Rumour has it that Michael Bolton penned "How Am I Supposed to Kib Without You?" after Gelnn's first stint in rehab.
'when a man loves the kibble' by otis reding!!
just inn case you missed it dutch..from yeste3rday, you'll appreciate it re bedrock revamp
i say lets breathe new life into the old girl and fucking well pimp her out for all shes worth, starting with a bedrock fertility dance around the maypole thus:
im sure in an act of contrition , diggers himself will lead us in pagan song, like the radge in the pink shirt in the video clip...
in this way , i am sure, the seed of our benign loins will prove to be fruitful in the bellys of our barren women, like a sapling in spring. and lo , a new bedrock village of the damned is born.
producing hybrid super beings with large heads and small mouths and eyes, as they will use telekinesis to communicate, or something like that.
no doubt we'll be sent to toil in the harsh lithium mines of europa by our mentally superioir offspring/overlords or be made to joust in an alien ampitheatre for there amusement,with demonic organic weapons made from their hives and our women enslaved to languish in their joy divisions .
even though they havent got any cocks.
now i think about it, it very well may be that they will have some form of antanna which will make a clicking and whiring sound when aroused.
moreover, their pineal frontal lobe may be devloped to such an extent , that when resonated at 25,000 rpm, they can see entitys in the third dimension, seeing things that no man should see.
sending them quite mad. this should enable us to form a coup d' etat of some kind , and god willing, return to earth to live in 'sweet harmony'(aka the beloved).
yes, upon reflection i think that would be the wisest course of events.
'lets come together, right now, oh yeah, in sweet har-mo-ney'
the bedrock fertility dance.
on the woods there grew a tree
And a fine fine tree was he
And on that tree there was a limb
And on that limb there was a branch
And on that branch there was a nest
And in that nest there was an egg
And in that egg there was a bird
And from that bird a feather came
And of that feather was
And on that bed there was a girl
And on that girl there was a man
And from that man there was a seed
And from that seed there was a boy
And from that boy there was a man
And for that man there was a grave
From that grave there grew
A 'bedrock tree '
Last edited by EDWARDTHECONFESSOR (Friday Jul 2014 04:41:08)
There's something wrong with me chemically Something wrong with me inherently,The wrong MIX In the wrong genes, I reached the wrong ends By the wrong means, It was the wrong plan In the wrong hands,The wrong theory for the wrong man,The wrong eyes On the wrong prize,
The wrong questions with the wrong replies. Wrong.