They Were Fine When They Were Alone, But Uneasy When Together, Nerve-Trapped And Afraid Of Death.

It was all about the mornings. When they never knew what was going on.

'Strip the wires,' she'd say.

And they'd fall for each other again, a gravity effect.

Intimacy without ideas.

Not bad.

. . .

'Who Would Go To Dollywood?'

'Dolly would.'

'I know. But who would go there?'

'Dolly would.'

'That's what I said.'

Etc.

Htlif, Page 366.

The law spends too much time demonising ordinary people who're just trying to get on with their lives. Society's changed and the law hasn't kept pace; so it's us, the mugs, who have to enforce them, who get it all in the neck. I'm sick of it. There's enough genuine bad guys to lock up without sending some daft kids on a H.M.P. University Of Crime course for smoking weed or selling pills. You can't criminalise people for a consumer preference. Might as well jail them for preferring Cornflakes tae All Bran.

Armageddon Spam.

Subject: wheat rust
Date: Tue, 29 Apr 2008 05:27:35 -0400
From: wrenchspnr@aol.com

Just remember we are the amateur in this bio warfare game and nature is the pro.

It also looks like the "survivalists" are not as crazy as people think. Make preperations we have hard times comming soon.

The best solution is to desentralise the food supply and keep it local to help curb bio vector contamination.

The easy life is comming to an end.

Htlif, Page 357.

Don't give em Ecstasy! We don't want them dancing! Keep them dulled, staggering, and incoherent as they die! Make it glamorous. Put it on celluloid, put it on hoardings. Just keep the real thing as far away from us as possible.

. . .

In The Middle Of Parallel Train Tracks.

I sat with a girl I used to know in History Of Television.

And banged out bad pictures on road-signs.

It doesn't have to be the end.

Htlif, Page 340.

I jump out. She starts off at pace. One she's out of sight I get a taxi home and go to my bed where I see more demons forming in the swirling patterns of my artex ceiling.

Genitals : Musicians

'My penis is like Television: no matter how hard I try to shove it down people's throats, it is never appreciated.'

'My dick is like Brian Eno: enigmatic, occasionally frustrating, and more interesting in theory than in practice, but works great with other people.'

'My penis is like a Leonard Cohen song: everyone likes it better when it's covered.'

'My dick is like Rage Against The Machine: it leans quite a way to the left.'

'My junk is like Men Without Hats: pretty much only known from that video with a midget.'

'My dick is like Tom Waits: performs like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car, but goddamn does it have a dedicated cult following.'

'My vagina is Thom Yorke. It is droopy and sad to look at.'

Something Awful

. . .

Garth Ennis.

'Are you an atheist, sir?'

'Just an enormously disappointed catholic.'