My Teak Is Cracked

When Young Bim says to Old Bim his yearn for pansy whimsy, Old Bim says, "Naught! Morticia becomes your love!" If only now-knowledge were then-knowledge, I would polish teak in Seminole dance of Texas trash love roulette between pearly gates of Anna Nicole! Do you weep with me?

Astronaughty

American lady of space wants to ride the rocket ship. "I will make a blasts off. Circles circle the globe. Can I have no pounds? Yes." Love that rocket ship, that protuberant, that gong of submission of the NASTA. But weight: there are words of mystery. Did that rocket man put the blast off to some other space? Uh oh. Pop wents the measel. It makes an angry place in the small space of brains. Road trip for an nutty astronaughty? Depends!

Cured!

Not the protuberant gong of submission for the Teds Haggis on this day. Negative with that thing. A Scotlands man of godpower did not play long with the trouser tulip of another man. Uh uh. "Look--no protruberant gong in this hands! Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha."

Mind of Military Men of Myanmar

"Hey, wordjones," say the soldier of Myanmar. "Are the verbs conjugal? Ha ha ha." Suddenly, the special teeth of Biminim produce velocity. "Ha ha ha! Wordjones chiclets! My fisting of fury brings the percussion." "Ooh, chiclets!" are words around the open fist. "Are you windpiping American melodies of now?" Chuckles and bellysquirms at chiclets. "I want to squeeze the Peach," release mumbles from a voice of Biminim. "At the big Peach, I have a virtue of Myanmar to share with American eyes." "Big Peach of America?? The bloat and stinky? The parade of salty bosoms? A devil of thongs? This is not the think of Myanmar! Only the military mind of Myanmar is that beautiful braining! Only think of beautiful braining!" "My words are in justice. I percolate an artistry of ineluctable--" "Your word pastries have rancid butter!" chant the military men of Myanmar. "Bow down to our protuberance." "I fancy not the protuberance." "The protuberance of power is a gong of submission. Here is the power of flavoraid. Drink it, drink it, drink it. You cannot ride a horse!"

100 Reasons for American Love #91

Do you are thinking of the Man Man of Myanmar? Are his feet fleet? No! Nephew Nim has a package to Biminim from America for Crassmass. Will it arrive to Biminim in the Merry Month? Let me chuckles in quiet. Today arrives the parcel with postage. Time rebukes the Parcel Serves of Myanmar. In the parcel, Biminim retrieves the token of Nim. Oh, in the country of the Foundlings, a mind never wastes for working. America! Your invents are many ways to sneak on the backside of necessity. What? The dog has the sexy bottom? To the world of other dogs, that sexy bottom says, "hubble hubble"? A man of Myanmar can sleep in confidence of doggy purity with American minds minding the bottom. Doggie Thong!

Repellican Mascot

Many fronds to Biminim in the Myanmar have works of American companies. A medium-size frond, name of Sung Li Trun, is a master man of that images of familiar return. Now Trun has the work of GOOP of American. They say, "Hey, Trun. We have a nasty need for the image of that true Repellican, that mind-person of obeyance. Yeah." So Trun slaps to the brain pan the thinks. "I bust a brain cap," says Trun. "Behole: Mindles the Robutt!"

Are There Words?

There are no words.

R.I.P. J.B.

1933-2006

Table 118?

Oh! But November still goes to the wonder if ever time will bring Table 118! But to ask for the table is the knowledge that December will go to the wonder as well! But to bask in the table! To sit with the Kurtis (left) and the Davidson (write) and to squeeze that peach till the juice runs down Biminim's leg! Farewell, Donnerd Rumpskin!