THIS IS A MAGAZINE ABOUT hate. READ IT.
I'm still not supposed to talk about that. The lawyer told me not to.
I thought this tiger was just sleeping but the zookeeper told me it was dead. I thought that was pretty funny. I laughed so hard, I choked on my corndog and had to have an artificial lung implanted to repair the monster of the southwestern hair transfer. It was mostly on Tuesday anyway. I am man. I am yak. I am half-yak. Hear me roar. RARRRR!
THIS IS A MAGAZINE ABOUT feet. READ IT.
This is the cartoon that plays in my head whenever I get a really high fever. There is a bowling ball and someone pulls a hair out of their head and it all crashes loud. Something is evil about that bowling alley.
"Is that my lung again?"
"Is it yours?"
"Kids, this is a library, if you want to talk, maybe you should go the vulgar void."