93 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
93 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTACY PRESS RELEASE #269 !!
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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Undulating Mr. Lizard" !!
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##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Trilobyte !!
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..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 11/4/98 !!
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!!========================================================================!!
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for years i have gone through periods of extreme contentedness
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followed by time in which i undulated in a pool of rancid despair. for a
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while, the one-legged lizard that is my life would be successfully
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capturing its prey and devouring it, but then for another set of extended
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moments it would lay helplessly stranded on the sandy wasteland of a
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sprawling rural urban communette.
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and it would seem that the varying levels of success for my lizard
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were rising and falling as audial waves could represent a picturesque,
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convoluted scene of humanity in droves. as fluctuations permutated
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through all the blob, my lizard, a member, would be shaken and stirred.
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its one-leggedness is only abstracted by a pre-evoluted fin attached to
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the rear of the head.
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and the movement -- the vibrations and tremors in the crowd
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surrounding my lizard -- are not perpetuated by the group itself. an
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outside power, a useless collective of freaks, intellects, one-eyed men
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and antiquated airplane manufacturers is pushing. they stand outside our
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gelatinous mass and push and push and push. the airplane men have big,
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stumpy, fat fingers that they use to poke at us with; the freaks hit
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their heads very hard; the intellects lick and lick at our mass; the
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one-eyed men push their bulging shoulders into us.
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these men are not part of our blob, like my lizard and your
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pulpit. these men come from a nearby cave and they get warm under the
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sun. beads of sweat drip from their brow when they travel from their home
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to the resting place of our massive convolution.
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they come to us and they push and they knead and they soothe and
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they yank and press and things change. there are trees overhead, above
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us, and they keep the men cool as they work at changing our state.
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and my lizard may find that a piece of interest has been pushed
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his way. this is how things shift. what /your/ pulpit or /his/ latchkey
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or /her/ hybrid flower do not receive will make its way to /my/ one-legged
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lizard, someday, if not first allowed to someone else.
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and he may be very hungry. his leg removed while he was in the
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desolate area of our blob. there was a possibly future of productive time
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and living well. and his leg became removed, and no more chance of that.
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[his brain does not recall that his leg removed. i, though, i
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know it did. obvious signs lead to the notion of previous removal of his
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leg.]
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and as things shift, a morsel enters my lizard's realm, and with
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the quickness of a hungry reptile my lizard will possess an item of
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interest to him. devour it, he may -- he may hold it or set it near him.
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he will hope that it does not shift to another place. and he remains.
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somehow maybe my one-legged lizard will be removed from the wasted
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land in which he remains. perhaps one's latchkey will entice /your/
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pulpit to shift /my/ lizard. my lizard can be in new place, new place and
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/her/ hybrid flower -- a lily and rose? a hyacinth and tulip? -- can meet
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him. mr. lizard, meet ms. hybrid flower, together in new place, you can
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/get/ things together. find what is placed near you, hope you will still
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receive, i can't say more to you because you wouldn't understand, mr.
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lizard. you can't have vision of the external. that's not /for/ you.
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and so lizard doesn't know about the erroneous group that often
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stands out, pushing and tweaking and licking and caressing. my lizard may
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theorize on a particularly good or bad shift of item. perhaps there is a
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reason for the shift, mr. lizard. yes, perhaps, but i don't see it, he
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would say.
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if to remain alone, that is, my one-legged lizard stays for it all
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in his big empty hubbub, it will not be survival. and sometime the group
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of outmoded airplane designers and freaks and company will stop. no more
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pushing fortunate shifts for my lizard. any momentum of pulse left in our
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cell of existence will slowly grow old as it becomes so young and
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certainly my one-legged lizard will have no more lucky things pass to him.
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my old one-legged lizard will have no /interest/ and will pass.
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delicate, frail, strong, and stuck together with tears and smiles,
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our pliable mass will fail and links will be gone and all will fall. and
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the big men and freaks and one-eyed hulks will have already left. and
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i'll be gone. bye, i say now, as i might not have motion to pass on to
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you then.
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!!========================================================================!!
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!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #264 -- WRITTEN BY: TRILOBYTE -- 11/4/98 !!
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