Welcome to the new normal, followers, failures and philanderers (who I love just the way you are). Horses in the pool, unspoken alienation and allegiance, patricide, matricide, and everything in between. It sure is a lot to keep track of, yeah? It’s time to blow this popsicle stand, so bring Maris a machine gun, and turn Warble loose, because they’re all out of bubblegum, and eat pieces of crap like these for breakfast!
Let’s ride on through the desert on a horse with two names, all my succulent sandworms of radioland. There’s always some new dysentery to...
It’s the first law of the wasteland, always keep one in the chamber for the ferryman. Things have a tendency to go Murphy out...
The desert stretches out before our gals with inifinite potential of an endless horizon, and the road most traveled (at least, hundreds of years...