How Would You Like Your Smoke & Mirrors Today?

DISCLAIMER:
In no way would I ever take a stab at anybody that is sincerely worshiping - in whatever religion they choose, and however they choose.  I will, however, occasionally pick up a stick and poke somebody who disrupts a church or any other service, and their sole reason for do so is purely to gain attention, which has nothing to do with worshiping - and nothing to do with religion, as far as that goes.

"RePUKE the DEEEEEE-VVVVV-IIIII-LLLLL !!!!"

Those kitties look EXACTLY like the two 20-year old cats we had until 3 years ago (they both died within a month of each other).

Further proof that you only THOUGHT you had Chiari malformation. Actually, your diagnosis is much easier than that.

You simply had an old war would from having your head snapped back like a damned PEZ dispenser for so many years!

Now, I am going to be forced to put on my hand-made wooden clogs from The Netherlands and re-enact a V.D. original.

I'll never forget that volatile, half-cocked, but fully crazed woman.

We always knew when a fit was brewing (an unsuspecting visitor walked into the church and sat on the back pew.)

Then....oh, then..... when the moment was 'right' for her, we would always hear that low bass-filled suction "Swoosh" as her butt left the pew - ready to begin the 'First Act'. That sound is all-too familiar, and it reminds me of the sound you hear when you are watching a fireworks show, and a large shell has just left the barge, but not yet exploded.

Phase II begins when the first clod-hopper heel hit that hollow wooden floor with a familiar, loud, "POP!" (like the large fireworks shell's explosion after it reaches the apex of it's flight into the Heavens.)

The stage is set for the Main Act: In a flurry, the heels predictably explode into a rapid succession of fire-cracker pops, and the entire carcass gets into the act:

The head starts going from side to side - in a dramatic attempt to shake down the intentionally loosely styled hair, arm and hands are twisting over her head, as if she is frantically 'dialing Tokyo' on a giant, imaginary radio just out of reach over her head, and her boobs take on an independent life of their own, eventually picking up the pace to be magically synchronized with the large, voluptuous pounding hips!

To quote "Shelangela" from RuPaul's Drag Race (on the LOGO channel),

"HALL-LAY-LOO!"

But.....I have news for ole V.D. When I put these things on, she won't have shit on me! he he

- Michael