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NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Well, goooooooood mawnin', cats and kittens and Caitlin Brie!

Welcome to another episode of "It's In Your Head, Baby, It's In Your Head. Roses Are Red, Baby, Let's Go To Bed. Too High, Bye Bye. Too High, Bye Bye," with our host, Dink "The Shrink" Pinklemeyer!

(Roar of approval from the crowd. Or maybe it's a roar of disapproval. Maybe they don't like the show. Maybe they hate me and everything I stand for. Maybe, sniff, maybe they're just roaring to show that they all think they're lions. Maybe the big yellow and pink sign that says "Roar" just lit up. We'll just move on, shall we?)

(Yes. Lets.)

Friends, Romans, countrymen, Russians, lend me your spleens, I've got a nine o'clock lunch meeting and I want to be prepared. The evil that men do lives on, the good is sent off to Botswana and used as a coat rack. So let it be with Lennon. Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, there will be a lollipop, let it be. The noble Krueger hath said that Lennon was a Beatle. If it were so, it were a beautiful thing, and greivously hath Lennon answered for it. Here I stand, with NIxon and the rest, for Nixon is an honorable man, so are they all, all honorable men, come I to speak at Lennon's grave.

Prickly pickly prickly pick, I am incredibly totally slick. Prickly pickly prickly pock, I'm even a-wearing a-more than one sock.

I'm kind of in one of "those" moods again. Or maybe it's one of THOSE moods, it's hard to say.

I would have made a good Ofanite.

In Nomine. I will be running an In Nomine game in the future, though perhaps not the near future per se. I've had a couple of evil ideas, all I need is about 257 more and I'll be prepared. Gooberfinkle.

TETSUO! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM* KENAIDA! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM* TETSUO! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM* KENAIDA! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM* TETSUO! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM* KENAIDA! *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM*

That, for those of you not aware, was a scene from Akira, an interesting piece of work.

The movie is fairly depressing, but thinking of that one scene always brings a smile to my face.

Like the Ed Sullivan scetch.

Hold on one second.

I meant:

Like the Ed Sullivan sketch.

There we are.

Who knows for whom the Alloni tolls? Alloni has no bleedin' clue. I mean, the money could go anywhere. Maybe it goes into Wilson's private drug, sex, and tracheotomy fund. Maybe it gets packaged and sent off to Third World countries as toilet paper. Maybe it just is sitting in a warehouse somewhere next to the Holy Grail, Jimmy Hoffa, and the Ark of the Covenant.

Puritans. What's the point?

I seem to have come to a stop. I may send more rabid nonsense later, if the mood strikes me.