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Aug 29, 2007 11:00

Why is sweet bread so desperately amusing? The Evil Podiatrist ponders this while pointing his left index finger at crystals that only he can see. Magic markers form in the diluted silence. The Evil Podiatrist is parallel. There will be no pants.

"Yellow" is a mesmeric word. The Evil Podiatrist says it twenty-three times as he pulls strings out of picture frames. The final "Yellow" is sung, not spoken, and the Evil Podiatrist receives a vision of shrieking muffins.

There have never been pants.

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