Bullshit takes me minutes, in fact seconds, but I am not too fast a typer, therefore the delay in the ways of the ergonometric flow of ideas from the origin of mankind in the center of the brain, to the finger tips is of little repercussion to the center of bio-reproduction in the rain forest.
Take for example this moment, I do not know the precise instant of your response, then I went to get some cereal, since the brain does require to be fed, now I return and I see the message on central station, so here I go turn on the boosters and as I type , the Bs begins to flow, slowly at first, but then as I write, the brain easily takes over and the speed is unmatchable to my arthritic fingers, and away we go ...... weeeehuuueee we are flying.
Just like a Formula One little dream machine, rev it up to about 10,300 RPM, watch the flag man (or the lights), watch the competitor in your mirrors and to the side, watch the oil pressure dial water and oil temp gauges, watch the flag guy, he is dropping it and let it go baby, clutch is dropped wheels are spinning, rubber is getting hot (it is a dry day and so we are using slicks), they grabbing, they are grabbing, I am sitting on pole position, and the dream machine is sliding gently as the rubber begins to grip, I am inching ahead of the second best time, and the guy behind me he blew it I can see it too much smoke out of those racing doughnuts, in fact he may block the rest of the field, looking good, looking good, it is going to be good bye Nicanor....
As the tyres (that is British for tires), grip, we are flying going through that gearbox as if it was hot knife through butter, smoothly and easy, we are in the straight away going through fifth gear and the second place man is already 500 feet away, who said Jimmy Clark had no match, we are approaching first corner, so it is a long and constantly increasing right hander that becomes an "s" we are going through the gears down to third, a slight four wheel drift as I come out of the lefthander, and we are drawing away from the bunch, coming up a lefthander after a quick straight away, quick glance to the dials everything is normal, revs up to limit at 11,000 rpm motor singing high pitch and sweet, not missing one stroke, approaching fast already in fourth gear and we are braking hard and into second as it is a hard and quick chicane left to right, then a short straight and then the right-hander hairpin, down to second and we shoot out of the pin like a bullet out of a pistol the next is a lefthander without even lifting the gas, we are flying once again, into third, the "s" are fast approaching and finesse is most important here, as if you skid and too much swinging side to side you lose speed, don't want that, as we leave the third "s", we are flying once again, into fourth and there will be a small chance for fifth gear then we have a gigantic cambered corner that will put me 180 degrees and then as we come out we are in front of the pits, and we are flying once again, after fourth into the corner, it is fifth just past the pits, this time we are not standing still, we are really flying for about 1,200 meters (that is 1.2 kilometers) of pure unadulterated straight line, so at the end of that little strip we are screaming at better than 200 and some miles per hour, that's only an estimate as all I have is the tachometer.......
Then we go on to the Biafra subject of your choice, which is then back to the monopoly of the monopolies of Uncle Bill, notwithstanding the injustice of the collective mentalities to which our culture of the television monster is in the middle of creating, as if it had robbed us of our individuality of the crackwit heads, that are bred under the influence of the buttheads and arses that the Hollywood and other nymphets are capable of not producing in an non-intelligent fashion of the republic of banana, of Central American fame.
Gerardo "Tuco" Ramirez better known as "El Ojete de Piedra Prieta"
or "Ojete" (for short), is one SOB bandido that rarely people get to know in matters of Attorney Generals bringing legal action against those destitute homeless souls of the City of the Angels, better known as the Valley of the Devil.
If however the EURO were to succeed in establishing a unified European Currency, that will create the miracle of the United States of Europe, one mighty market capable of competing with its counterpart of the Americas, then we would have the most strange situation where the "bedfellows extraordinaire" would become the US of A, with all the Panchitos countries of LA (that is Latin America)... Perhaps including Cuba of Uncle Fidel.... Now that would be a sight to behold, imagine Uncle Fidel going to the marriage passage with Lady Liberty, and Uncle Sam eagerly overlooking the shoulder of the fiery revolutionaire....
But no sweat man, because Los Cubanos de la Havana, would bribe all the politicians (as if it was hard to do), with a bunch of Habaneros (big fat cigars).
But then again that is nothing less than rubbish since Albert Einstein would re-incarnate as the next Sofia Loren, then imagine that we would have this nucleo-breasts, Mamma M¡a, sopapilla we would sign some Vivaldi Motets with our heart out, just like Campbell chicken [breast] soup, for the Italian soul....
Matter not as the terrible Gnomes of ZĀrich would come to the rescue with the ever faithful dog of the Matterhorn (or something to that effect), and would give the dying patient her dose of good old Swiss schnapps, pear liquor no less, and so as the dying skier with both legs torn apart from the crash against the tree at better than 110 kph, would say: (Remember being a transvestite [the dying one], she would change sex.....)
"I have no regrets, as I have lived a life of sin, sinning here and sinning there, never out of tune, as I was always accurate, hitting always bullseye, so I leave you all you mortals in this valley of tears, since no doubt I fear no evil, as I, my fellow sinners, I am the meanest son of a female dog of the valley....." And with that Federico, the mean bastard, died leaving behind hundreds, no thousands of would be widowers, with broken hearts, in million pieces, since the lust stamina and sexual prowess of Don Federico de Catalu¤a y Gonzaga, was truly "something to write home to".....
In other news, this just in.... A terrible earth quake of 9 degrees in the Richter scale seems to have completely flattened the city of lights (Paris), leaving no building standing, other than the Eiffel tower, this will now prove to be a boom for the French economy and the American tourist, as the millions of unemployed French lazy bastards living off the ever wasteful unemployment benefits of the welfare system of the La Republique... and it will also be a great benefit for the American tourist since all the French waiters and waitresses died in the quake, a new breed of more civil French service oriented vassal will be re-trained to deal with the ever foreign-language-challenged (retard) American tourist that in the past used to be harassed with no end or mercy by the ever evil and mean Pierre Lebastard, a prototype of French Waiter, always telling the butthead tourist, "Merde".
And so with no further introductions I will present to you, the new Monty Python Circusssssssssssssssssssssss..........
Nihil est--in vita priore ego imperator Romanus fui.
Z. |
