I set myself up a playlist last night, to stare at the ceiling by. I realized that of the music I chose, more than half of it originated from a compilation called "The Scariest Music in the Universe" - including Bach's Tocatta and Fugue in G Min, Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain, Holst's Mars the Bringer of War, and other music that would pair
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Mark
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Off to Florida in the near future, so probably not the best time. Besides, don't waste your minutes on my raspy-ass drone - save it for the gargle-like gutterances of some Brittanic harlot.
If you can, find the Max Beerbohm plate from "The Poet's Corner" entitled "Mr. Rudyard Kipling Takes a Bloomin' Day AH, on the Blasted 'Eath, along with Britannina, 'is Gurl." THAT is what I am going to picture you doing, until otherwise is suggested.
Anyway, you're a prince. Aim well your ponders.
0dk0
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i'm getting one.
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