Monday, September 25, 2006

I think they're onto us

I wish I was a fainting goat.  The ones whom fall down dead whenever danger comes near.

How nice it is to say, it was the faint that got me ate, not my every effort but because of a genetic dis-effort.  How sweet that excuse.  You should write a song about fainting goats and perform it at the Grammys.

Or a fainting goat that has a speedy clown car to speed away from danger.  I could be that goat.


I see the mistake, to you?

That's right.  Lamb shit.  Well done, innernet.  You'll know science as good as me, soon.  And grammar!