Friday, August 22, 2008

That Meaty Harvest.

For some time now I've been promising everyone who reads this thing that whatever floated to the top of my spam filter would once again be pressed up against your screen like so much face at the window.

Without further ado then, some moist, if not entirely fresh, spammy treats for y'all:

Don't get lost in her eyes because of small dimensions.

Or impossible geometries, presumably.

Tell them about the honey

You must. It is fucking imperative.

Have wild nights of love back again to life.

Despite appearances, the message was not selling sex zombies.

We have everything to cure your masculinity.

Good. It was beginning to itch.

Unemployed To Be Used For Soup

If you vote for Cameron.

Be ready go come anytime

That's why we had the flap installed in the kitchen door.

All the women will be in awe when your manhood shines like a star

What? I mean, what in the name of Jesus Trevor Christ?

Do you want to be King of sweet babies?

Categorically no.

And finally, not a tagline, but I did receive a message from a man by the name of... Kenny Jesus. And I'm glad I did.

1 comment:

Lucy said...

Bless you, Baby King. Bless your frilly little cotton socks.