Watching TV, half-awake. Laying on this lovely sofa, flipping the channels. Watching the crap that we call TV. Having my laptop on my side writing random stuff on it. You know folks, the only cure for a early hangover. Is dot drink some more. Yee-haw. Flipping channels. Now and days, you can put anything of TV. You are a wife, who is from Jerseay. You get a show, you win the prize. I lose, they win.
How about this, TV../? How about a show; about a man, who served his Country. Who quit to find life. outside the realms pf that hole, that we call existence. When the man got out, a decade later. He tries to find his childhood show. Then remembers crap of his last day at corps or confusing memories/dream into a big blender. Dyslexia of the mind and stuff. Up and down.
Yeah, that show would be great. Crazy bastard Johnny Variety Hour. Featuring John Motherfucking Peters. Also starring Black trenchy young fucker pants. Look at how they will fight. Yeaah. Fuck TV. Oh, great. It's all static now. Oh, no. Ominous. Everyone have a shot on me. I going to fight the dead air of static.
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