can't you hear it calling everybody's shakin
You can't go but two blogs without tripping over a bitch about Flatty McFlatEarth (guilty as charged), but so few of us know how to do it right.
Ain't that right Greg?:
Friedman praises the New India, freed of the shackles of Old India's socialist welfare state. I've seen the New India: half a billion people in dirt huts supporting a tiny minority's right to shop in air-conditioned malls. It is a Fritz Lang film in Hindi.
One of these mornings we're going to wake up and read that Friedman and his ego got into a lover's quarrel after a night of coke and club hopping in Israel and his ego beat him to death with a rolled-up Sharper Image catalog.
P.S., true believers - focus all the luck and coffee and kisses you can muster on this here blog this here week. For some reason I thought an essay on a book written by James Dobson's son for no money would put me on the path to sexy hipster fun and glory, so that's at least two or three days shot.
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