Fucking elections? What fucking fucking elections? I have no clue what you're blabbering about. And I am definitely not still prostrate and weepy with mortal terror. It's allergies. Shut up.
John Popper, who is not George fucking Bush, unexpectedly unleashed his infamous harmonica on a shocked and redundantly surprised crowd during a live performance of a band called Marmalade at a place called ToST in Fremont. It's reported that Mr. Popper leaped like a manly ballerina from the crowd to the stage in a fit of unexpected enthusiasm after apparently enjoying Marmalade's sweet and fruity musical endeavors rather excessively. There were no survivors.
Also, several million eyewitnesses spotted Minnie Driver meandering Britishly hither and thither about the greater Broadway Avenue and East John area. Minnie was reportedly in the company of some fag. (And you know why fags can always travel on short notice? Exactly. All their shit's packed.) Local celebritologists speculate that the motivation behind Minnie and her little shit-packer's Broadway Avenue adventure are sure to remain quite mysterious.
The plot thickens. And George Bush didn't steal the elections again, you know. Nope. No massive voter fraud at all. Just allergies.
Next we visit a magical land called Sandpoint, where a hot fuckstick called Danny Roberts keeps getting seen and seen and seen. "He visits a Sandpoint bakery and tells us that he is going to start working for a real estate place a few doors down," reports a person. "The girls in the bakery went absolutely giddy, chirping about that he was sooooooooooo cute," we are also told. Mr. Roberts was unable to comment on his alleged soooooo cuteness, as I'm still sitting on his face.
I certainly hope those tittering bakery girls are aware that Danny can travel on really, really short notice? Yes? Stellar.
Elsewhile, elsewhere: Courtney Love, who is batshit, is also attempting to scour her muddy, toxic self with an aggressive 21-day purgative fast of nothing but maple syrup, lemon juice, and cayenne pepper. The most obvious questions: Can Courtney still feel her scorched rectum burning after swallowing a few recreational dump trucks of Oxy? And what's her personal connection to the freshest outbreak of mad cow disease? Sadly, Courtney was unable to answer, as Danny Roberts was sitting on my face.
Lastly: Voter fraud? Corruption? CIA-orchestrated coup? Well. Don't look here: www.blackboxvoting.com; or here: www.democraticunderground.com, because I have no clue what you're talking about. Thank goodness all my shit's allegedly packed. Shut up.
