i have a va503+ clocked at 2.5 ghz

One day I heard that Christian Slater was coming to my little town to sign
Yankee hats at waffle house. so after I finished eating my nightly
breakfast of ground chuck and vegan chicken patties, I hopped in my '57
Nissan Accord and took off to Ihop. after hanging around Ihop for an hour
or nine, Batman happened in and reminded me that Christina Slater was at the
waffle house, not Ihop. I felt a little silly, but Batman made be a bouquet
of excited chipmunks from his origami utility belt, and I felt much more
like a falling ham sandwich. so off I went in my truck, driving through the
thick drizzly chocolate and moose eyes that comprised the fiendishly yellow
road. I would latter understand that it was just Beneficiary. suddenly, a
domesticated shopping cart mildly jogged out in front of my van! and wow!
so after I stayed a few nights at the Sheraton Grande, I continued my angst
journey of anguishing non-peril. I finally saw the waffle house through the
opaque bugsheild of my SUV. it was already morning, so I felt like having
dinner. I went inside, shot Wally in the head (don't worry, everyone
shoots Wally in the head), and ordered the Pheasant under house-arrest and a
bottle of lima-bean Quick. at my table's hand, I saw a nice violin, so I
picked it up with my nose and began to play Aqua-lung. Christian Slater
really liked that, so he let me have anal intercourse with Sandra Bullock
while her ate a Pioneer Stereo System. I told him that VCR's digest better,
but noooo. he had to be the fucking big shot. so I ran outside to my
Mustang and got out a bowel of slightly used deodorant sticks and went back
inside. Sandra ran out screaming and stole some four-year-old handicapped
girl's mustache trimmer and fled to Germany. I thought that was
distasteful, so I urinated in a cup and threw it at an old lady walking her
super-sized French poodle named Fuckhead. we all had a good laugh, and I
put away the deodorant and decided to let Christian Slater be Zestfully
clean on his own terms. after that, I shot and killed everyone in the place
with a baseball pitching machine filled with Pokemon toys, then I set myself
on fire with a two day old meatloaf. after I died, I went home and wrote
this in my own semen on a hanky that Diana Ross had given me for my
graduation from NAMBLA's school for cute, special boys.
The beginning.

 

And I have some great farmland in Antarctica, care to buy some?

 

The (melting) Ice-shelf Ranch, I suppose. Sell it quick!

 

i'll buy it! trade you my Tandy 1000 with a 40 gig tape drive.