Thursday, July 28, 2005

Foto De Mulher Peladas

gerber ... Asphalt

A hot wind a little sweetish lug species. A green countryside contrasts sharply with the warm smells. One would have expected to fill the nose with a floral atmosphere of freshly cut grass but no, it's a heavy scent and disturbing. Headache ... Two meanings are given different information ... Evil campaign?
Yet just two kids playing in the meadow. They are accustomed. It's their campaign. They have lived there forever and even take a certain pleasure to deal with such effrontery persistent nausea this little landscape. It is a picturesque area where a river sings ... These worms do not remind them, and for good reason, they do not read and their parents prefer to leave them in ignorance the most perfect. Two small blocks of marble carver has come no start. Two diamonds that no suit has yet to burst. Humanity in its most perfect and absolute candor.
He's Jehan. It is Annis. They live a hundred yards away, with their parents, Labaquère. Parents, as each have been assigned to the paternal grandfather, who prefers to read his newspaper in the courtyard of the house, sheltered from the sun but not the stifling heat. It is not very old, in her sixties at most. And appreciates the quiet, the birds chirping, the slight tingling which rises when the wind tickles the trees of the garden. He reads the Gazette of the corner. A cabbage leaf in which we learn nothing. Because nothing happens anyway in this campaign.
Jehan is brown. Annis is blonde. Both children are amazingly beautiful, when you know their parents. Another quirk of genetics. Which is good.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

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the medium-haul: the usefulness of abuses


Economics.
Always the same old story. A text
song.
Two pebbles.
openings interstellar comet.
Quetsche Czech. Chouchen Chechen.
Sub repulsive aspect, a skin a little green.
swollen lips of a doll peeled.
Irradiation and cabbage soup.
arrogant comment a German duke.
Doge
A toga
Red
Who moves.

"Elizabeth," Oh my beautiful Elizabeth. Elasticity. Syphon and Quincampoix. "

When you will leave your quest, Dachshund?
fireman just beyond my delight. NTM, dance MI5.

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Corruption Lipschitz and analysis

It means nothing. You put three words one after the other and you laugh.
Two hours than I'm expecting a call. You think she'll call me the other? Shit. She tells it, 'I'm the best because I can bring 135 words per minute. Shut up. Get it? Take time to think and leave us a phrase that means anything.
No but. What it fills me, the small business world. Between honeyed hypocrites who suck their heads. The guys who do not care and come anyway "because he must eat." Soft heads, heads drives, hypocritical leaders, chiefs optimistic, deputy chiefs, heads-on that you never see but you know they exist because your supervisor thee once said "Machin, he said that. And when Machin said, is executed. " Gold machine in question is often not a visionary or a great leader. It's a poor bastard who the big plays because Dad had some money, because it sucked miles of penis, he cheated on his bitch to the poor trollop who buys fur coats that stinks.

Not to mention the poor connes assistants. Because of the poor connes among assistants, there: Between unable to make a decision that you must wait to be told to do anything "Send the mail, go to the bathroom, you can go, Yes, I'm fine," the fat bitch who believes be the strongest because it is the assistant chief and who is ugly as my ass, but ugly and stupid looking more and who speaks to you as the last sub-fuckers, you hold back because of hitting that it should already be taking it home, when she managed to be an asshole of a husband, because that should not be believed, but unmarried, you have, and beautiful ... Worse yet, people you talk about their fucking brats they have managed to have a moment of grace where the girl has taken a good swig and then squirt who then gave birth to a disgusting brat who, coincidentally has no default, can read at 2 years, is the best in class throughout his schooling but fails miserably on the day of the tray, but now government policy is to give everyone, even the feeble light. The only way not to have his tank today is not to go to the tests. And why do you think of any way that people have children? This is the one to kiss power annually when it can no longer look in the eyes and two is to be able to hit someone else her spouse when you feel you are at the edge of the court to conjugal violence. It is also, I forgot to feel that when we die, we leave behind us someone who will carry a little of our mediocrity. Yep! It must be my stupidity continues, right?

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Second post

I hate these fucking blogs.
What dirt can be read in there. The poor bastards who think they are the authors who tell us their lives are shit to believe it is interesting. What a bunch of big assholes. The Toulouse in particular. Those are the worst of all. With their emphasis moulders of sausages, black brush their hair shiny and dripping.

In style shit, I would like television. That emissions idiots who take people for poor nerds. In addition, you must pay a fee. what a surprise that people they have had enough. But brothel. You may not decree that, for 3 days per week, we cut the crap this invention?? Ca, it would be good for humanity. But no.

Anyway, he must face the facts: it is not in a country where the peasants their pigs fuck, where there are still people who go to Mass, where people watch television several hours a day, where we believe in the power of sport, and where we marveled at a Laure Manaudou and Amelie Mauresmo are the cockroaches when you see all the evil that they set themselves arrive at results as pathetic, that's not in a country where we glorify the wealthy, where labor is the only value, with family and kids, a country where people know the height of Mont Blanc (4807m, and Again, I'm sure it's wrong) and do not know where three African countries on a map, a country where a five-year presidency, we spent 3 years to wonder who the next candidate, a fucking country with consensus and submitted a press, a country of poor vain ... A shit fucking country, yes ...
Anyway, you have to do with.

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When genius is recognized only as an epiphenomenon

O Boggle ... soft mystical demon ... You who, in times when men were still living without asking questions and typing on mammoths cynically endangered, was able to tell other gods: "Let us pause and reflect."
Mirror unfathomable. A strange serenity. Stupid weak men who still believe in a God who is not what they believe. Silly sheep, always crying, afraid of what they can not conceive when they should watch with morbid curiosity and boundless ... Woodlice whiners. I hate this vile race who drools when she speaks, moans when she sings and revels in its mediocrity bland.
Yuck. I vomit in the face.

Alcohol. Divine liqueur. Sickens me. Alters my pathetic person and take me through the maze of your scrawny ether. That my saliva is your flavor forever. I swallowed your perfumes and dark in beds with mattresses suffering and bliss.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Copacabana ... Matthew Kassmoilcul ...
saperlipopette et jarnicoton. Cornegidouille.