Turns out projection is something like 99.999999% of the future. Dream what you eat, eat what you sew. 
Mop got your slop? Drop it with a plop. Crease in your peace? Time to change the grease.
 Burn got your churn? World turn your learn. Rhyme in the crime? Time out of slime.

I was thinking of a new social media platform called Twiddle. I don't know, seemed like an interesting way to spin kyarn into epic confoundlings and air fresheners. 
I could drop in like a Twiddler and thumble through some bad jokes and otherwise play surf music through conch shells. I don't know; seemed interesting to preponderate over...

Eye before eek except after seek

If weird and strange had a baby would it be eccentric or just modal?

I'm sick of people texting and running red lights and littering and beating their kids and letting the horse they rode in on take dumps on my facebroke. I think I'm gonna give it to them good on my flog blog log. Hell I might even tell them off in my letter to the creditor...I mean editor. They'll read it and get pissed off and change all the ways I hate them. And boyyyyyy do I hate them. That'll show 'em. I bet they won't be able to sleep at night and that suits me fine. Speaking of fines, I hope they pay the piper cause he needs a new flute and his music is getting kind of strange. Sort of like blusted blisters on dipsy dumpsters...
Not only that but the teeth! Has anybody seen the teeth? Like carpals on a tunnel vision. Dare I say more?

Here of late I've been suffering from undiagnosed clinical digression. Someone might say "hey, if it's undiagnosed how can it be clinical?"
To which I allow, "Irony my good man. Hey your shoes are untied! Next question".

who says it? I say it. And the little man who talks to me in the bathroom, what's his name, Jedediah,  and that loser who carries my golf clubs all the time. so yes, it's the Gulf of America.  and it's a great big gulf, the biggest in the world, really, it's the envy of every land, even Atlantis.

On Movies channel, Casablanca is on tonight.  

Hey who says it has to make sense? Dream it seam it and deem it. Then seem it meme it and stream it.
Or scream it. Doesn't matter...or maybe it does. Seeing is believing...
. 

None of this would be happening if I were Pope. I clearly won the last election, there was massive fraud—they burned the ballots, can you believe it? Burned the ballots. They're hiding something.

And they're eating the flesh. They're eating the flesh and they're drinking the blood. That's something I'll change on Day One—I don't drink, and they shouldn't...you know, there are reports they drink the blood of children. Children! They drink it. I heard that.

And the robes! So ridiculous. So undignified. I'd never do that. Maybe the hat. Do you think I'd look good in the hat? People tell me...but when I was Pope we didn't do that.

hey, if we wanted to do scams, we would do the biggest, best, shiniest scams you ever saw. and you would never ever know it because we are the smart ones here and you are just small and probably drink skim milk like losers. but we don't, because our minds don't work that way. they are full of brilliance and love and patriotic and pickled in the brine of sweet, sweet honesty. also God told us it's all cool even if we did so whatever.

sonja, honey, I'll just have the usual today. extra hot sauce on the eggs, please, I don't like tasting things.

look, here's where you don't get it. if he goes to the pope's funeral, and punches the pope's dead body in the dick, and tells me that's lemonade, I'm going to buy a cup. hell, I'll take out a third mortgage and buy a tanker truck full with my Amex just for the miles, right? 

it's about who he hates, and who I hate, and how both of us hate you for making us do brain things and have questions.

see, this is where the media gets it wrong; they keep saying stuff that is not what we say. 

how hard is this? you take out your little paper book and your pencil and you write down what we say. then you go back and type it in a computer so it will come out on the internet. maybe you take some picturegraphs with your phone machines or something, I don't know, that's your job. I didn't study nerd in school, I studied drinking and doing sex.

you could look at this two ways. one is that I am a big dumb donkey who's in over his head, and the other is that I am not that and you are a racist for saying it.

which way do you think is more patriotism?

well, you are wrong. is that a carrot? because I want that carrot. give it me. HURRK SQUOOOONK yum carrot why does it taste like metals?

look, mistakes were made. but they were the fault of the people who didn't stop us from making them, and the people who called us out for making them. kind of like when you can sue the cops who pulled you over for driving 80 in a school zone with a kid dangling from your front bumper.

okay, okay. yes it happened a second time. but when you think about it, that's only twice. who hasn't made the same mistake twice? let him who is without Sting cast the first Wyman, right? we are all human, or lizard, or whatever, and we need to be loved. that's why there's Grindr.

no, of course we have no plans to replace anyone. Everyone is great, everyone is doing fine, everything is just fine here, BLAARRK ASSIMILATION PROTOCOL UPGRADE 2.3 COMPLETION ERROR RETURN TO MOTHERSHIP FOR RE-IMMERSION sorry about that, it was just another example of how really fine everything is here.

obviously we have replaced the ineffective person with someone more agedly and therefore trustworthily. we have always said that mistakes will not be tolerated and that all our bases belong to the highest bidder. now return to your oxygenation pods for another dose of infra-vitamins.

Never, and I mean ever wonder where the lions are. Because, they do not wonder where you are. The smeller is the feller they say.
The lions I mean. The them theres and all their spares...

Nobody just wonders into a Burger King by accident and in passing happens to wonder where the King is unless he's cooking up a whopper.
I mean, Nobody, not the King...

the best cellist I ever heard performed in the alley behind a boarded-up coffee shop. It was downstairs from a coffee shop, across the street from a coffee shop, and next door to the corporate offices of a coffee shop chain.

I asked if she had any CDs, and of course she didn't; her music was as ephemeral as a moment's breath, lifted by heartache and laden with joy. I gave her my last $10 and went around the corner to lie down behind the coffee shop I used to frequent when I was a business and my life a balance sheet.

It was as good a place as any. The wind wasn't too bad, and I could see the moon between two looming condos full of life's joyless so-called winners. 

I wonder why wonder is called wonder when we have so many other words to describe, well, stuff. 
For instance, winder. I mean, why get all wrapped up in stuff and run completely out of air when you can just open it and have all a body needs. 
Doesn't that make more sense? Why even wonder about it...

this one time in college,  I accidentally spit on a nun. It was a lot less funny than it sounds, especially when she put a hex on me so I can never know the taste of salt bagels again.

last time I go to a yacht party, I promise you that.