yes, i lived a life, but it wasn't a life of that much spectacular; but it certainly felt as good as squeezing out a warm ****.

is this some of cipher i'm supposed to
understand,
   what i mean by that is:
           alpha males, betas, omegas...
    while lo! and behold...
                           a ******* *tiger mother...
a cougar...
         so i'm the *** that's good at
                                                  spelling?
ne­ver mind, whiskey's flowing
     the delirium is over and,
   i'm finally appreciating the pedantic
bits of the sunday times newspaper...
and it's wednesday?
                roland white has now
become my favourite journalist...
       i have to give to niall ferguson
too... primarily because
   i too watched a youtube video on
                    steven pinker...
          but dr. pangloss aside:
                 **** me was voltaire neurotic
about african *****... not richards
(that is).
            honestly though...
               a newspaper only makes sense
if it's published on a sunday...
              the rest of the days it's just
        sensationalism, if anything:
                    so much happened,
               but we still only managed to cover
a decimal point...
                   as a young man (it would appear)
i learned to be an old ****
     (which means luck, in another
language)...
          drunk like a ***,
                          lived like a spider,
                 and was really good
   at teaching infant cats:
                       not to take a **** in his bed
ever again... qat qaeda can kiss my ***:
     muchas gracias...
                 but i still have to make
  a concession point...
                   whoever bred maine *****?
   a mighty fine job
                   turning the feline into
                       a kanine... clingy buggers.
- but yet, journalism only makes
sense on a sunday...
                                   the rest of the week
it's a refrigerator toying with
                  humming, or bee noise.