gastropoda

This is like kicking a lame ho, but the Human Scratch N Match is really giving bimbos a bad name. I would almost love to be a roach on the wall when the slot decides which copy editor is going to have to descend into the pool of verbal muck to format that crapola and give it a hed. Clearly, no one even attempts to edit it into a publishable state. With Merkato 55, she had me at “the menu is colored.” But the stupid just kept coming. Until I realized that is the whole point. Unlike every earnest reviewer who has ever tried to contort into that impossible position, she has people talking. We study the brain wreck to see if there are indeed limits to cretinism. For the paper, though, it’s a deal with the devil. Let your copy editors amplify delicious nuances long enough and they will soon be letting “seemless bras” into print. And speaking of which, throw one onto the table, please. The promo ads could be for Spitzer services.

And speaking of a guy who could have cleaned up selling filthy water to the troops rather than trying to forestall socialized banking in America, anyone else notice that his PaidPal bears a rather striking resemblance to the Human Scratch N Match? Is there some factory somewhere that punches out these “girls”? Just imagine if Ham Awry had thought to record a little lame-ass music before taking her gig. No one would be buying her for a mere 50 cents today.

What is the sound of one tit typing? A dining room is flourished, single orders of gnocchi compete with entire restaurants, a lobster loses its nerve. I’m starting to think the flop sweat is shorting out the laptop.