Why do some people feel compelled to recite the longest chapter of their daily autobiography on the phone answering machine. Here's an idea; why dontcha just say "Hey this is person you know, I have stuff to tell ya, give me a call ( phone number if necessary )." I don't feel like playing hot topic journalist and furiously scribbling the tome of information that you are erratically spewing on my machine. What I want to know is; who you are and where I can reach you. Feels like they are auditioning for a call back. Um, I know you haven't called me back from the seven past messages I left, but if I list in detail the reasons you should, on your answering machine, I'm positive it'll entice you to call me. Run-on electronically distorted bullshit.

Enough to make a wake and bake uncomfortable. Me smash machine.

Everyone should learn how to roll a decent bone. Its a serious skill to make a joint of impressive nature. I take extreme pride with the aplomb in which I roll delicatable, evenly spread, draws smoke well, all set up with a filter and shit, joints. Hit a pose and show off my break dancning roll style. Well honored among many tribes and communities. I'm gonna start puttin it on my resume. Master spliff maker first class. Chuckle all ya want snuffy, be mumbling scoffs out the side of ya neck when I'm hired on as executive smoke specialist.

Does it all have to make sense? Really it do? Who gives three mishapen testes if it all makes sense? Honestly, fuck sense. I like random shit. Free fallin. The spindly twisting spiral. Holding on to a floater, circular motion downwards. I don't care if it makes sense. Coast on the random shit. I like random shit.

Example of some random shit that dost spill from yours truly's cranium:

Good fresh corn, much sweetness here. Dipplestick wankily doo. Sil be slap me, I'm all over it. Forgot knots. Out of my control, control, control. Bee bop sip the poo. Ya hozier - the best flavor in the pan. Mackistan - my residence and shillz. Be pills. Oh please be pills, break the seal, it's gotta be pills. Who gives a fuckwit nutchomp if someone can decifer this. Its my own hieroglyphs - read it. Do it smithy read it. Chauncy will read anything. Swipe, S.W.A.T and squat. Weigh the balls, check the scrotum balance.

See, was that so painful that it needed to make sense. Actually that might have caused some of you brain pain. Good! Melt that useless gray matter out ya head, through your ear canals. Feel the wood burning and the gerbil running along his wheel. I thumpa you head. It make melon sound.