Quoquam, Déan rud ar bith. Go anywhere, do anything. Quoquam, Déan rud ar bith.

Top onsa! Top offsa! Doors onsa! Doors offsa! Ho ho ho!

Invariably the individual who finds themselves in a metallic cavern with leatherette upholstery finds themselves waving to and fro with the living passengers of variant Jeep caverns this way and that they road-off and road-on surpassing their expectations this is a task that is takelightly with reasonable plans of payment but the challenge of life on the offroad is but a tribute to what is possible behind the mast of a machine of greatest force dear the prosperity of escapades in the unknown mostdoing and leastdoing on a day like today or tomorrow steer with freedom and unionhood with those comrades who also operate a Jeep for keeps peace.

Found fields find fealty freedom. Remember romps remember risks rewarded. Whatever crusade one requires one finds in Jeephood.

Venture with us, bright one, rugged one, Mudder Hubcap, turning and burning. Venture with us, bright one, rugged one, Mudder Hubcap, turning and burning. Venture with us, bright one, rugged one, Mudder Hubcap, turning and burning.

Quoquam, Déan rud ar bith.

- - -

Blue Apron

Blue by box and blue spotted the apron, dinner bell ringeth.

Ringthhn dinnggthh slurpnn.

Ingredients, quick pickle onions, shreddy cabbage.

Flesh. Listen! I feel so starved P.S. So desperately cooking and busy.

Fresh! And bagged and sliced proportion.

A mise en place at your place.

Phew, Blue Apron is on the.

Exquisite contrast she said, look at the scallion in the tall silk.

Family smells.

Sizzle, sizzle! Who’s in the kitchenislandstool?

Slap, no sample. Harsh word. But look: supper sups soon. Partner harrumphs in avidity.

Wait while I sear. Hee hee. While I hear you hee.

Gather the men gather the crowd it’s them has the yum times, sadly then she said.

When all agog we plate;

O wept! Are supps this easy always?

Her wet lips tittered:

It’s Blue Apron with the fine times, Blue Apron.

Grmm. Tssa. Scrantt.



- - -


Are the bodies in need manically or unmanically woebegone?
Yes. Or no. Either way Cymbalta will assist.

Will Cymbalta grant access to days of sunshafts and colors and nights of dancing and kindred?
Yes. Or no. Either way Cymbalta grants dreams.

What are the side effects that may proliferate from the ingestment of Cymbalta?
Constipation, flooded pants, clear head, headhammering, depression, joy, upper university graduation, brain-fry, episodic rage spasms, elation to such intensity that it dallies with religious rapture, dry claws, dry oculus, halitosis, sweaty musicianship (baroque), a fluttering in your chest — love — perchance dreams, low sodium.

How much compensation is required for the nowpurchase of this proposed wonderdrug?
According to the PharmaBig, pricing is based on however much the clientele is willing to pay in accordance with the theorem: $*X=Price where “$” relates to the costs of production multiplied by the variable “X” which becomes an individual’s desperation.

Where does one volunteer themselves for the treatment of Cymbalta?
Psychiatrist wizards happily pen prescriptive tickets for Cymbaltan treatments when the patient is deemed a suitable sacrifice to the Pharmatic Gods.

- - -


(Faceless king MASTER CHIEF soaring on wings of TIG NOTARO alights atop an aggregate fruit under the surf, to become America’s Next Drag Superstar, to seek out new toons and 1883 spin-offs, to boldly space-go where no armored super mutant has trod before.)

SPONGEBOB: (annoying.) With your alien fabrications I can surely manufacture a novel pinnacle of Patty Krabby!!!!!

(MASTER CHIEF brandishes his laser musket; blood burns in his visor.)

MASTER CHIEF: Nay, grunt, your time has reached its ending—there is no Paramountain large enough to house our collective largess.

(MASTER CHIEF vaporizes SPONGEBOB and flees the scene. A vigil is held. In attendance is RuPAUL CHARLES, SAM ELLIOTT— mustachioed and flanked by twelve powerful mounts—and CAPTAIN PICARD (the new old one).)

TIG NOTARO: (spitting.) Harmonia, harmonia opus est.

PICARD: (strong baritenor.)

Here lay the ’Bob,
Much more than a glob,
Talent surpassing greatness,
Never possessed of lateness.

SAM ELLIOTT: The killing has only begun. Mount up and yar-harrrguk!

RuPAUL: (gesturing powerfully to onlookers, afeard.) We’ve overslayed our stay. The funding begins at $4.99 for a thirty-day time, ration us all an Amen.