filmstrips, METAFORINE SOCIAL, shit.
THE FUTURE AND 'THIS.
LOOK like you're SEEING THIS FILM A DOCUMENTARY ON RELIABLE NOSTRADAMUS. The mites
READY TO SAVE, SO 'TO PLAY WELL, YOU GET THE SCREEN YOU.
blaspheming God THINK ON HIM WHEN THE NOSE PIG.
HIM AND 'THE TRUE GOD, THERE, AND HAS 60 YEARS' a Nazi megalomania shit.
SOON THE LOVE, I love his name. RAY
KURTZVEIL.
For some peoples of the world perpetually at war with each other, Jesus is been the historical savior of humanity.
I wonder who saved them before his coming.
were sentenced to be condemned for lack of time available to the rescuers?. However
.
He did a lot of miracles, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, integrating the misfits.
It was everything and being able, having the power and the blessing of himself, he did what he did.
3 days, 3 nail ... and they NEU-TRA-ZA-TO-LIZ.
annihilated.
To prepare the dough in the oven for two people my mother claimed to 1000ml of sauce.
1 liter of sauce for two people.
1 kg of white sauce.
A pint of white sauce.
½ liters per head.
the historical Jesus was savior of mankind, and that was all he could, in his power, he has performed.
was neutralized by three nails.
They have even used a pound of nails.
weighed but I do not know what the legend is fleeting, religions are unlikely.
The fact remains that, on paper, and gastronomically speaking, my mother is the most pretentious of Jesus, and it passed.
Fa la pasta baked with ingredients in quantities greater than those used in the act of crucifixion.
... the class is not water.
... a ginocchio non è lo sternocleidomastideo.
Oggi mi divertirò parecchio, col mio cervello.
Per farlo, devo riportarlo (il cervello pesa niente) alla giornata di ieri, sabato l'abito.
Venere la cenere.
Giove le ove.
Mercole le nesopole.
Marte le scarpe.
Lune la fune che fine non avrà.
Va la Rosina bella al mercà'.
Trecentomilalire annue, spese durante i tre anni obbligatori, per gli obbligatori testi, per poter frequentare le obbligatorie scuole medie hanno portato a questo.
Ci impararono quella canzone.
Mentre la intonavamo, mi affascinavano gli ipotetici milleusi che avrei potuto do with the rope of moons.
The psychiatrist I clip the wings, so I stopped dreaming.
I converted to the religion that worships the Ritalin in a frozen night in late August.
Since yesterday was Saturday, there was a dick to do Camillo and I had already warned the day before the ash, to Jason Vhoories, we went to the luxurious conference center in San Cursed del Tronto, province of Ascoli olivafritta Piceno (AP).
Yes, the province "of" where live those ignorant ungrammatical enhanced by microscopic views of living in the Middle Ages, celebrating this lifestyle by the Quintana every fucking summer.
Office error is marked "sternocleidomastideo" that "demand."
Quintana no.
Softwareuncolo ignorant fascist. But
succumbs.
Despite his forties, Camillo has behaved correctly, warned that parents would be home in time for lunch.
The mother was eternally grateful to him, turning a page of the week puzzles, trying not to think her son alone in a world of destruction and drugs too expensive.
Entering the front door (usually enter the emergency exit to avoid paying) we cast into a world foreign to our particular way of conceiving life.
To use a metaphor of the singer Samuele Bersani euphemistic, "suck life from the corners, so she has no complaint of "harassment by suction abominable."
gigantic tapestry caressed the front desk, one with the large waiting room equipped with piano.
I would have liked to taste the poetry of this 'nice tool, but desistei, aware that in some art circles, the real one, and the various semantic fields adjoining, act solely for ornamental purposes, using them would be an insult against conformity wanted by' dullness conservative feature / characteristic hotels of a certain level to be scientifically correct (**** stars).
As if now I come to your house, I see a chair and ruin sedendomici.
But we are mad?
The voice of my friend set director was quick to accept us in all respects as two of the sector, secure and proud, as we climbed the stairs with no cure us of the response of the receptionist, whose voice echoes behind our backs aware, a vaguely remembered "the conference is on the second floor."
We knew.
The request was a pure formality for the return stroke of musically could not be toying with the object of hatred of each student shopen.
I write how the fuck I want, right?
... Oh well, I do not remember how to spell Chopin, 'MOUNT' n fig, so it is just a blog, we are network, ignorance has been accepted, forgiven, integrated, now also award-winning, as overflowing flooded, so hurry up and turn the mouse wheel, moves the page down the bottom, without fuss.
Ignorance is Strength.
the second ramp, struck by a deadly breath, I crossed (Jesus?) Eyes with an old lady of twenty years, over, inside the old, unconscious dead, alive by a miracle agreement concluded in the outdated with outdated laws DIY mortality.
Thanks to computers it has come to be able to negotiate with our destiny.
not you know?
Go to wikipedia, search for "How die without fouling too much. "
intrasensoriale Conspicuously marked by the experience, to tone down gloomy dell'infausta climb Camillo informs me that today, if you're nobody and you want to become a director, rather than the canonical 10% on your agent you are sucking the 40 trading feasible without .
You have to adapt as the orgies of gifted, even if you are visibly below the average of the health committee.
... You can still buy books Macro Edizioni affixed to regain self-esteem in a second, third time.
should only strong will and blind faith in personal coach Roy Martina.
1 Dvd 1000 hopes.
... and we have a lot of the above the messianic average of 3 nails, here is what "the human race has progressed further evolved."
arrived in front of the infernal conference room door (bitch, down the fucking radio, we understand that you've worked the last six years just to buy a stereo system in accordance with NASA, do not do it 'weighs on us, and What the fuck!) Camillo risfoderato the baritone voice of the galaxy by managers to persuade the fierce vigilance, atavistic walkie talkies equipped (even plurals Inglese them write it as I think).
To be a conference of editors was a very controlled.
Very safe. Two
boing747 the WTC, a plane wing of the Pentagon, fourth plane into the district of Somerset were unable to stop them.
we risk being stopped in its tracks.
Four buildings, ten bouncers and we are still above the average of the Lord.
See?
Over time, what has surprised us even lost value.
entering, assail us forcing us to subscribe. Now I think "Yeah I have to carve, to know me before I brought the guitar back, left-handed as a vocation, not by choice, unable to use tools of right-handed.
was the rhyme time in my life when I signed Rod Serling.
And before that day, the art gallery suffered The same evening I signed Rod for a second time, after noticing that all participants signed first by e-mail address (or myspace), then with your name, address style semi / not legible, type of doctor scribbles.
A degree in medicine is this: given the power to invent a doodle that's you, your name on paper is not recyclable.
the face of environmentalism.
As at school, good villains come up with pranks of juicy, we took place in front of the room, hung with paintings dubbissimissimo taste, non-existent value, tending to human low shot, but a nice fake acrylic triptych of the god Zeus intention to launch a ball (the world?) v ship, in that exact moment when the story took place right under the flying bed on which he epically Rising muscular, strongly points from the concept of realization / rationalization / implementation of existing human scale of the painting.
But he was (I speak as a deity in the past fallen into disuse, except when New Year is called by children and adolescents arsonists) a god.
could afford.
In the penultimate row, in front of my red glassy eyes of sleep, a paunchy rampant semi obese manager in his fifties. From time to time he turned, smiling, in an attempt to establish a relationship between the old guard and the venture new generations to educate and preserve, succeeding in similar results to those obtained with the will to pass a camel through the eye of genetically modified a needle without the aid of a nano assembler.
has not been sluggish indifference on the part of Camille or discourtesy on my part, my attention was traveling on the wavelength of the musical note, white cotton illusory imperfection formed by chance behind the jacket of this rampant prossimissimo death Explosion infarction, tie, automatically looking for youth attention.
A note without additional cutting.
The guy was a man who knows what he wants even when no one knows exactly what the menu has to offer. Had it not been for
elargitami innocent nudge from my fellow adventure I would have been staring at that patch of dry cleaning lint from wrong to try to understand the key (I had already mentally placed in a fruitful staff) .
not why I write books on music as Maurensig.
"You see that guy, those two files back?".
I did not understand.
intuitively sensed that he was referring to the kind of soggy hamburger human placed in the row saddest and least colorful of the entire room.
recurve on itself, as sacredly pledged to pour into the soul of itself, the homunculus peering fruits of years of wrong feeding, gazing, the prominent belly, appearing as the eyes of the careless ... a human hamburger.
is a hamburger, does not mean that the company forbade him to have a chance to make their way of life in the ruthless market. The guy was
("E '" if he did not die during the night), an anthropologist married to a petite Thai lady is not present in the room.
Years ago he went to Polynesia to study a Maori tribe remained at the dawn of industrialization dirty ipertechnopsycho in vogue on the planet.
He spent six months in the company of the people undergoing a multitude of "evidence of dignity, "so she could buy up the trust, the tribe's consent to be examined under a microscope.
Six months of fighting with wild beasts (hamburger fight with the tiger?), Countless voyages into the jungle wilderness (hamburger in the salad?), Exercise test (hamburger suffering?) And nothing, nothing, the Maori were not that feelings need to give him the luxury of vivisection.
Big Mac vivisection Maori tribes.
I can already see the headlines!
Discouraged, the anthropologist created in the laboratory to the Mc Donald (I'm not good at finding metaphors / similes appropriate to indicate in a stylistically acceptable hamburger five feet from me) was about to leave the island forever not remember the name when ...
A sign of the gods. A sign from the gods
The antropoburger was able to examine under a microscope, dissect meticulously the Maori tribe, his primitive habits, with the full consent of the tribal chief after a clear, unequivocal act manifesting the will of the lord of the Polynesians.
Sitting under a palm tree, the anthropologist felt his head explode when a coconut fell on the head.
was the signal by which the lord of the tattooed people gave its approvals so that the progress of malls invaded the laughing tribe Ounces Were Warriors more primitive than Jake "the fury".
A year of living with the Maori did not help to lose weight do, in fact, those who knew him first argues that the experience was a handsome, wiry Indiana Jones Noantri.
... they say the abundance is given to the racist people of the West ...
The speakers were a handful of representatives of the most prestigious Italian publishing houses. A
a handful of Maori meters from my nose dripping snot generated from the assumption of repeated derived from grasses (mucus are not bacteria, Pasteur is exceeded, mettetevelo in the head or the hard disk that you have implanted in the cerebral cortex ) were spokesmen for Minimum Fax, Mondadori, Einaudi, etc..
With a simple homemade bomb could put a stop publishing rubbish in Italy just at the moment there I thought I was doing the association Piano downstairs / Maori in front of me.
The Piano is a film to be reassessed.
Oh, I'll be the only one Alpha male in the world that he dreamed, he moved with Holly Hunter reciting the spastic mute melancholy attached to his piano, he lets her go down in the bottom of the ocean after being crippled by that asshole was Agent Smith in The Matrix, angry at you for extramarital relations between his wife and the fake Maori Bad Lieutenant Harvey Keitel once again that shows the bird (it will be proud of it) but I'm not ashamed.
think that Sara's house no more TV in the dining room (economic reasons) and instead of it, shines its lush cover of the VHS of this magnificent film.
instills a bit 'of peace to the turbulent behavior of life for parents of my girlfriend friend girl next door (one person can be all things to another person, you can, I think when I'm alone and I do not have to clean up the handkerchiefs breast dirty my children ever born).
The old, outdated items followed one another in loops in the bad acoustics of the room half empty, if after publishing market research publishers.
After five minutes I realized that if the publishing industry is in the hands of people like that, you might as well offer themselves as guinea pigs for experiments already underway on the installation of nano technology in humans.
This, plus a feeling of nausea lazy banality perpetrated by third parties.
No bucket to pour the food the previous day.
I resisted with great effort.
filth, vulgarity, cryptic ambiguity (spoke to a 1 byte per minute, arrived on a delayed three seconds without the hindrance of the microphone), carelessness, ignorance about the human condition.
I will not say anything about what I heard.
The result is that I understand how we perceive ruling class.
From home, with computers, they think they know / understand the world outside of their homes, and decide what to do, arch convinced they know what is best qualified to know and what is better left hidden in dusty corners of the collective.
55% OF THE ITALIAN never read.
's 11% read a book each month.
THE LAW OF 30% 2 books a year.
LIVES IN THE REMAINDER OF FACTORY WILLIE Wonka.
It was there that I examined the idea of \u200b\u200bgoing to the bathroom to masturbate (eject weakness) or visit the unattended hotel rooms (the convention center has 110 rooms, not even a ben abitata).
Succube figlio della MTV generation quale sono, ho optato per il passivo, perpetuo stato di quiete, non spostando il culo dalla sedia manco d'un pico millimetro.
Parlavano, parlavano, articolavano frasi senza senso, banalità dopo atrocità, il tempo s'era cristallizzato e, passata la fase contemplativa di tale fenomeno scientifico/spettacolo cronologico, ho assistito al processo di deterioramento e ammuffimento dell'orologio biologico del mio organismo arreso alle leggi naturali.
Intanto passavano la parola “a”...
Non fossero state le alte scarpe dal tacco 72 di una bionda brufolosa avrei abbandonato la sala gridando all'attentato bomba terroristi fate qualcosa inoffensivizzatevi bowls for the love of god denied drowned!
It takes little to keep me good.
One guy was tasting scene, me and the blonde team the circus stilts.
An unhealthy triad at the center of a room esoteric gear.
At the time of discharge, in the throes of emotion (brain) I have produced a spontaneous applause from the heart, sincerely for having given to my captors spared two hours of non-philosophical monologues on the concept of absolute nothingness in contrast to the cosmic void.
The center of the atom is empty, the reality is an illusion created by the brain / eyes that sent perceive as real and the rest of the body, which the records and agree as a tangible, solid, thanks to our software that would be the deoxyribonucleic acid ("DNA" if you look on facebook to ask the friend or if you just like this).
Such awareness, no more surprises, but I was appalled in the face of unquantifiable so empty, I felt like Silver Sufrer lost among millions of galaxies, stars stuck to the electric blanket in the universe.
Without even a distributor of coffee.
then why Silver Surfer was sick, his armor started to rot together the (zone one with it) and ceased to exist in this size, lying on a bed in the middle of his beloved Zenn-La.
escaped from the nerve center of power no self service we went to the Coop to quell the anxiety, frustration, dissatisfaction, with gargantuan binge.
The food has become the version of "natural" of psychiatric drugs.
take pills to smile. We hire for butter
serotonizzarci and benevolent cosmic tune frequencies so you can bear, always there if the system allows for 30 more years in a call center or in our office amatodiato.
Office?
unofficial thing?
I were / are you taking the piss?
Well continuate pure, tanto sarà ancora per poco.
Camillo ha optato per uno strategico bombardamento alle transaminasi, immettendosi nel piatto ben 644g (pesato da competente bilancia digitale) di olive ascolane fritte (“quintana”, “ignoranza”, “olive fritte”; dietro a tutto questo scorgo un complotto di proporzioni infinitejestiane, perché “bibliche” mi pare troppo piccolo, sopratutto ora che abbiamo appurato quanto mia madre, in termini di besciamella e non, riesca con nonchalance a battere i record del Signore), crocchette di patate e verdure fritte.
La parte riguardante una sana, coscienziosa pulizia della coscienza risiede nel contorno, cotto a vapore, peas and carrots in plastic.
This is also a theme that returns in the post, though always persevere in reading my cock, lovingly flat-spotted the eyes of thousands of lovers of really curious voyeuristic snuff movies socially acceptable.
Personally, I opted for a healthy dose (525g) of vegetables baked in Bergen Belsen, to balance the calories of protein a body devoted to massive consumption of alcohol at Eurospin (lower middle rasentante the ground).
chewing, I looked around me regenerating, reinterpreting the apathy of the others facing the 12,000-inch LCD screen that told what was happening in the world. A guy
wanted to flirt with me, I do not know what "flertare" so I made him understand that we could do together all you wanted as long that would take your pants get up in the meantime Camillo was justified by saying that at home eating "normal" for the , when it is to consume meals outside and from the family, is prone to excesses abound comforters fried.
I understand well. Use
fried as I use the triple malt.
got into the car, direct to my house to give me a way to expel the waste from the process of synthesizing food (I had to shit bad), we have enjoyed sound art technotronic good, old, loved Prodigy in this timeless masterpiece is "The fat of the land." From simple
not tolerate the drum &bass; the Prodigy are a separate book, Fat of the land it is the only formidable chapter in 52 min - 21 s (the one I have, the original, so hard, then I do not know you and I do not care).
arrived on the waterfront we enjoyed the delicious hide the sun, the enemy is not suitable for cyanotic, reptilian like us.
I reasoned to hibernate.
In this cauldron of fake palm trees and ill-fed sewage ENTAILING in our beautiful sea blue flag (that is, the water is blue Martinsicuro even when it is taken out of context maritime per riporla ad esempio in un bicchiere; chi ha detto che “l'acqua non ha colore, è trasparente e il mare è blu perché riflette il cielo”? Venite, ve lo dimostro. Ricordatevi le maschere anti contaminazione nucleare, altrimenti nisba, non voglio passare guai per voi) Camillo ha illuminato sulle scoperte di un personaggio ancora da inquadrare bene.
Avete presente Ozymandias di Watchmen?
Esiste.
Ha 60 ed è un perfetto stronzo.
È un dio reale.
Crea, distrugge, trasforma a suo piacimento.
Ray Kurzveil è un tipo vagamente somigliante a Enrico Ghezzi.
La differenza tra i due risiede nel contributo dato all'umanità.
The second makes her laugh and think.
The first restructuring the molding in molds. In summary
pills (and groceries, the shit you'll see feeds capsules as below).
Kurzveil Ray, a good fascist, reasons for twentysomethings.
Twenty years after twenty years.
The owners of Our Lives (Stephen Jobs, Bill Gates etc.. Etc.) Telefonatina him with when they are unsure what to do.
Ray is an expert in all, scientist and inventor.
with mathematical perfection can predict what will happen.
You know why?
No, not if it pulls you read all the books of David Icke, or because it feels bigger than Roy or Martin because he possesses all the "illegitimate children", paper and video, The Secret (and here I've finished all the clichés about the new pseudo FOUND Omniscient assets / buy online). He provides
WHY 'he creates.
You know those horrible cartoons of the sixties where there was a jerk who put a brick (or something) in a machine of metal that was crackling, skipping a few seconds, and then came BUM shoes, cars, televisions and articles similar?
The nano assembler is one of the things that Ray is working.
Thus, for example.
"predicted" that would have created a computer capable of defeating man chess.
Done.
Kasparow at home with their tails between their legs.
is testing on himself nano technologies sentient car.
You have cancer?
Just a shot. The nano
cells traveling alone, without "accompany" the human cancer where it is situated, if the locksmith and then deleting it, once finished the job, without even a letter of dismissal, are expelled from the body with a good crap.
Prostitute robot?
Today there are few and imperfect, reserved only for wealthy businessmen from life disaster, using that money, the scientists under the supervision of Ray endeavor to continue the search, until it can mass produce, at affordable prices, so that all of us we have one, as is the case with dogs and cats in Korea mechanical REAL always of his own invention, until the world will be populated (I think that this has "predicted" in 2020 and is not an asshole that wrong!) from humans and sentient machines with human feelings.
When we look at a person ask if it is an original or a fake.
FICTION?
I tell you mine.
From what I could ascertain, what we call "science fiction" "Fictional science" really is a science that, when it is assumed, discovery, is too complex to be understood, implemented, seem exaggerated, if not ridiculous.
because it is "fantastic science".
Sci-Fi.
Why is not called "Science can not," "Impossible Science. Take a
australopitecus afarenesis: Talk of Gutenberg's movable type or RFID chip implanted in humans.
will respond with a club, followed by a UH UH UH, translated from language to language ape-human means ...
FICTION.
Cazzo, stiamo qui a grattarci i peli delle ascelle scimmiesche, a stordire le femmine con clavate in testa, cercando di capire come scheggiare una pietra per ucciderci così per passare il tempo e tu non solo mi dici che i nostri pensieri possono essere messi per iscritto, prima con disegnini del cazzo, poi con grafemi, stampati in grandi quantità e divulgate al mondo talmente evoluto da doversi difendere da sé stesso assicurandosi pure il buco del culo, ma anche che dio non esiste?????
Be', per una domenica mattina nel pleistocene è un pochino ino troppo.
Dici fandonie.
Ora, se permetti, vado a vedere se mi è possibile creare un aratro.
... qualche passettino più in là, l'umanità è a questo livello, perciò non stupitevi di niente.
Dick, Gibson (no Mel, quello è un cristiano fascista di merda) Huxley, Matheson, Serling, non erano visionari dalla fervida geniale immaginazione che “ci hanno azzeccato”, ne le fonti d'ispirazione dei progettatori, costruttori di mondi e realtà.
Era gente che sapeva guardare avanti senza la tanto millantata VISIONARIETA' CLASSICA DEL CAZZATARO SCRITTORE DI FANTASCIENZA.
Così come Orwell.
Per il 2040, al massimo 2050 ognuno di noi avrà (altro che microchip; 'na pippa) un hard disk nel cervello e, come in Johnny Mnemonic del già citato Gibson saremmo delle USB flash drives fucking street.
All this, as usual, with our full blessing.
assume. When we
sentient androids, most of us humans (in Korea has fired a lot of English teachers and in their place we have put robots ... you know why? Because the robots were more patients!) Imagine the technology we have at home.
Right now, with various detergents and cocks in the house that you can make several bombs and napalm.
You can become a skilled McGyver.
In the future, imagine only (and only science fiction, as when they speak and precisely ascertained that the earth was flat, at the time believed this blindly, who said the opposite was fucking back and forth without joy, if not forever), there is much technology, high quality QUALITY 'it will be. A common frustration fifteen
could make life a constant joke to say a few thousand people.
PANIC: ALL would commit a genocide with a pin hair !!!!!!!!!!!!!
global nuclear alert, ALARM HUMAN crazy. We
us to let us drill the skull to take some type contraption that crap of water purifiers that are installed in the home fans to purify the new age of ultra-fluoridated tap water, for our security, AS USUAL.
That has to do with security?
As we begin to produce anti-social thoughts and bad, that is the famous "Psycho offense" in babbling Orwell in 1984 (so much science fiction as the medieval playstation3 on a pyre), we like to watch the "Precog" Minority Report, shit where the note that says "guilty" and we will be executed without trial (if one thinks evil once more and can do it!), for the good of humanity FREE for any worries, which will no longer need to work in As the machines will be able to work auto program e. ..
No, go ahead, I already have dilungato oltre misura, devo continuare il racconto del sabato folle.
Ricordatevi che è tutta fantascienza, sono tutte stronzate ed è impossibile perché...
Perché lo dite voi e perché lo dico io.
Perché ci fa comodo.
Perciò guardate tutti gli elettrodomestici INUTILI che avete attorno (un frullatore serve alla razza umana come la razza umana serve alla madre terra), ridete di loro, in quanto GIA' SORPASSATI, e ridete di quei patetici operaietti degli anni '50 che avevano un solo televisore in bianco e nero ogni dieci famiglie.
Negli anni '40 era fantascienza che gli umani creassero una luminosa scatola parlante in grado di trasmettere immagini a distanza.
C'era to fight the war and nothing else.
In the 50s it was fiction that each family had a TV in the house, was to think of the post war reconstruction, which èèèèèèè meeeeegilo, as would private.
Go to the Leonardo da Vinci and say: "You who do so much capiscione, you know the Smurfs? Be ', then' fuck you and your newfangled, bum da best seller by Dan Brown / Gerry Scotti (if you look at the photo you see that Dan is with Jerri Tera 2 pounds of fat in less ... and as he would say, " May God bless you ").
We went and took Sarah on galloping notes of Johnny Cash and his amazing greatest hits purchased for the modest sum of diecimila lire, quand'era fantascienza possedere una macchina luminosa a intermittenza che ti fa avere gratis tutta la musica desiderata in pochi minuti.
Camillo ci ha deliziato con la narrazione del suo ultimo lavoro su commissione.
Camillo è un regista di film e del resto.
Alla porta di casa, gli si è presentata la madre superiora di un arcaico convento.
“Mi manda il fotografo”.
Camillo ha subito pensato a un complotto oftalmo/clericale (gioco di parole scemo tra il fotografo e la casta dei man in balck pedofili di clausura) ma poi s'è rincuorato quando la madre superiora gli ha consegnato le fotocopie di tre passaporti di suore filippine, cosicché avesse potuto add their names spelled correctly in the menus of the DVD, on which played an hour of high mass to celebrate the hiring of three sisters, in fact, the Philippines.
Today as you take on today only in church.
The disadvantage is another.
If you resign (or speak) will make your ass.
It is not nice.
While in church, the people is moved by HOLINESS 'of the occasion, who were seen in 46 years that his country was not celebrated a rite of that thickness, so as to have a bother cardinalvescovocamerlengo wearer of a hat twice as greater than those which usually begins Jamiroquai, possessor of a golden throne bishop of the size of a new Panda model, Camillo was dedicated to invigorating activity of double recovery, SHOOT DOUBLE (not pornographic sense), having understood the true magnitude of the event humorous, having decided to have his recovery personnel to view and review joyfully lively in the privacy of her bedroom , away from watchful eyes warner to make fun of medieval bullshit that Catholics are still doing today, now that we are on the threshold of a pan technologizing the human being, not to say the Die Mensch Maschine Kraftwerk crautosi.
The development consisted of a long litany in which all were cited, one by one (but not in order of influence, importance, power exercised) and say to all the saints in the calendar, a day, 365 (366 if leap year), more martyrs, holy apostles and so on and so forth away because my stomach full of bile.
The three sisters of the Philippines, spread on the floor, offered their chastity to the Lord.
The contract was not specified "which" give the man hole in the grim universe of confining chastity, to be used for and what use / purpose hobbies and leisure (the clergy's right to recreation, otherwise then they take it with the children; Oh yeah, I remember before I forget, in the future society will (already do not remember which country) of the children to vent mechanical pedophiles, thinking that they have LA TESTA INTERCAMBIABILE, COSI' LO STUPRA CULETTI AVRA' L'ILLUSIONE DI VARIARE L'OGGETTO DEI PROPRI ABUSI, altro che quella puttana di megan gale che sostiene che il mondo è intorno a te, col cazzo).
L'effeminato trentenne prete vecchio dentro, con fare effeminato tendente all'omosessuale a 367,45° cantava da cappone castrato ricordando l'ormai dimenticato primo cantante dei Dream Theatre, quand'ancora si facevano chiamare Majestic e scassavano le palle il triplo di adesso (anzi, fino a poco fa, Portnoy se n'è andato perché nelle sue ville non aveva più spazio per nascondere il soldi che non riusciva a far entrare nelle strabordanti banche svizzere), alzando l'indice auditel di commozione generale tanto the idea that makes you a veteran nun sailed to extract from his bag a small hand-held camera to perpetuate the fleeting moment.
Here we enter the territory of the destination movie.
Camillo was recovering the nun director.
The nun's arm cast in a grotesque tzukamotesca craetura telecamerizzata turned, doing a masterful overview of the hall full of returnable bottles dripping from his eyes minerals for Christ, with Christ, Christ and we are three, plus the driver, the motor Mystical (needless to go to Naples four on a scooter, which serves as a divine power?) so long as it is over the physical space available and she has been seen trapped in the objective Camillo, a nun who was focused on decoding the picture of Camille with his camera, which turned goal tetsuoesca kinetic movements of the chaste bride of Christ, to resume a fixed camera Camillo fixed on her.
The revised his movies, could establish that depend quell'automa fides life was for 40 seconds, with the expression of an android face demagnetized printed in Camillus to resume taking it.
It was brave, my faithful companion of raids, did not lower his eyes (the camera) even before the power omni (IM) powerful (non) person, let alone in front of his wicked emissary.
Jungian free association: I say "emissary" I say "den of tigers."
's what brings in prepubertal couch potatoes.
Had I known ...
stunned the car in a parking lot of luck, since it's Saturday and all the good sheep they went to the course (our goal) to make the tanks back and forth, alternating the daily routine of visiting / shopping centers.
mall Monday. Tuesday
course. Wednesday
mall.
course
Thursday Friday Saturday
mall full.
The creative flair of modern man !!!!!!!
Ci ri rechiamo di fronte al palacongressi per visitare i molteplici stand sotto cui vari autori tentano di vendere i propri cartacei figli, i loro preziosi romanzi, le loro immortali raccolte di poesie.
15€ un libro di 50 pagine di un autore sconosciuto e quel figlio di troia di editoruncolo si lamentava che non legge più nessuno.
Perché lo fai, disperata ragazza mia?
Costa meno dell'ultimo di Pynchon.
E poi, perché ti ho conosciuto.
Detto questo debbo dire dell'invasata di Fides Vita.
Abbiamo conosciuto una folle barbona per scelta.
Ricca di famiglia.
Questa ragazza gira con uno zaino zeppo di cibarie, coperte, ricambi, to fall asleep anywhere, when all the friends refuse to put in the car.
"Can I sleep in the car?" Is one of the frequent questions posed to her more, and not equipped car.
He told us of his latest venture, a trip to the bare feet of Km25, foil made to the Lord to make her lover come back with her.
Her beloved is a giant, an expert with the nunchaku, terrified by UFO abductions (in a shooting carried out by Camillus to his last film, made in a wheat field, our director was giving instructions to a UFO that seemed, then virtually added during assembly, the same kidnapping (while waving nunchaku) with its laser beam, he changed expression, has refused to pursue a solo adventure into the world of acting) and holder of various gadgets like water purifier that I mentioned a few lines above fifty.
have been together seven months and then dumped him because he could not stand it anymore.
Now she spies on him, follows him from a distance, he begins to sleep outside the door of his house barefoot marathons and plays to please the limitless power of our good God, that performs a spell that makes the return ufofobico muscular ninja Catholic in his arms.
do not mess with this, the policemen who wanted to stop a concert, she asked if you have the suitable decibelometro, after quarter of an hour they ran behind the steering wheel while she ran screaming insults.
Finished hear his litany of concerning the worship of practicing new age, we went to a small art gallery exhibiting the works of impeccable not remember the name, one that creates compositions of vegetables made in polyurethane, they put inside a plastic display case and sell them at € 22,500.00 (big ones), 10000.00 small ones.
Upon entering you immediately the feeling of suffocation, the tiny size of the room you want, you want the futility of the first work to leap in the field of view of this "unfortunately inclusive artist.
The stones of the master.
Before lunch we took a shot from outside the gallery, called this fact "The stones of the master."
I was the voiceover, extolling the virtues exist, while three Neapolitan builders looked at us askance, wondering exactly what time we sneaked in there to fuck 'to mercanzhiijia' s' or master.
Of all the shrines that struck me most was the one with the cauliflower.
were six.
One that looked like the all-seeing eye on this U.S. dollar bills (do not say "The eye of the Illuminati" or else then I go reading about conspiracies, become paranoid, I lose all my hair and come looking for me with the revolver because before you read that crap and peacefully coexisted with that of Nibiru reptilian Venusians with Venus .... more ash).
The show was a huge success for us all nine of the spectators.
There were the inevitable chips flavored with artificial cheese, the pizza-shaped shithouse gravitating to the highly cultured flies in the narrow room used as an art gallery world, and potato starch / clouds of dragon ill. There were
Crodino but they have boycotted them all (the art is always alcoholic) and there was Berlucchi.
It was to him that I devoted all my attention, after it emerged from the hypnotic trance generated by the pleasure of watching a salad from € 22,500 on the wall.
I made half a bottle of Berlucchi after I drank many liters of beer in a bar where I had gone to pee, let alone have escaped after the fidesvitiana, do not know how we reached the tunnel, laughing As ... a crazy ... is the case say.
Camillo has interviewed while I decided to do another interview.
In one corner (the whole room was a corner) was a desk, on which sat the daughter of the director of the gallery (I only found out after several minutes). At the heart of
work table (not to write "desktop" twice in a row, is not good) was a kind of ash used as a door candy.
I sat, I set the daughter of the director and I said: "We do one thing. Looking at the candy I was reminded of my childhood, when I went to the doctor and he pungicava syringe with the vaccine and then gave me sweets, do so. You're the doctor and ask me what it is that hurts me, so I would say that as in an interview, the opposite of what it is doing Camillo, "indicating his Camillo camera fitted.
I must have awakened in her trauma buried in some obscure black boxes on the edge of the psyche, nightmare of uncles tastes with special propensity to "play doctor?".
She made white in the face: "NO, THIS GAME DO NOT WANT IT."
I promptly replied: "It's not a game", then I made the connection and I was silent.
Which is better.
Towards closing time, nine of which were left of it in three, with empty-handed, to quote the poetry of the past maxpezzaliana.
The day ended in a sad bar where I made an examination of conscience, and I realized that I was not the need of analysis, but all the others died young in voids the brindanti not know / not c'è motivo di brindare/non si prospetta nessun futuro alcuno.
E fissando i fondi di caffè di questa umanità, portavo alla mia bocca amari bicchieri.
“Amari bicchieri” non era una metafora; al barista ho chiesto un cocktail a piacere e quello stronzo mi ci ha infilato il bitter.
Bashtardo.
Così, si conclude questo tour de force della domenica mattina.
Sono le 13:46. Sto inchiodato qua dalle 10:29 (lo so di preciso perché al cesso c'era l'orologio).
Ora mi tocca ricorreggere tutto.
Non sarà facile ma penso ne sia valsa la pena.
Scrivere della giornata di ieri mi ha fatto capire che la vita di ognuno di noi, se viene analizzata per quello che è, risulta talmente complicata e piena da farsi fare le pippe da una sceneggiatura del calibro di “Fuori orario” o “Ore 11:14 destino fatale”.
Siamo ciò che mangiamo.
Per questo siamo dei cilindri fecali viventi.
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