Fully functional sexual hallucinatory pleasure biosickness between satin
sheets for up to 7 hours at a time, in true SubG tradition, with
questionable upbringing, the Prince of Peace, the newly crowned Prince
of the Perpetual Thorn, the Highest of the Low, the Freshest of the
Blow, welcomes those from the Other Planeness, the mockers of True
Justice, the Lyndon LaRouche, fully infected Virginian biopleasure
units, as we speak, unwitting dupes to the conspiratory forces withing
their own corporate ranks -- Think Connie, think connie, think the
pleasure of the pipe!! Yay, thee that shalt not wander not shall become
the pleasure unit, bound to secrecy from the Bavarian Illuminati, for
thine shalt mistake thine pipe for the True Pipe, the pipe that floweth
over with the froth from the 'Frop, thine true Non-Drug. Those have
tasted of the pipe, and have become entranced with the Teachings, but
have negated the True Experience of the the Dobbshead. When one fully
wreckons with the True Dobbshead, once becomes a True Surfer of the Luck
Plane, not withstanding demonic posession, aka Lower Occult forces, one
may rise above the programmed framehood of the Manhattan lot, and strive
for the vestibule of the hermaphrodite, the living pleasure of Dobbs,
the corn in the ``pop,'' the ying in the yang, the ding in the paint on
the ``hot rod'' of Life, the Porsche of dogmatism, the Pope's plea, the
congenital reprocussion, the burning sensation, the orgasmic
progression, the ones with nothing to lose so why not call them
Assholes, the creatures of Cretian bloom, the Tribe of the Lost Yeti,
the Programmers of Atlantis, the Truest of the Turning Worlds, the
conspirators of the network of the associates of enlightenment, the
still center, the Progression of the 2015, the Weak of the Womb, the
treatment of the boob, the Consciousness Flyswatter, the harbringer of
Wet Enlightenment, the Buddha's Bath, the Wet Weenie, the Docile
Wetting, the Cutting of the Flesh, in Tune with the Turning Worlds, and
with the highest of the high, the one who has yet to present herself,
the bait of the cosmic lips, the drinker of the comic hips, the 500
calorie capitalist overtaker, scorn to the fast before the Storm, the
Corpus Cristi Delecti, the cassette unit used in the utmost fashion by
the Lowest of the Low, the Zen Sweatshirts presented unto us, as those
the receiveth thus, the pleasure of the equinox, the third trimester,
the Wang of the Tang, the Wank in the Bank, the bidirectional
congenital, Setauket Seven, the Phlegm of the Cocktail, the bringer of
the Luminous Strand #665, the Riders of the Cosmic Storm, the movers not
the shakers, the ``barely hanging on survivors of the `guy','' that Dupe
of Dope, the Freedom Fighter of the Lost Electronic Tribe, the kitten in
the cat's pajamas, the rebounder of the Ludicrous Whine, the Voice of
Enlightenment, for tax reasons, a court battle that with cometh to the
Equine, the Brine of the Drain, the Go-Go Nation, the Sexual Healing of
the Multiple-Orasmic Buddha, the Clitoral Critter, the 2000-plus
re-whine of the Non-Enlightened, sitting with the Entities at the
``Terminal.'' One knows of the Drugs but also does not know of ``Bob's''
PILs, can thoust converve ye??? One knows of the sex, but does one know
the the continued pleasure??? The maximal convergence of the highest of
units, the Trader of Orgasms, the crier, the Pleaser, the BUTTON, the
Pleasure Push, the Biz Baz, the Glutton Mu8)ton, the Xerox Wet Sox, the
Boston Baked Bean, the Pheonix Phantom, the pulse of the plebes, I
repeat again that Connie is the symbol within the within, the 1970 disco
dare, the Coke Crush in NM, the Bush in the Presidency, the Wack in the
Pack, the Mutton Button, the Dream Machine, for religious groups
non-accepted, the Virginian Coastline Pure, fer shure, as thou welcometh
-- the Oyster Shuckin' Jesus redeameth.
doug e. fresh
P.S. I return via Corpus Cristi to Los Angeles next Friday, in
accoradance with all that is holy, even though it is not spelled right.
