Mountain Time 520: The Original Long Underwear, Which Stalled Somewhere in Kansas City
Jan09
Tune in next week for the stunning conclusion to the Mountain Time 500 Happening! It’s so profound, it’s going to take five whole days to finish.
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Click my name for some encoded limericks that I found on the webs and stuff. (The cipher is the same as “Was it Waffles?”). But only if you either have a LOT of free time, or you like limericks a lot. Or I suppose substitution ciphers.
The list grows of NSFW nudity, from a black-taped sex scene, to full frontal stickman showeringnesses in shampoo week, to todays necrophilic clothingless onion. Admittedly, they only ever wear masks, and… yeah. If I knew what I was going about, I would probably have to make up for it by eating mascara or something.
I am not sure I either trust or believe these “researchers”. I have decided that love is a kind of esoteric religion, hidden behind the third door on the left. “Or was it the right?”, he said, looking wistfully down. His eyes, twitching in a sort of harmless jazz rhapsody, went lower, and lower, and lower. You gasped in shock, as his eyes keep on lowering themselves, the steam valves and miscellaneous cogs clanking and chattering in some form of language. You listen in, cosying your Bio-hazard suit in a more comfortable alignment with the stars. And they kept chattering, turning, and you couldn’t help but look in deeper. You suddenly reached your epiphany, such as it was, and what was “Furyynp ger ohfu” now issued forth from the clockwork behind his eyes as “Join us”. The red glow suddenly began to spread, a bloody tinge issuing forth from where you stood on the monstrous orb. By this time, you had reached the ground. But they didn’t stop, oh no they didn’t. The coil of nerves that had probably at one point connected to His brain wrapped itself around His ankles, slowly draggind him through the soft, loamy soil. And so, you joined Them at last. From the outside looking in, it can’t be so bad surely? And the gears of war, the inexplicable hamster in a treadmill, they would all keep on turning.
What I was meaning to say actually, was that the religion of love’s most fearsome crusaders would be elevated to the metaphorical battlefield of love, so to speak.
I look forward (or backward from your perspective if you ever sort out a camera in everyones monitors) to the surely epic comclusion. And for the record, if Hasbro ever do make a T-rex Skullcopter, it should be (mostly) fully functional.
It really doesn’t take long at all if you know where to look for help (*cough* rot13.com *cough*).
Also, for the record, that’s not a necrophiliac onion; it’s a dead one.
I’m kind of intrigued by the notion of eyes that keep looking lower and lower, because it seems like pretty soon they would’ve looked beyond anything worth looking at. The limits of human exploration, and all that.
I want some Five Alive all of a sudden.
Five Alive — such ambrosia! I can’t find it in Oregon. One time, I drove around for the better part of two hours to find it in Ohio.
…But I don’t know what you’re talking about. SPLASH! isn’t related to any real-life fruit juice cocktail. Not at all.
Hey Itso! I’m definitely going to comment here more often but I feel that you, Coldfusion et al have a nice rapport and I’d hate to nudge in on that. Maybe I’ll get an avatar, I think I’m going to stick with the don Quixote- not because I’m idealistic and crazy… No not that at all.
I TOLD them drowning your sorrows was a good idea, they kept saying it wouldn’t solve anything
Knight (actually, I think I’ll go with KWC): Everyone is welcome in the comments section! There used to be a lot more regulars, but I guess they went off to join monasteries or sew themselves into furniture, or whatever it is people do when they’re not here.
Cold: Instead of “Race for the Cure,” maybe they need to get people together to “Dig an Exceptionally Deep Pit for the Cure.”
Or at LEAST for Robert Smith.
Boys don’t cry — especially not when they have giant holes in the ground dedicated to them.