He ran outside with his shirt open, savoring the rain on his skin, brown strips of it peeling off in stinky orange smut. Mutant dregs of his parents. Cardinal fucking Jamerson, the III. Motown’s heart, lungs, gut, blood stuffed in a fifteen dollar a night motel, aborted. *FromRock ...
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including the mini-Gragg for Li’l T’s March birthday (coincidentally the month for the arrival of grandson #3, all of them March boys), outfitting my 18thC tool chest collection for on
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One of the more interesting things about White people is that they love singing comedians. This style of humor involves a person or group singing a song but rather than singing about something serious, it has funny lyrics. It's not any more complicated t