Tuesday, April 11, 2017
Thoracic Animus (6)
"Thoracic Animus (6)"
Mutt knew, all those fostering his depressed dog had dyed red hair--FAKES! They didn't carry the true blood, neither do most people; thus, their Wicca is wishes, and you can only wish on weird, or bet on black, or bid in blue, or SpongeBob in Orange, or gamble in green, or yellow snowman in yellow--you get it, maybe.
And Mutt would position his wallet or other items, leaving the room, and seeing if they had been moved by these artificial red heads, and they had.
But their control is like a fake alien invasion released. An illusion of bologna intrusion, and the blue vests need to get smarter, or wiser, hating pride, arrogance, and false testimony.
Mutt got his dog back, played some Poker with the holy hound. Found the Fool Card, but there is no Western Dakota. So, he went to the real red--Chief. Beautiful, scorched before in truth and passion, not drinking the Kool-Aid, for his people were his people, and didn't belong to any man save the Great Spirit. When he entered Chief's bungalow, he kept his Iroquois, but reserved his Orthodox Serb, not wanting to get ignited by vociferous voracity with another truth being hijacked hungry.
Thoracic Animus (5)
"Thoracic Animus (5)"
Mutt reflected upon Winchester the 3rd,
That thoracic surgeon thinking meatball surgery did disturb,
Yet worse than someone saying it's not your house,
And a razor wristways, thinking you're homeless--blame their demon; specifically, their spouse;
Alas, things could have union for Mutt,
Knowing Christ said they will hate you because of Him, like of Han Solo did Jabba the Hutt;
Moreover, once union arriveth, and a duplicate you become of David's metaphorical son;
Next, everlasting from everlasting, like Roy Rogers' reruns and his six-gun.
But Mutt only carried his little, depressed dog,
Offering comfort and solace while uplifts their nostrils like a snob,
Thinking their shit doesn't stink because of a white shirt,
When it only covers the coal of a black heart, filthy as diabolical dirt;
As a result, Mutt felt no guilt for persevering due to a Messiah,
Glad he lived in Dakota and not Carolina.
Monday, April 10, 2017
Dodgers play Cubs--TONIGHT
"Dodgers play Cubs--TONIGHT"
Tonight, the Chicago Cubs will raise their Wold Series Champion Banner; moreover, my favorite team, the LA Dodgers will be there, giving plenty of LIVE-ACTION.
And watching baseball on television is not boring, unless you're a boring person--in my opinion, but yes, you cannot smell them cooking Dodger Dogs out in actual California, but the essence and spirit of it can be brought into your imagination, even if you boil a turkey dog; next, lather up a bun with some spicy mustard and add a kosher dill spear, followed by pouring yourself an ice cold Bud. So, TONIGHT--Dodgers face the Cubs!
Dodgers Record:
W: 4 L: 3
Cubs Record:
W: 4 L: 2
Thoracic Animus (4)
"Thoracic Animus (4)"
Mutt's cross breed of Serb and Iroquois ignited an intuition nearly feminine, and he heard the thunderous crank of metal clanging outside his modest habitat; next, a walk in the park--hearing their footsteps outside his door. He kept on guard as instructed by Moses' literary endeavors, which he received no money for.
It was always something. Like--peaks and valleys. As we mourn in this valley of tears. But gravity is at a loss when intention is a misunderstood State of Grace.
Mutt wouldn't let circumstance walk over him. Burn Joan; next, Mark Twain gives her a Phoenix.
Can they hold the Patriots down?
Mutt found nothing but more canine suspicion, yet they missed his sense of loyalty and friendship.
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