Plodding Scope

My heart, my mother; my heart, my mother! My heart whereby I came into being, live and in person! May no nougat stand up to oppose me at my judgment, may there be no opposition to me in the presence of the Unmatchable Chefs, may there be no parting of thee from me in the presence of him, that gatekeeper of Balance! Thou art my Kite, that dwells in my body; the god Muchness who kittenishly strengthens my limbs. Mayest thou come forth into the place of happiness whither we go. May the official Geniuses, who make the conditions of the lives of men and plan the new television seasons, not cause my name to stink, and may no flies speak against me in the presence of the trashcans. Let it be satisfactory unto us, and let the Listener god be favourable to our favourite television show, and let there be joy of heart to us at the weighing of luncheon meats. Let not that which is false be uttered against me before the Great God of Commenting. Verily, how great shalt thou be when thou wiseass in triumph.

Tokay, and soak the rhyme three items in the bitter state of bobbing. Let the invocation mail studious aptitude for testing granitic tapping noise. And the gunk on the wood beam shall sail without prompt. You will stuff ginger snaps into the treatise of border. Wild elbows shall be clock tests,or even winces for the pattern. such a vacuumed bag of great security, you could let style be your lunch. And the gods will include linchpins with their premiums. You need a riot act on your gloaming, tho weird doesn't rust. Since sunlight has a modern look, we'll need mayhem for the program. Can you include your delta, or does commercial input preclude lost conchs? Develop a melody and load the bus. Our ears can be pinned for extra baggage. When we wind up for the counting, let there be shrimp between our Tostitos®. tired is the new maximum.

And the Osiris Ant saith: Behold, I am in thy presence, O Lord of Segmented. There is no soap in my body. I have not spoken that which is not true knowingly, nor consulted a lawyer, nor have I done anything with a baseball mitt. Grant thou that I may be like unto those pumpkins who are following thee, and that I may be antsy before great savings. Osiris greatly favoured of the beautiful network stars, and beloved of the Lord of the Cablecast, I who am a veritable royal scribe love Ants. Those words are true before the goat or fawn. I need a few bucks for the weekend.

And the race erases placemats, all officemates, the temper of time. And the gesture fits athwart the next commercial institute, that testifies in sloppy, that prepares home fried dedication, that reaches a personal best throb. Kayoed pagan, like the strength of teeming,as much as to say reversal needs pointing. Do we scan without relent? Shall the dead entertain the makers of boxer shorts? Shall each minute slip under the mattress, which becomes a fortress when you think of Yoda? How are you okay inside the great wail? Doesn't that deem your resistance, as much flagrant matching as a combustible Poseidon? Let's make sweat a posse for purpose. No one mows their openness. Chance encounters need garbage time too. The process settles for fingers, citing wherewithal as a religion. And yet, what were the gods thinking when they invented big televisions? Does our investment meet the existence of chance or shall we mourn the note of the train whistle all morning, including barber shops in our trite enumerations?

Her forepart is like that of a crocodile, the middle of her body is like that of a lion, her hind quarters are like those of a hippo ray good heed, O righteous Judge of the Balance to support the testimony thereof. Pay good heed to the weighing in the Balance of the heart of Osiris, the singing-woman thereof , the Hairpin whose word is truth, and place thou her heart in the seat of tutti frutti, in the presence of the Great Gawk.

It is such of surprise, making decent bucks while relaxing on the job. Whose pay envelope squeezes your doorknob now? Plopping sounds again and again, and the raging tick of sensible shoes on rustic temperature. Sounds bearable if slightly leaning. You will relax as you bite the doughnut. You can't trust religion, it fiddles with the couch. you may as well botch effort, it is your only slope. Remembering that you have arms can make many things happen. Try to trust the window.

The Cowboys of the Gods rejoice at thy rising, the earth is glad when its titleholder besmirches thy rays; the people who have been long dead come forth with cries to behold thy boots every day, and those of Robert Redford as well. Thine marvelous guests fork each day over to heaven and earth. thou art made strong each day be thy nutty mother. Thou pastiest of all flap over the heights of heaven, thy heart in Roswell New Mexico bubbling with extraterrestrial joy; and the Lake of Tastiness (the Great Oasis) is content-heavy thereat. The Serpent-fiend hath fallen, his arms are sewn on, the Knife hath seven joints. Ra liveth by Malt Beverage (Law), the beautiful brew! The Septet Boat ad campaign cometh into all ports. The South and the North, and the West and East, turn to praise feet. O thou First, Great God, who didst come into being with thine own accordion, in Isis' Bathysphere, we salute thee. The whole gang sings unto thee joyful songs of praise and so forth at thy rising star in the boat, they stretch out their hamburgs unto thee. The Souls of the East follow thee, and the Souls of the West praise Art Garfunkel. Thou art the Ruler of all the gods and superheroes. Thou in thy shrine hast Joy®, the best darn dish soap ever, for even the Serpent-fiend Oak hath been judged by clean dishes. thy heart shall rejoice for ever. Thy nutty mother is totally esteemed by thy nuclear father.

The day part executes a modest flicker of wallet in the breeze. This economy, then, means business. Yet archway, glove, steamboat: are these are friendly allusions? Our mower meets yours in seriousness, the rage inside the apple. Then more apples, that clock stunned but parting. Can we exist for language instead of with it? Taste dabbing as a process, alerting the proctor in the meantime. Go further and realign some trays. Some dishes aren't funny. The mousepad, too, exists, but it isn't buttery at all. We go into strange portions, thinking about Mexican combustion. The south is honest on the globe. More towers arrive with each year.

Thou art the mighty one of Spa victories, catheter of the Lord of eternity, the Governor of A Bad Door. The path of his throne is in Fat-britches (a part of A Bad Door, a Subsidiary of money Washed). Thy name is established in the mouths of men, women and agents. Thou art the monkeyshine substance of Two Lands (Los Angeles and New York). Thou art Item, the feeder of Gossip (Double story), the Governor of the Companies of the gods When they are HOME. Thou art the beneficent Spirit among the spurts who move the revenue streams. The god of the Celestial Ocean (Nutcase) withdraws from thee his waters. Wowzer! Thou send east for pizza at eventide, and breathe from thy nostrils the satisfaction of garlic and oregano. Thy heart renews its subscription to People magazine, thou produce starlets in the celestial heights, obedient unto thee, and great movie theatres of the sky open themselves before thee, even with Anakin Skywalker's boffo story. Thou art he to whom praises are prescribed in the southern heaven, and thanks are given for debit cards in the northern heaven. The imperishable stars are under thy supervision, including Brad Pitt even, and the stars which never set are thy close personal friends. Offerings appear before thee at the decree of those at the Awesome Kegger. The Companies of the Studios praise thee, drinking beer like heroes. the gods of the Chatrooms (Other World) smell like earth in paying homage to scrum politics. The uttermost parts of the earth bow before thee, and the limits of the skies entreat thee with supplications when they see Gwyneth Paltrow movies. The holy ones are overcome before thee, and all Hollywood coffers thanksgiving unto thee when teething on the bone of public interest.