There was no so-called Christmas this year. Moreover, there will never be another Christmas again. From now on, December 25th is now and forever known as The Day George Michael Died Day.
Send your plastic trees and wreaths to the plastic smelting plant.
Take those stockings off the mantle, put a bar of soap in them and use them for self defence.
Give the roasted chestnuts to what little wildlife remains in your strip-mall blighted community.
Nothing is good and everything is bad.
Don't believe me? Let's do the math:
This man is dead
meanwhile, this psychopath lying scumbag, this slippery puddle of squirting pig shit, and this fucker, the undisputed king of the fucking assholes still drink child blood freely from Chinese slave-made stemware on this flat, 6000 year old earth.
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2017! Who loves ya baby?
The JOOKLO-ZAPPA GEORGE MICHAEL MEMORIAL FREEDOM MACHINE--that's who loves you!
And by "you" the JOOKLO-ZAPPA GEORGE MICHAEL MEMORIAL FREEDOM MACHINE means select locations in Europe and Scandinavia. It does *not* mean the UK or the so-called --as those pricks are too skint to even cover our coffee drinking budget. Jolly good job, you tossers! Now I know what the moustached-one meant when he said the ocean "is a body of water to isolate England"
And of course, now that George Michael is dead, what's the point of going to the England at all? For the food?
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Soprano saxophones. Mine is just about useless...bent and beaten from the last tour. Poor little thing...that gentile Antigua Wind never had a chance against the fierce Western Canadian and US Pacific North West gusts of fantastic hospitality.
Say, anyone out there in Soprano saxophone land interested in having one of their lower end student model horns (that works) trotted all over Europe and Scandinavia?
Believe me, these aren't careless whispers I'm making over here. As you can see the JOOKLO-ZAPPA GEORGE MICHAEL MEMORIAL FREEDOM MACHINE loves to blog, and this 24% of the JOOKLO-ZAPPA GEORGE MICHAEL MEMORIAL FREEDOM MACHINE promises to get his picture taken with your working lower end student horn at Kierkegaard's house and outside the better bakeries and bike shops along the way. My God--just think of the exposure!!!
Everyone loves to work just for the exposure, right?
If you are a saxophone capitalist and are interested in being my Father Figure by lending me a working horn that can play notes above C#, feel free to drop me a line on this very blog (where the working horn you lent me will be "exposed.")
In the mean time, believe on this...
See you in May unless you are in England, in which case we will not see you, ever.