fr1st p0s7 2004 b17ch35. um, i was never really one for keeping up with the times, i guess. the year so far's been pretty good to me (shit, how could it not be? it's the year of the monkey. a billion chinese people can't be wrong. a thousand or so loiterers in tiannamen square can be a little misguided perhaps, but all up they're a pretty spot on
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then again, you have a syndrome that's almost an anagram of "ayn rand's syndrome," so i should've known better than believing anything you say anyways.
the closest thing i want to meet to a zombie is the walking corpse of colin blunstone (um, pending his death). THAT'S 200% ZOMBIE!!!! i'd be all "what's your name? who's your undead-dy". ahem.
ps you know my rule about not being able to play things that you can't pronounce/spell (it's one word, dammit). same rules apply for indiepop as they do for nuclear weapons. apparently half the reason george w. bush went to war with iraq was to try and find the i am the world trade center records he'd heard saddam had hidden down the back of his couch, because he figured he was owed at least a replacement north tower given the latter's alleged involvement in september 11.
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