More Crazy Than Tuesday

I was going to post a bunch of "news", but who needs it? It's all too real, too comical, too much. Better to go mad in a stream of something like consciousness, and regurgitate it up into print, no bib necessary. All of my sentences will now come with a four syllable word, it pisses off those who liked me for my good sex and gruntspeak, and makes the big brains swoon in the wordy glee lying opposite; but they all (fucking) do it. What four syllables? I don't know what you're talking about. Hey, now let me lie my razor upon your skin, not to lay open, but to cut down smooth like wheat waiting for picking up and now for the funky bread, bugs included! What could anyone ever say to prick the skin of this beast we all can't stop riding or even steer?