If it’s feasible, then it can be stored in the freezer. If it’s dirigible, then it can be mourned by a dirge. Too many dirges, however, might cause you to walk with a blimp. In the next room, Yokel Ono sits on a barstool and croons about life in the rural prefecture. In one of the songs, an ante-lope makes off with the poker kitty that otherwise belongs to the rubber baron. He, the rubber baron, derives great affluence from prophylactic sales, but his penile business practices draw wide condom-nation. So yeah, a different fellow wants to raise fruit trees in anonymity, and so this fellow adopts a nom de plum, or would that be a nom de prune? Sadly, he struggles at agriculture, and succumbs, mildly, to gardening of the arteries. His real name is Norman, he’s a standard fellow, and when war finally erupts, he settles on Norm de Guerre as the assumed name for his saboteur of duty. Eventually, his alias gets him on the A-List. When the Jerusalemite studies you, by the by, he got his Zion you, he got his Zion you. I hate it when the hit man, one Mr. Reaper Cussin’s, mouths off, over and over again. Finally, I have to confront the hit man, one Mr. Reaper Cussin’s. “Hey Bud,” I say, “Are you assassin’ me?”
Also see: List of Active Conspiracy Theories
