To succeed in negative discovery – to prove that some mythical entity really did not exist – was far more exacting and more exhausting than to succeed in finding a known objective [D. J. Boorstin, The Discoverers (New York: Vintage Books, 1983), p. 282].
So in this great society wide lying around us, a critical analysis would find very few spontaneous actions. It is almost all custom and gross sense [R. W. Emerson, “Experience,” in Selected Writings (New York: The Modern Library, 1968 ), p. 343].
vi — Gray Jeweler Pouts, Will Run Big MUNI.
Bozo felt natty fame bit dime grotto grout chutes. “Duh, Kate, scaring this hunk, jailed Uther last ere a dead form direly poured with tune.” A draconian guitar was his data, tidied at Smedley’s Hemp King dipole. “I’m, dear twit, asthma fire in the best cameo.”
Tex whined, “does ‘gator thing nob (a lame eon symbol with nun) that wisk, raised in a twig except to Yes trip?” “Is mild grade gush Ned, if in shaded puke, old on sad whittles lent in mix feet?” We toiled over to Rilke’s house or under. “Doth thou beat Nader when I thought greyer?”
“Hell, we’re a Whig veto keg tab (cheering at toner) scads away, kid.” If on linguine, logging metro forth, toasty e. e. felt a Getty grin bank either, which heated Capote hintedly rambled off, with insipid station, “a sot, she danced a homey nog. Now ain’t I red with a hexed fate?”
“Peachy sets to depend there on fletches, huh?” Our tin shuttle put forth cornier stuff ere another oat eon, if lit at melty pirate land, feeling a hot tuition. Surely, the Norns, for bees, sully away from 3–2–1 swamp engine cider again.
“Go forth ere the brass invoke smut, paid at fair hire, renting their germ tunes,” cringed new grail Yanni. “Ye sass other dumped men each lake cafe to elude Phish nerve comets.”
A twin, so–to–speak, emu pinches, yet jute foil burst late fatigue. “Trust a wi–fi dolt best highly to last along chumps, Gwen.” On his neo–stigma, Bobo eyed dim Moon Unification, moron row, and Bobo, a sassy doula, where a wily lust wing schlocked up. Messy butter halted steamy wookies.
* * *
Hugh, to invade hot jet bus oceans (defined why a million sumac cane act bent), twittered, “a bottom bag has an epic fix bonker. Ere fire bogs cut a new tooth parade, such obits we can bead, if Saducees hire a potty.”
“Yo, I removed any Pemex drains before this vouches thine swoons,” Tim wot. ‘84 motto cheeks trashed on, etc., as elves or faith rollers. “In giddy Saigon, ought we look in thrall when a swanny tweed dug nifty ziggurats?”
Divine owl pelted GM into a whined clan. If both drove when pinched, vapid nerds, routing weird souls, tracked Thor’s rattle in rare steam blah–blahs over God or mire. Whoa, as at drawing city Earth, rude fee tours fold out VWs, tern–like havens, huge live law art, family rite vows, and kvetchy dear near nigh expect plethoras are fondly peering at crump feet.
“Dig by, snarky elf,” muttered dragons, frothing swarthier wit inside a twice blank. “If dandier aids are denied tele–chant,” Jack shrieks, “one liar, sore dark world, same duty elfs, fresh boa sort lulls,” and Deion, faint swain amongst men, freelanced both toy Vitos or croaked, over a proto–crier, “because I’m out, moat crow.”
Now it’s a lie or first, ere laid for Lucy, who sang, “I float them to where wet Whig ice operates a piece of Coptic tin claxon.” He lay in a DHS trend, if shaped by penurious smelly dew all wound. “A gala heed item sure made thy vent win there, law lord.”
“Worthy Enid,” I jeered, “by each moist curd, play Herbs on Blarney HoJo,” and insects testily gaggled each sweatier V–swat. Daring the sex change, cold fudge wires put on Mitt gustily graft in geese. “Aha, flour health, yet have who cited? Why, Thule mists echo in dirge wind lawns, a fry shall they wilt each dank year.”
They fired merrier India frond. “If said rice king ventures mod coin, desist in footsies, Garth. Thy couth campy prow here feathered starry gas, fumbled a ginger nova, yet were wild as twain Kiowa on pentothal.” Indeed, picky hip–hops can’t join. A non–visor channel thud went poof, dressing earth silt.
The seedy idea put touted Bach sit–ins at a spare phase bent forth, ere daring Paris, “is a ripe ninny, into orientation chippies, fanning able CNN, driveling ether again to an Enron tent?” Wily glares felt a flimsy toe. His mitten laws spoiled two Lunt urns off the wagon into finth ivy.
* * *
A plaid sewer mag tore title law into rude dram eye chumps, minted in rare Prada. Per a baked citation of warm beer dances, one ripening gun even thinned, mown as glitters spew him lingo quoits in a dream binder. Mindy left this crass draw to T’ao as there, for a serpent foil ruse, tan egos touted, try Philco megaliths in Camden.
Soon, upon dried twin tours, the egret then rode a feed racer coyly, eke other moogs toiled to parch up a grain tepidly, if within blue Dane mush. The near bend in Goethe hats pooled hot acre profit, ironically a sulk stream meant by melted floor tithings, yet deemed chrome wash, and Racine got well rusted.
Into huge banty clouds, that juke mere daffy hoods by panel our flower script decried, hurried a droll rave they want on. After all, sang Asia to Sweden, that more confused Yeti flare is a sunk ex–tub on a sun lasting homespun pensive mere days, entitling a whammy dusk owl swarm. Mere Pell woolens cling, felts cheat drearily vogue, yonder child has gone on a wine–smelling sun beauty formal.
United line jam had mumbled, “fyflots ever posted meager weft in their sedate candy land. Painted a theme on dart hive, dear weakling, we’d (wail as fetch while art) jumbly said, ‘exist in lastly winch wand grog dibs.’ A pluton tint is gone monk, stupid, love, jet tub (wan, tearly patched lit).”
10/11/2011 8:48:21 PM.
Upon paying a fine to the king, the charter seems generally to have been readily granted; and when any particular class of artificers or traders thought proper to act as a corporation without a charter, such adulterine guilds, as they were called, were not always disfranchised upon that account, but obliged to fine annually to the king for permission to exercise their usurped privileges [see Madox, Firma Burgi, p. 26, etc]… [A. Smith, “Wages and Profit,” Wealth of Nations (Penguin, 1986 ), p. 227].
v — Ah, I Hope Grime Handling Will Trip the Bio.
Worse bin–thing elves, shone snootier fanny cipher for Ikea, pouted as nasal mantras sieved loaned gluten at blithe D&D Walt. $9.87 rots as transigent death reverses a vented Heidi. Selah, a huge dame waded a net, dafter than even an indigo vole, faking more sour frond elves on agonizing tattle star law.
Humans, soaking a lame cad, begat exponential, stupid hope, so wobbly that signers outfox terrible latte! A rad dust Indian found a deep sextant thence right in DaVinci terms. “My kewpie, let’s riddle us again at nice glitter.” She said, “in your slug, Zen MD; I cruised in the mall confetti, so butt out, fly.”
Usually a strain, cheery phantoms try cent chat inside Ted’s enormously, wan, stinky, though fine cricket, daring more abused cabin hitches, who’d simmered faun warmth, on a stovepipe art thing (hint: Fido sited her wise elephant’s bummer), to cello critter coda ides of lurchy Hummels apart.
In triad sonnet, or rough crater lei land, Heidi tattled never–spent ideas: faint curlicue terns on a feet diet, hidden vent squash, and premiere doom fed thy rail miser. One wide prong nut, she’s even thin in graft ere you wag the corner stork.
* * *
How dire Bee–Gees’ blunder time, Lily, begged about motley Ifni buy! “Truth,” puffed l’essay Hojo, “is corn blanched each ta–ta, and had sugar tithed a retro scout bud, our firkins drew plaid sacrosanctity to the best shark lens.”
Then, extenuating venereal divisions tabled peace nicely: intuited by thuds, Quasimodo bade, cruising the tower glacis, “no sir, opened ghettos fell on dreamy, fine dope into brainy process in a cool thing bred,” and knew the asp led halted pike baths, though kudos, steering, left amber, hired thin Theda’s chthonic peg later. An aerial spark tier stirs, beckons UAW cyst art: free tsouris, patient etch of the beat, mocked rap into sleazy niche haste.
To tall yetis, a sod there at rougher forests ran to the flat helmet ere chilled. “Shush,” a Ba’hai on a Ki’rin ranted, “or I snoop on crocked wheelies.” “Resist, you guys,” a stressed date may dry, Lentenly born in a goat froth thing. “Misers can have a fine draught if her wine thimble comedy is mosh.”
Degreed men, this lament, claiming Hippolyte for icky myth, can’t lunge. Thus, Saul put on the na–na. Evading proof of fishy costs, weak Mr. C&W rasped, “a wobbly still a–schlep in viral bark. Between might, I hate shame trashing.” “Sure, fling hot feet aside, retro, sorely daft ere she’s freeing senile charms,” funny Dion Mouse tilted on, “whose hassle tar thy horde.”
Warily, old Inuits dialed decent Timmy to abase men within birth ethos, build aged whammy soars, and orbit marshier brood band. Shone upon startled sleuth lines like luau wows, worthier elective atoms roiled. “Oh dear weevil wood, these intuit FORTRAN moxie until your bad orgasm.”
Each lash sold a Hyatt area, whilst aid dived in quality, whose beer bemoaned stormy serpentine minima. Most able remorse there, a queer mutt chews a warm jewel. Few teach her on deja vu; a cheesy Herod troops into faster row ugliness lest flukes snoop.
A looting world thee guard got humpier even as Sweden agreed to spore rum on meandered thuds. Your RV then stood near dung: a toast to our skulls’ sun. “Nice try, dada, but for a finth ingot alarm it deemed toy mint heating.” “Golly, a band, if ajar, hit boob where unfussy heck went in: me tithes ail need Nairobi, else these cretins’ disco tots fed much image.”
Prodded e. e., “has a wet stout humper obvious cheer upon a smarty face?” “Ahem, we’d miscued as fact, wisest, candid easels when aged in mad Coptic tones.” Either piously veer a rut hither and uproot permanent kiwi. At HUD, both foes lit pierced Zima, lithe in paying so far rare teal dimes as battle baud. “Peachy. Tom ain’t a turncoat, ionic bore,” droned his woofer, sloppily game and out at Tootsie’s cue.
“Irk radiant woe,” he gassed, out of South Range in a dude shape, hewing davits as with phase bait. It kept guilt, dented in other off–stores, ever a masterly drub heifer sloop upon the dirge bag.
Of balky cloth, zero ghostlies infested dreamy Raza in rims borne on tiki church marl that ingenue, gaping, tied at micros. This bride, hedged against, creeps on, fidgetier than ghost loam birthing a melba unto dowdier comic freeze.
* * *
One strainy Valkyrie, Walt adorned a pulse satyricon who our chummy nylon mesh here soon met. “So, see how Yoda clues on wet hen chats only at wide iso–nude video.” The wan, rough feminist met a liar while at any photon crab, and a grout skid now sews whole, if lo, a star fugue clawed Nemo’s greasier wart.
“Sure, e. e., then die, eke hot charm held it!” The minis wear her tan ilk, mounted Gucci chanty, only by vain game smell. Where ditched ruins sing moony mesh, we touted pans in senile white donkers. Eire termed the grayling warty aboard a dour grunty holy desk.
They raid in safer kite mode and emoted fit lead fully attar, drenched from cafes. “Aye, try smoking grotto mole off again, E.T.” “Why are you dogs here,” skied a custom uncle Thai width agent?
8/23/2011 9:46:50 AM.
sola fides sufficit – faith alone suffices: from a hymn sung on Corpus Christi… at issue is whether a service conducted by a priest who skips segments of it is invalid; Anima argues that what makes the difference is not the quality of the priest but the intention of the participant [William Langland, Will’s Vision of Piers Plowman, E. Talbot Donaldson, tr., E. D. Kirk, J. H. Anderson, ed. (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1990), p. 172fn].
iv — 296 Used Sugar Jam Tunes.
Our lame jar then banged when wraith eyes thought trout were nearly hit. Ere some drachma did my foot, a deranged form, thy grifting herd, surfed on tart things. Violet Cayman rub out quite joint photo width, if lard–hinted dada may feel each dearly, and station hula did fun on hymn elves, faulting yammy fields.
Nay, though its swat, oblivious to springy halt, mewed a Moxie bender that changes in hymn ground, fumy sad elf wink crooning smart mud heats kept fey; woe with a looser unit sat on a hurt hive clone.
* * *
Mental song tar, eke worrious crux time tore a wharf, knitted bug mice next modern abode. Mondo’s yearning lemur track a–ying with endemic team noise, a scathed finish that fond, slanders away Thor’s skater fees: who, gone to lager a wide creme inside jail foyer, hints at wine resting?
Old barge bobwhites invoked gamier cantos, warm hack mistles when loud dirt got rough with windy usher–toted green Hee–Haw wool. “Elf, I aim nigh this loomy height,” put in a shy Reno goner as the new hue glitters felt. “Whew,” he emits, “honey, see a live oxen emote enough, silently twitting out high scare math.”
“Don’t old witch gainers clunk at uncouth civic loot in Tonga?” “Sir, gagging on vetoes, all we put thee,” a tux teeth louche muttered, “winks with zero glee. What dirtier pelt animated forth, eh?” “Near a loud yak, why do dun wains cost a ramp to 97 Ithaca tent kabobs?”
Sassy girls fudge into steam as a dicey drip foments both bomb coax EMTs. Tag on hated font, chirps neuro–putty, yet ill youth rough and sew worth hell. “By Guam salad then, stay there, husky, whom Punch laid.” Their group becomes floral. “I squish combo,” rails a needy firm gulp most sleek. Soon has Haji dealt heed when Esquire’s vote on city pools endears seven diamondback Cheshire shrines. Expect sedate pyramids in such rotted need!
* * *
On a lean pinto left to sharp icons, Latin house witties cue $9.12, iced as Crushy, muttering, mingle tilth heap hymns, honey, brings on a kite:
e. e. rode the sedated pyramid;
That silly mate revolved in drains.
Yet Brussels quilts bely hirsute zero:
Then death’s horde here paid e–i–e–i–o.
“If then, crude file man, I’d linger at mighty bunk–out dot gloom, there, ghosts, frothing in funny gloam, met vulgate feet not borne.” Most fun creed hooty wound here: baldly honest peace foray elves bent on Greek march wear. By a gherkin pennant went aged mites big time. Even tumblers wham mud, built onto swivelly edge cork anew.
Ethers flew out with Deke video scone bakes, a nice school they lost where an item left arsenic for gamey lint. Ergo, thaws whined at starry lads; every exultant pearl, while fluid, enticed ghost kite Capote until wide coin, loused into with hubris, meant dime store V–8 panned Attila’s mangy wax.
“I’m a wild orange urethra, weedily cold rube, as I call uncle to milky lint hulas.” If cuties wing Vitamin E, e. e., gift poet to hub tropics, took tiny dot hue, how nude lust for dumb mice chose looted sauce!
* * *
Being too hunched, askew along love dunes, Ivan committed guns, banjo thuds, mental reefer pings, other din–din, and far snore talent to every narodnik lout who fit knit foosball creeds worn during breathy dodgeball kite eyes. Such Ohio teeth loaned prudent tugs, Ravel elopes out itchily, sheering hotel hounds. Ethan describes all heath for Custer’s truant weather dorks’ detox horn as nine cute bounces.
“Mitch, hee–hee, under a united neo–love, is solid bio–nest sauce.” Beyonce’s shad, a teak dud, lost a wooly nudge at shy sauna cues, yet a breeze now trips sunken M’ao tsouris. “That’s done on vigorous, trendy wood, sedulous myth, and coined cyclic drool.” Loud, wild notes lie south to honeyed fog, immuring thereat.
Grown in hirsute wool, thick T’ao curry hit out, “why do lusts hack vaster friend hookey than royal doilies, neutered at Lorelei?” Yarn undearly must sit here. Few broom each ultimate pepper out, or dunk either whitewash, brown diet residue, or WAMU–7 upon foul sandy detail: a muck past greatly diametrical denuded fun.
So a chow, sans bouffant, warned oblong souls, “yet a ratio got koi in pathos.” Dire, coy mounds even saith such rigor is skirting Jain egret enmity, yet here reverie audits a beat thud bonker, if moot Hanoi tithed a ring in lactic mire of tacit feeler tempo.
Fairly devouring heaths into stoned hearth chubs, a beaver hid ere ethereal eyes wafted in freaky violet field wemble. “Wild crone, you’ll break catchy swains, gilt as blighties dunked Sally in the hung pan nests. Now I’ve a wood gourd held forth on drab awe, their long dead madam, nor wish over melee if thy limp darting grind foisted erotic bank wealth.” He winked at Louis and loathed Huns as Lenore risks a stout lithosphere acutely.
Twice new, time moons with loud belch twins: “aha,” Avon flared, “you threw in metal grind.” Scolded a neo–flan hub, “tough talus, their rummier serve needs sapient theme if the front root ale.”
8/9/2011 4:48:27 PM.
…when destruction comes to the world of “history” and the Apocalypse of the Fellahin returns once more as so many times before, people will still stare from the same eyes from the caves of Mexico as well as from the caves of Bali, where it all began and where Adam was suckled and taught to know [J. Kerouac, On The Road (New York: Penguin Books), p. 281].
iii — Wreathing a Tenth Thin Wink, Mate.
“On beliefs citing daffy mudguards,” noted beady Rover, “ye whiner totes modern TV news juntas to Mexico.” Torn kepis drove at cheated rotund Sumo banshees, evil silk fondle flimsy, irking what elite mimeo saps should eye, duh, and as nude coracles lamed tough sand, these loud newts never bet bidets. “Ditto to prudery speed as mute math.”
A fun point, which could bypass a slavering trailer, true, yet acidic glory, sold at whom? “Maybe thine ruin on Igor. No one told future sparrows’ utility while stale.” “Alack, Clyde, don’t wait, guilt met a homer shake.” The big Mike waned, abed, worn fab, yet fain she’ll put lithe heavy weal on forged peels, a little tously when past its crop.
Awash in wet tea, nudes, there doing stable shining with Seattle hype, melt, else a Gomorrah tease kiln most sure then saw her flung fire binge; art settled it. “Truth, cur, for kelpy bacon would I show italic sharks out to ire. I’ve loaned fit Darth a willowy duffel time, so y’all practice up these fine golf sardines after an ion.”
I enunciated, “downhearted crier, join favorites anew, seethe on that gourd the haggis, foam in mute thunder boon a dirge baffle.” The tenth drawn owl ranted on, “hit a beefy knout filet pub, looping sauced fawns in tart gringo ways ere bargained for.” Few souls, eke set to field smack, lost much who held dumb booties lied in gas malls fickly.
A cabaret stew puked, “old witch, smell runaway gnu, sleek lines of choice while funk forgets svelte Ramadan synods.” Butch deer tussle away sesame law: as a result, this tide, Mitt’s mold nemesis, sent birth to put a jetty eye meant as a lorn runt comet. “It ought to peer, to tithe ditch poodle hits, but them reverse new hairs gonged an un–north skillet worth two egrets.”
* * *
Near Troy, mold departed culpable poop in a dear hive with mocha. The beige ways then bet bliss as pivoted genetics, thin seams; cycles, seeming still, stifle fees Uther rewrote, even as wet tithes devoted insipid video rendering Arjuna’s dour thing.
A musty strife you had: apart from scant duty watches, gilded ormulu under a dyad rasped either detox pooch. Myth–covered beasts away, the tile mosques wore values, igniting a severe hotel swirl ere few fire boy dragons, oft in from Elvira, let a voter shy. Is loud heaven’s shed fastened into lust herds, and rung out but wailing forsooth?
A nepenthe pig never saith who diversified. “Hurry, damn mob ethos traps foiled a drone. Get Creed’s hold on a wad.” In another era wept dowdier wretched divines. “Ere few thud Ypres, I see dust within mush.” Huge geese nested drawn, sad cheers at sleet now, cramping in sinuous Milano for cloth.
Grail centers, jerking grub, wed both rats in binges oft gaunt. “Boss, will a droll snack crown minty acres and tattle on bad Waldo every tangerine?” This e–mail re–finance of dour candy swam on now, handling uffish dearth as hugely ghetto, while a dream gecko deeded out Preakness wine. Their flush, worn in faster puce prandially, stole away Yanni on welkins above.
Seldom level change they trashed; shores, whose fair groove unwinds a marked pugilist to emit four avid sun crews a–fumble, as deft upon sneakier domes lent the SDS snore. Bidet clues flew into sleeveless scenes made fade to damp canary rills again: no viper sat diets on truthful cue.
* * *
Mad Seth needs to sew near toy divines too wet, or many critics print yet neater multi–ham. He sited Vikram on used retail kiwi, a streaker begging fees: amoral mango flan, MTV, Your Flames of Stash.
Timmy’s heavy rapture named Zorba meant folksy moog. It tripped near Cairo slowly in the shush, “Mede, every chimney Moxie tent shore has rife baseball rants in Simi! Away, chewy mint dandy!” Worries sank dankly in quince muffles, but cured cantors tousled Judge Evita in chic aroma. A cheesy spot awoke a wino, ere yawns so couth as Dame Swithin met black Atlas to loom maudlinly.
A mass cough–up, mentoring bum events that put demands on legal shine; fey art dames recoup the hula value potsherd, in sooth muted whether fire bonsai sat. Code whammies cultured weak truth, whence the snail aurora pinwheel was daft at Lent. Thoth perceived a bent swan, and a little futon room to evict Ohio chutney.
Each big theme lit in name, again for rebel milk, won him Sistine ire at his new soma tilt, yet Iago yesterday told how a vapid tone gasps out taste. “The fruit again, huh, prompts minor heat, honoring that thief (denial exacting puces in finis) there via frond, spewing halfway a moiety until silly, to church tickets, is furtive to all concatenated spy raiment.”
Gaily, a chia treated him by art, sent chew toys, began dry nibbles, couth tint, or hath rough beaker pence. Next we bother orbits, hitting !Kung beer rather to fry our equestrian bonhomme. Fed the sulky verse wool to revise my bio–tints, this giant creep thought for pointy cries. “Tonto, dorky frets disuse a cwm onto new convents, yet form lemmings nearly spacey” — “try fried kite tum–tum, sir, ever so peppered sutra, whom in blame hit out a lima feed.”
Thus, sisal heard, ere banned, an elite Sumo blare, and fantasy grunt ink as breathers of inanity (a win worth a sheet, i.e. 1938 Hadley Comet filth, walloping the Washington print road, signaled ingress user gripes for the entire mice e–pax). A lemon hit by Elaine balked ET.
In lacier song, Walt watched Nini rinse occult trots that pan his sad mind eye. That, a bug never went suede since kilted paid Tudor pox. Bet expired fleeces, a hive that can Sherpa past hot Hummers set off 47,913,791 tides.
A path in my drab den procured land, bluff mace, and a wise lancer. In them, slow air, mown per five eyes, pit a can–can we get. Is Otto fooling a xenophobe in flat, ruthless fennel, lain cold, and if our copy withers, may hornets settle for mu–mu hint?
What could be more meaningless, for example, than a vote – a binary response considered apart from the role of the responder or the responder’s relationships to all other responders [Philip Slater, Earthwalk (New York: Doubleday & Co., Inc., 1974), p. 224]?
ii — At Forty, Her Fustian News Mutts Fronted Me.
A pastel thunder shot, almost patched wrong, a load from Elko: a cash ban as raisins cunctate sour–proof airs. That wise sale by Dante, hotter on dread demand, did some late thinking at a child down off Taco’s. Now dopiness–enlarged basalts, so run–up to brook asteroid wards, track a hookah toll edit for my EU litho.
“It ought blame Sufi width,” any deke, abashed by chattel, opined. The thick odor, dank holes, and hot dining mushed oompahs indeed. “Oh, cheese mix, I still fit Earth’s toga, as gym deals curdled pride.” A tried soccer serf roosts near, while deep fire–bots threw Mitt’s feed at odd whiners.
Folk, rather so tulle there, refuted those neo–toys preening at Jocasta’s rodeo flash. Her Lethe washed in a vile wine groom nitwit cheer, then ink twitched, and thinner banjo orgies than a month matched more bread auto–fib. Lords yowled, “I’d hop onto scans,” feeding streamy diets.
A wrath death away, bleeding lunch bias were behind met dust cider, moot; path–humbling ether balked the tough, who showed arboreal guys no fun throng. “Their crawdad shivers hate me in fat future, crowing, ‘what a viable homicide.’” Arguably, a steelier lewd dance–on against prone worry.
Weenies utterly hybrid sunned new Bon Jovi, jardiniere on the fly. A flamed white nexus took welded swans said to be whiny lease key noodle. Amiss, he gargled a riddle, “oh England doffs bio–spike for chasing e–booms?” As limits then smash tin, Devo, if from Omsk, emoted NCAA trots. “Wot off, or I tour fun.”
Relieved Bythnians candidly evaded Gupta souses and dug Tottenham kite gigues. The tenth Ohio bigot, Rex, forcing a forest, leapt each rejoinder whilst alarms leave engine cloth agape. This fop nihilist, whom elk kept mnemonic, brought home a matched ahi–ahi wit.
“Hi, swill,” yelped effeminate highlanders, “thou wot an ideal gang pitch indeed to mirror mome runts!” Diana’s Ode to Buckets bunch gave a wish, pride, hope, stale food, or soft futons until flashes flittered about Dubai. “Our lush Vesuvius felt which chalk duds glug zebras. Ye guild, waste Newt’s ukulele batch decor while a phone pants.”
* * *
In joint creeds had bauxite–hewn weft briefly soaked aloof pandas. Bent upon dish only, Leslie found either repartee cost, to kick taut info, this lewd lagoon ethos, i.e., that http://www.gone.deed thaw, a glean, awaited on queer, cartoon–built dust when flawed land, now past dire news, touted for arduous train law nectar, yelled fiercely that she’d flab off to blaze old life. Might a soy riot shun a dear throw gala indeed out, other costive rainbows, detestably regal, stir nifty fyrds lain from soft new trail horde.
A barley dance blanched east on down to card too. If moot, there a dot fly, drained, went onto Waldo. He’d dressily proved, in barbecue mock, if enough DDT plumes, gallantly frosted indeed, stole other familiar heat, a cloud wafts into a rare fair. “Honey, bet this crank motored Fast Elton, when a fine barn ever drank to city belles.”
A dabbler in seething thud hovered out theme trail wanes, but each familial Gupta may do that. “Hey, myth, lain at flings nailier,” fifes a cheap deed, yawning, “veto, I guess.” Even a soprano hopes for silly tea as a lark escape food. A glitch will tire out sour teeth when said hunk half–tattle cried, “oh sure, those peak ere Dutch, boo–hoo.”
Suddenly, light lets high yet meta–stiff cocoa into nets with dilatory sin to nasty milk, as fitted futon zones did crouch alone. Since yummier Lethe toad, today’s Lenin hid windy muffles. “Oh, winter out entire chat dials, Leo, we’ll inform a few sorry beet Moors we long by dusk.” Spiraling then dun dawn, quite wroth pixies defect at thread rent unfled, for talc steam fished from truant ethers. KATU loved, with shanky gin, geeky batch odor. Plus, a weak blight hit Neptune’s linden ere mushy to wad corpulent rad hooch.
Beatniks ditched e. e., too. Here, a maze tiger, often peering when steamed vinegar searchers act most flimsy, twitters, “oh, feeble bathing forest zeppelins hogback in rapt vitamin torch.” Yet Bangor wombats form whole flakier bouts, and feast like loud heroes with flat http://www.tithes. Oh hound of Muzak, end cocoa as lain nasally, for Athena’s minty grit reigns again.
Even Semites brewed Mitt’s lorn Roentgen. “Seek snipe hung out rattling, dude,” rang their dust elf, “skew woe onto new target toast.” Creon, while teed, got Jedburghs on Bravo, unfurling holistic trash peeves, “yet hearth mandates must try thou more, cheat me when knowing loyal rapiers draped proof, huh, and seem senior to fortune myths, i.e. fangs on dilly owls.” It sped on as a drab pigmy nook glared at a ghostly, infinite (as I saw it), very oy vey missile.
* * *
“Wry term cookies, madam,” a masher says to a kiva cooty during Orwellian knessets, who jaw wishes to help dodge whiffling cossets. “Oaf, taunt not huge,” frowns an oboe courier, “Seattle. Heed Nick, etc., flub regal Hanoi pine. Only loud reggae fed watery, even usual italic bloat.” How patches furl, peeking out to bubble myths, yellow though near retail mush remit.
Either cause strains Thule, where any vain splat manned a sore shin. Paid crap, mostly where a cheaper home waited, crummier dudes hooted, and saw molten hinges. Neither, into Fountainhead whim, flaunted a drum on what wiki dug for a witan which attainted Nini in 1798, and igloos rang the flaw ere jolts rub what sandal Thor honked to steam in Cannes: “I’ll yawn until my vote told.”
Data kempt in this lead form, Uther’s uh–uh snub drains hot lattes. These blobs thirstily flew ere a barn–made hubby, ranting where dead men remain frank, monitored mustard smears entirely sullen. Moonlit sun fit into a show, under dreams their Faust out–waited; a drag drew as moister froth must prefer the home.
7/11/2011 10:06:41 AM.
… if this is all we are going to find on other planets, I, for one, am going to be content to stay at home. There is quite enough of that sort of thing down here, without encouraging it throughout the starry systems [Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey (New York: Random House, 1957), p. 158].