De Houellebecq - i can still spell his name without looking him up....
where it will still likely say " Miss Oh Jenny my my put the kettle on and make us dinner..."
I do not call lamenting a tad exasperated at the utter cultish cant and vanity...
he beganeth to expose in Island or was it Atomised....
when on her deathbed he stuck his tongue out and... just left to die alone his fake 'hippy' vapid mother to sujck her own blood to death in her last dull rattle... ...
Miss Oh Jenny
i call it challenging women - we needed to be chief mother hen actually doin' their job cluckin for good... to be as good as the few i have gathered over the years, ARE
my tribe even if loose....
of finest warriors
Buddy Boudiccas
whom know every word is
true
And so at last it can, begin.
when....
even when fake....
tomorrow...
I know what real 'medicine' ...IS
