It's all Greek to me.
My Hungarian ancestors, if I have any, are probably rolling over in their graves right now.
A love song for the neo-Cons:
The minute you walked the joint (uh-u)
I could see you were a man of repression
A real small spender
Drinkin' Bulgarian wine
Wouldn' you like to know what's going on in Gore's mind?
So let me get right to the point
I can see you worship Bush every time he pees
Hey, small spender!
Vote again for Dick Cheney...
I don't think I have any Hungarian relatives, just friends and acquaintances.
YES! PANAMA HATS COME FROM ECUADOR
I got a small fan and an old motorcycle helmet tonight.
I just posted my rebuttal, and I'm sure that the pervert who wants a ménage-a-trois with the two lesbians will be sticking up for them right now... the saga continues.
I hope that it all turns out well for you, dròm. Keep us posted!
I am just on my way to bed; I have to be awake in 5 hours or so.
I knew a couple of self-proclaimed lesbians once, but they had horrible taste in theatre.
What's good for the goose is good for Fox news.
BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!
(excuse me)
Old man Johnson got his head in his hand
Making his way across state in a fiddlin' band
With hair all down in his eyes
And the microphone all covered with flies
When he gets done playing, goes back to his room
Climbs in the bed in his cowboy boots
And he picks up a magazine, turns on the TV
Lights a cigar as he's fallin asleep
I told you 'bout Europa and me
And how she haunted every memory
Went round the world just to forget that song
To sing a new one for a girl from Hong Kong
Your picture is still on my wall, on my wall
The colors are bright, bright as ever
Red is strong and blue is pure
Some things last a long time
Some things last a long time
It's funny, but it's true
And it's true, but it's not funny
Time comes and goes
All of the while, I still think about you
Some things last a long time
Your picture is still on my wall, on my wall
I think about you often, often
I won't forget all the things we did
Some things last a long time
Some things last a lifetime
Some things last a long time
Some things last a lifetime
If there is a limit to all things and a measure
And a last time and nothing more and forgetfulness,
Who will tell us to whom in this house
We without knowing it have said farewell?
-from "Limits" by Borges
I remember a time when I was running an Internet radio station. I was meant to be talking to that guy who did the Garry Shandling show-- surprisingly called 'Garry Shandling'-- but he had tonsilitis and cancelled. This, of course, left me heartbroken, as I had watched at least three episodes of that show at 4.30 am in the morning, on Paramount, and thus I felt qualified for nothing.
So, instead, we had to get a random guest. My helpers -- all volunteers, mostly undergrads who wanted to make their names-- got this guy in who was writing a book called 'Chicken.' Unimaginative, I thought, but he'll do.
It turned out that he was writing about his time as a seventeen-year-old gigolo. Damn. He started telling this rather twisted story to me, about how this woman forced him into her dead five year old's clothes, and then they did various... acts... while he said 'I love you mummy.' The woman found it thereputic, but puked up after. I was stuck talking to this guy for forty two minutes.
It was the most popular show we ever did.
Go figure about the state of England to-day.
It's a Hungarian word... meaning 'obsessive about ducks'