A collection of rhyming prosaic insights insightful enough to roughly cover a simple idea of the Internet; how it is considered in regards to humour and good natured trends managing the mores and habits of countless users and affectionate fans.

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How I Right.

If I were right, the night that passed before I ate that great helping of hamburger helper without the hamburger is larger than the day when my parents may or may not have given their approval towards weening hours words or dirges meant for a respective lot coddling each sodden ploy to get more play at the station. I mean, they are their grandchildren, mistaken as the aging coots could seem. Making them sleep, these young men or women, the life blood of linen sheets, pillows and hours that keep all those little heads at the computer screen is easier once teases like video killing the radio star, far reaches into one part music, two parts shenanigans and three parts chat all convert that technological convert into a precept of marketing madness. But not really. . . I would imagine it is confusing raising a child, considering all the wild diversion a coercive dip into fun and how it turns Monday school into a droll afterthought on Sunday's dossier. And I just bought a wireless guitar controller for my wireless, infrared, blue tooth stroller. The wife would be pi without the repeating decimal this time, I think. .


Great Balls of Meat

Sometimes it is easier to think that drinks and fun, more of lunch or hunches that smother the recovery you or me might find rewinding the pain inherent in each destiny we may or may not require as reality in a way resembles the saying, luck be a lady tonight. Gambling can be a rambling willful testimony to why two or more people can keep their will and checkbooks out of the prying eyes of those who wonder why looking at a winning hand can give a man trouble standing. I love to lose money. Don't get me wrong, the long haul is great for funny stories and lost wages make four major issues just generally disappear. One, that house you might have always wanted to keep. Two, the neat car, drives and has heat. Three, your girl or guy might just feel out of sorts with the sort of magical disintegration that online sites find lucrative. Four, more people might toss you a quarter if you mention the site in question while spanging on the street. So, keep those cards hidden, airbrush the pittance of a digital certificate meant to mend the feelings of disaster last nights' excitement might have brought and knock on wood. .


Distrust the Trust.

I need a new diversion. Stories sometimes come close to describing light from a thinly disguised wise saying. Make an assumption and you and I can fund a theme park with all the shots in the dark about yesterday and how arks should have a holiday complete with currency in digital form.
Casinos take more than cash last time I checked.
Try working with a bank sinking with or without the giraffes, passing off transactions as nothing muttering to the keys, 'How do I get to my money, again?'
The best laid plans, my friend, the best laid plans.
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