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The Third Rail
A Third Ride on the Dissident Railroad with the Big-Brained Nimbus Crew
Mister Borzoi Boscovic has taken time out from managing his Siberian Coffee plantation, guarded by endangered white tigers [ingeniously putting escaping slaves in the position of violating international misanthropy norms if they harm one of these four-legged slave-catchers] in order to use his massive brain to solve the problem that the Cordova Minus—cause dats what it do, minuses our shit—once it mutated into the Cordoba Minus, went from being able to survive 17 days on Corinthian leather, to its current form—a Negro can’t keep up with dis shit. What’s it even called now?—Gulag Quaranteen, in what capacity it may now live on vinyl for a full school year…and whatever are we going to do with these obnoxious little fuckers?
You can’t even pay an uncaring bitch to boss your brats around anymore—this is surely the end of Western Civilization!
Okay, I got off the track a little. But the point is, that I’ll be talking to Borzoi and these other big-brained nimbus dudes this Saturday, at 10:00 in the Ass Meridian…
I don’t gotz da link—got da dude’s phone number. [Actually, I think I have devolved since coming back east—getting’ dumber by da day!] But yo smart ass found me, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find his brilliant star, its that pale and un-twinkling light at the end of the spiral arm that glares at this fucked up worl without alarm…
So, I’m going to get on the juice of civilization to up my brain capacity and try and keep up with these young whip crackers. This fine lady I’m staying with still gotz 31 bottle of wine staring at my dumb ass from the rack on the wall like I don’t know what ta do!
Yeah, think again Bottle Number Ten!
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