Style In soviet russia, we have three moons This video is interesting and shows some of the wonders of soviet technology. However, watch the ‘star lit sky’ during the final segment, when they are showing the audio cassette. Is it strange that in soviet russia, they have 3 moons?
Meanwhile, back in the city of Toronto, 2009…
Vast titanic breasts on an enormous nude chest have just emerged from the city centre, ripping up everything from Bloor and Sherborne to Queens Park Circle…
The man from the hyper-future, Tyra Banks, stands amazed at the chest unleashed by his powerful super-suit’s chestmaker. With him are the nerd he recently met, and soeone who looks remarkably simlar to (name deleted). But it can’t be him, can it? (name deleted) is sleeping, dreaming, even now inside the frown of the universe… then who is this man? What is his plan? And his span? Fan.
The dials and knobs on my suit dialed down and knobbed down to the minimum. I was again allowed to utilize my own bodily limbs to control my directions and motions. how pleasing it was to regain that lost control.
The night air swelled with the rush if heat of the heaving breasts on the now breathing chest, and with the cries and yelps of the hapless Torontonians who had, understandably, not predicted this occurance. Torontonians are notably terrible at predicting the emergence of body parts in the middle of their city, as their future history would bear out time and time again. Old Shafty-Cocks of 2140 really springs to mind.
The Visionary – a Large head with 5 faces for a total of 6 eyes. While dormant, the visionary has a smooth head of obsidian, no facial features, and exposed muscle fibres on its neck. When the priests insert their hands into the muscle fibers, nerve fibers invade the skin. The priest’s head loses all features, turning black. The Visionary’s faces appear, and its eyes open. The priest and the visionary are one, and he can now see in every direction for many miles.
Look forward to our comic. it won’t make sense probably.
This website has some interesting, TRUE knowledge about the future. it predicts my death, specifically.
I’m the guy who posts his own poems online. this one is about drawings of clothes that can eat wood.
Trumpuant old bratriarchs did aplutarp their friends,
when astrogothic misanlips were worply on the mend.
So Mantagorianius and Vilkar of the North,
extrafoluated, and on their horses sallied forth.
“Grelhere” he snaped his miterfork, grelhering all the while,
“I grelhere to utmost max, and yet perforce grelhere in style.”
The Bulwark of the North, Vilkar, was mightily impressed,
and on a wooden table top he scribed little vest,
a pair of slacks, and borlant straps to keep them all athwaite.
Maltruviantic periworts began to integrate
themselves into the dia-gram of gramo-dia-cloths,
the type defined by treaty as those victimized by moths,
the type that, when encountered carved upon a table top
must hastily erasured-be by table ‘rasing cops.
The force of table ‘rasers raced their tabular tontoons
toward the little sketch of vest and straps and pantaloons,
but Mantagorianius rose high his sabre’s spear!
And shouted in a voice both soft and low and high and clear,
“Dear sirs! Grelhere, grelhere at once, don’t rantipariate!
These scribbled scrabbles scrumbled ‘pon this table here of late
are little more than dendrophagographic vest-i-ments,
And gazing ‘pon them suddenly not 15 moments hence
you shall not see these clothes, defined by law as heinous things!
But wait and wait, vesperiate, ’till the moment-weasel sings!”
Waited they amongst the tables on the table trees,
A whistling, sitting deep in saddles, leaning at their ease,
until the weasel weaseled out to sing his weasel song.
Some moments had transpired, 15 full and aptly long.
Turning they their gazes down to oculate but good,
there somehow all the clothing drawn had eaten all the wood.
So Mantagorianius and Vilkar of the North
excused themselves from Hepstiburt and Amilcar the 4th,
those Erasing Cops who had this afternoon enforced
the dictates of the Lemon-Man their matriarch divorced.
You’ve heard the legends say that if you leave here, don’t look back,
keep facing to your destination down the trodden track,
don’t hearken to the snigglements of Periworts behind,
or turning round you’ll view a sight to nullify your mind!
Facing you a riddle whose solution no one knows…
why Maltruviantic Perwirorts are wearing little clothes
DUUUN DUUUUN DUUUUUUN!
After reading This articles about some state representative wanting to abolish federal “paper money” in favor of a state wide gold and silver coinage. His reasoning is that gold and silver have real value, they are something you can “hold in your hand” and “barter with”. This is in no way similar to “paper with ink on it” as he calls bank notes. Bank notes can’t be held in the hand, and certainly can’t be used to barter.