Avant garde, no?

Jesus Fucking Christ On A Fucking CRUMPET (apologies for the C word, but I am fucking impassioned) drizzled in the fucking honey of a thousand bees long dead, their tiny bee ashes committed to the wind, as so shall we all be when this rock we call Earth succumbs to the fucking cruel and heartless (or perhaps, fucking forgiving?) forces of entropy. I mean, it'll be like cosmic winds, yeah. Not regular fucking wind, like we have at the moment on the Earth. Cos it'll be in space. Wind works differently in space.

Don't ask me how it works! Do I look like an astro-fucking-physicist to you? Do I? I suppose I rather fucking do, given the fucking NASA insignia on my lab fucking coat. That's not the fuck-fucking-ing point.

Good Grief.

Recently, there have been some disagreements about what words mean.

In future, if there is some sort of disagreement about what a word means, just click on this fucking link.

Thank Fucking You.

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