stupid is

is it trickin if you got it?
is it chicken if you bought it?
are we human or are we dancers?

cursed harvest from unbridled coupling of colloquialism and philosophy, dumb questions of intended depth are killing me right now. somebody tell colloquialism to stop fucking the philos like an irish-catholic bunny rabbit 'cause dopestyle is no longer hiring.

society tore down a few churches to give foster cows some greener pastures. they seemed happier. heavy handed the fell heavenly counterattack. you remember those manchester united teams in the late 90s and early millenium where paul scholes was whipping long passes like twas nobody's bees wax and ryan giggs was a constant threat to losinge a size 5 down the throat of your whole bloody defense? this counterattack has got to be at least..3 times that size. our generation got bird flu, hiv and a groundswell of fucking part time platos. go kidnap and maim somebody else's idea every time strange fucking things are afoot at the circle k.

read a book. expect that a kidder be kidded. ask for a liver transplant at an indian reservation. understand that you're too drunk to drive and slide the keys to ted kennedy, girlfriend. give the lovechild of tacoma rapolantern jay barz and the bfg any semblance of administrative control over your cub scout troop's explicitly unhiphop pursuit of the hip hop badge.

^ that's an anorexically abridged list of things to do before you tune in for insight on relationship etiquette ferried between the ornate dentistry of some half nekkid poet by gobs of torrential lugey. arguing the semantics of "tricking" is like arguing the semantics of any other word.

why do you care less about your own personal expenditure as it relates to your puss plunder than of what word is used to describe and narrate said expenditure in the minority lingo phone tree? goo goo gah gah, benny button. your whole outlook is ass backwards.

this whole blog is a charming collection of introductory paragraphs. fragments are the future, phlegmingway.