bright and shiny.

duders,
the weak-sauce is calling to me.
and i can't ignore it, either.
it's interfering with my mentals, y'all.
it's never easy to knowingly wade in,
but once in a while,
the hermit has to slide down off of the mountaintop.
uh-huh.
the doo-doo buttery nutmeg nancypants
of the most watered-down waterbaby world
is lettin' a real ninja know he's got to make some
hard-style action-hero moves.
it's happening.
a blitzkreig lightning-strike surgical insurgency.
connecticut.
tuesday.
it's on.
awwwwwww, man.
there will be blood.
blood relatives, i mean.
be easy.
there are times in a man's life, neighbors.
these kinds of times.
hard times, even.
winter's almost here,
and the hectic, harrowing hardwood heaping
is being put on hold.
it's the harvest season-
in more ways than just the reaping, ninjas.
and little harvest isn't so little anymore.
that's no joke, either.
so the real question is:
who wants to eat pizza?
i'm gonna.
into every thunderous constitution-draining
assault on the constitution state,
a slice or eleven of pepe's pizza needs to bring the noise.
y'know,
to keep up my energy for the good fight an' that.
there you have it.
pizza, my peoples, and the piss-poor populace
of one of the world's worst realms.
connecticut.
connect?
i cut.
it's the opposite, kids.
severing the sh!t-salad from the sweetness.
when life hands you connecticut,
make doo-doo butter?
i dunno.
it's happening;
that much i can assure you;
never quiet, never soft.....