This morning I woke up with this horrible headache, the complete and ludicrous memory of NOMF™ accomplishments since 1942, and an updated version of Little Peggy Marsh's anthem of blind and stupid love from 1962 called I Will Swallow Him, which inspired entremanureans at Facebook and Twitter to glom on to the herd mentality of pathetic little people everywhere to make big bucks off losers like you.
Can't you hear it?
(Du-du-doot, du-du-doot, du-du-doot.) (Du-du-du-du-du-du-doot, du-du-doot, du-du-doot.) (Du-du-du-du-du-du-doot...) It makes me wet all over, up under, up under And tears my thong asunder, asunder, asunder
Friend him, I friend him, I friend him.
And when he tweets I follow, I follow, I follow.
I will follow him.
Follow him wherever he may go.
There isn't an oil spill too deep,
A firewall so high it can keep,
Keep me away.
(Du-du-doot, du-du-doot, du-du.)
Forty five million gallons of crude in the Gulf is now the norm in the liberal media reports of of what British Petroleum and its Deepwater Horizon have spewed in the past seveon weeks, after ludicrous reporting that seemed to suggedst overtaking the U.S. record set by the Exxon Valdez what hears away. Even now the twits and faceplanters are trying to make the world look less like what is is. What it is, peple, ain't what it was. If you want to know why I don't accept your invitations, it's because I don't like you. Seriously. Get the fuck off my clouyd