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...this brilliant fucking shit doesn't write itself, you know.
posted by Dark Angel at 4:18 PM
Monday, June 19, 2006
About Me
- Name: Dark Angel
Heathen, Savage, Gentleman, Barbarian...basically just your average, well-read Philistine.
Previous Posts
- Only Her CrossDresser Knows for Sure...
- ...so, three nuns walk into a bar...
- A Keen Grasp of the Oblivious
- The First Maw of Lotion
- A Most Charming Eventuality!
- My Scummy Valentine
- ...ehjookated whore says...?
- Is that guy still around?
- Syphilitic Whores
- Pestilence!
1 Comments:
I know for a fact that Anne Rice novels don't write themselves. She sold her soul to Thiamaz the Lesser in exchange for the ability to crank that purple prose of hers out, and now she uses it to write about Jesus--no, not the guy who mows my lawn, the other one, the one who may or may not have actually existed but nevertheless is now the object of the Monotheistic Gestapo's adoration and sexual arousal? Yeah, him. Fuckedy fuck fuck! Thiamaz is not amused, believe you me!
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