And that’s why it pains me so to see these other bishops and princes of the church milling about at the Vatican during this time, pretending that they’re deep in prayer while in reality we know that the “conclave” is really just a great fuck fantasy, acting so holier-than-thou like Bishop Lombardo once did.
In all my four weeks of hardcore, intensive, extensive, rough-and-rowdy intramural frisbee, I’ve never seen a game like the one we put on last week. Now, yes, I know that this team isn’t exactly the 2012 San Francisco Giants, but goddammit that performance we put on could make an angel want to jump of a bridge.
For example, eyewitnesses to the events at the police station have corroborated his testimony that several police officers woulddid indeed pull their service weapons when, as Oxlong predicted, after he threatened to blow up the building.
The good and honest American people are no stranger to so-called “experts” talking down to them on TV about how to spend their money and why their grocery bills aren’t going down. “Oh, it’s because you’re spending too much on DraftKings, no it’s because America is getting screwed over by its trade partners”. Well, America, here are some thoughts on Trump’s new tariffs from the only economic expert you need, my cat Billibob (AKA: Billi, Hobo Kitty): “mrr mrrrr meeoorrr
Now I admit, I was a little off-put when I saw the large number of cats and dogs in the waiting room, but I figured he was just an animal lover, not that he was about to divorce my thing-1-and-thing-2 from the rest of my body with the same clinical precision of a Civil War amputation doctor.
Weinberg freshman Richard Lärgen has run out of his prescription of Lexapro, a common antidepressant, and was seen mumbling to himself in the mirror “no more Mr. Nice Guy” while attempting to brush his teeth.Â
Then, I started to remember another incident. The incident. You see, when I was 9 walked into the living room and saw my parents watching Fifty Shades of Grey on the TV. It was the ice cube scene. Right before what I now know is called some “hot fucking shit”.
Everybody’s seen somebody go on a power trip before. Police officers when they pull over people, that kid that was supposed to watch over the class while the teacher went out to go use the bathroom, Joseph Stalin, just to name a few. But never before has a power trip been as dangerous as this one, never before has one rush of authority to somebody’s head been as dangerous as this. For God’s sake, somebody put Ben down, he’s drunk
his little, wet, salamander-colored life-form, by his own existence, took from me my passion. My wife made me get rid of the scuba gear, you see; she didn’t want me to “get some awful fucking decompression sickness and have [my] guts pop out through [my] eye sockets” and leave her with our son, William, all alone. William, more like, Will-I-Ever-Be-Free-Again?
It’s so great, I actually can’t imagine what my life would be like without my beloved crack, I really can’t!