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Testimonials and Comments for James
Hey, remember Friendster? This is an excercise in nostalgia.
Ah, the summer of ought-three. Good times.
were the best days of my life.
often calls at the schools for the
bereaved children and kindly inquires
about the contents of the curriculum,
teaching aids, conditions of
experiment, sports equipment and
scholarly attainments of the
pupils.
In the bedroom he asks if the children
feel too hot and if there are any who
may drop from the bed; in the dining
hall he troubles himself to know what
food they prefer. Really he is eager to
provide better conditions for their
happy and plentiful life.
sour sort of aroma. It reminds me of
socks that you were wearing when you
were drunk and stepped in a puddle,
and then you threw them in a corner and
forgot them there for about a week or
so, and then you're wandering around all
like "fuck, what the fuck IS that smell??
Where is it coming from?", and then you
find... THE SOCKS...... And you're
like "ohhhh.... he he... I remember that
night. The public genitals thing."
Fuck you, you know what I mean.
Anyhow, Zen Buddhism, we're all
connected, blah blah blah, go fuck
yourself, you're so ugly that you're not
going to get it anywhere else. Have
some whiskey.
These are the things I think about when I
hear the name "James".
navel, when I heard "No, no, man, you've
got it all fucked up. Do it like THIS", and
I stopped meditating, and looked up,
thinking about kicking some ass, y'hear,
but there he was... James. He wasn't
contemplating his navel, but, whatever it
was he was doing, it, like, made him
look SO cool, and I remembering
thinking "Wow. If only I could be like
THAT guy".
So we went out on the town, kicking
cats and bums, and I realized that all
that hippy shit I'd been into was WAY
wack, yo, and what it was all about was
simply titties and beer. I owe all of this
to James. And my left kidney, but that's
a different story...
So now I spend my days getting fat and
contemplating PIZZA, and I feel like
such a better person because of it.
Thanks, James. You're a serious dude.
And pay me back that fucking poker
debt of yours, or Tony is coming over to
cauterize your pecker hole.
-TB
mountainside road in montana,
whilst in hot persuit of a certain man
we will call "hill bill", in the back of a
mazda wagon, james and i clung to
one another as we gazed into the
great void beyond. then, we didn't die.
it was a little weird between us after
that. ahem.