chou chope

thou doth protest too much, methinks

Al Zonkarr has waged mullet jihad against me in the tongue of the great bard. how dare he expose my past indiscretions with the plump purple one on the public boards of this world? indiscretions that were shared with him alone whilst i was digging out his pickle within the safe hills of helen. i only shared that his soul might be spared some sadness for the digging of the pickle became more of an endless search, an unsatiated quest for badcock that was not to be.

fine, have it your way, oh mullet mullah:

His post 'gainst self-slaughter! O Fodder! O Fodder!
how weak, frail, spat unprofitable
Seem to me all his uses of this blogworld!
Fie on't! Fie! my blogroll tis an unweeded garden,
that grows not the good weed;
but things skank and grossly immature
Possess it dearly. That it should come to this!
But in two months dead! nay, not so much, not two:
Helen aligns us all in just over one.

can't wait, supa freak. bring it!