Too Much Protein, Not Enough SUGAH!

Die.....die......die......why......lie naked on the floor
And let the messiah go through our souls,
Lie naked on the floor and let the messiah
Go all through our souls, die, like a motherfucker,
Die, like a motherfucker, die, like a motherfucker,
Why, like a motherfucker!!!,
I WANT TO ... FUCK ... MY ... Way to the garden!,
Cause ... everyone... NEEDS ... a ... Mother, FUCKER!
---

Every now and then, your mind decides to take a little step back and observe with a clear, calm, discerning perspective what exactly it's absorbing at the moment.

---
I sit.
In my desolate room.
No lights.
No music.
JUST ANGER!
i've killed everyone.
i'm away forever.
BUT I'M FEELING BETTER!
HOW DO I FEEL?! WHAT DO I SAY?!
FUCK YOU, IT ALL GOES AWAY!
---

And, it has to wonder: "Am I eating a nutritious breakfast?"

"Oops, Our Bad," or, More Hackneyed Homegrown Photoshopping

Who wants to bet that W wants to invade the sea off the coast of East Africa where the tropical waves that become hurricanes originate?

The governor of Louisiana and the mayor of New Orleans, even though they're Democrats, might go for that right about now.

Either you're with us, or you're with the hurricanes ...

They And We

They are out there, and they are what they are.

They are they.

Therefore, we are not they. We are we.

We are we until we want to be they.

We become they until we eat each other and succumb to the will of they, who, it turns out, were once we.

We hate they because we hate we. We are they and they are ... us.

Us and them.

We must defeat they and they defeat we. So we are us. They are them.

We who are us want them to become ... this.

And this isn't good.



Or this.



---
*for my bro deebo*

56 Cents

Whoever this was, they must have been pissed:





"Holy! ... Newpapers are saying gas stations might have to shut down because the pipeline from Louisiana that provides most of the gas to the Southeast is out of order?

Screw it. Gasoline $3.12 a gallon and the gas station doesn't even have any 3's for the first digit?



I'll pay it."

Click. Beep, beep, beep.

"Yeaaaah, baby. Flow. Just look at the gallons and not the dollars ..."

... .007 ... .087 ...

"... I'll pass by those ravenous, petroleum-deprived SUVs stalled beside the highway and drink in the smug justice of it all" ...

... .180 ...

... "Oh, the sweet science of panic-buying" ...

... .185 ...

... "Suckas!" ...

... .187 ...

... click.

"56 cents. Damn."