a reasonably constabulary dissection of the resonating nature of malcontent in the subcultures of apparent merovingian descendant observers (or TITS UP THE DUTCH, I(')M ON FIRE)

and a related note, i hope i have not accidentally stolen the main theme of this (which is alterd ever so for each repartition (or(or)).) i feaer i have, but i cannot remember where ive stolen it from. its an old song anyhows. fun to boot.

i think im done.

edit. go on, tell me, who voted 0 for no apparent reason again. tell me. it doesn't make much sense why people do that for no good reason.