Blow, ego! Blow and crack thy cheeks!

Treasure and indemnify your children's children's ability to penetrate your fellow friends' children's children jumping on top of each other like toaster ejected bagels and for God and your other incestuous and fantastical posteritous prurience. If you're going to make a woman out of your later-tilled seed, at least put a paper bag on not that language in this house! Language is a free-spirit, nonself-effacing and ego ridden plague, said the Hamburgler. Treasure. If you've dipped into the repository, I'd suppose orificity like that rhyme. Oh oh! Not all arms, I'm all arms and you're dead dang. Teetered off the precipice like a mademoiselle in distresouelle hehehe then bang! Anticlimactic, unrejected bullet, go forth, like these prose! Oops, there's the conscious train choo choo chug hug me.