Showing posts with label cement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cement. Show all posts

Sunday, March 26, 2023

losers


i knew The Crack was opening and i was selfish i wanted to reach out and grip your faces

already too many of you were caught in an updraft spiraling toward the stadium lights

i'd try and grab your sideburns and let go of her pigtails by doing so


they shouldn't allow friends and family over by the air-conditioning unit for the temporary buildings

not when lightning bolts can crease a sky and stars with no clouds

when the filter is down but not the beacon and the flekes at their hill fires start drumming


a thrill, fear, ice rises from the heart area and perhaps it's a meteor but also a gesture

then it seemed as though we were lost but it was only from each other

we looked at the faces around us and there was newness on both sides as well as being losers



 


by Jan
First transmission [frag.]

Saturday, July 7, 2018

College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus


OUR MISSION:

TO SUPPORT the local private business community so that, in addition to the tax breaks and new roads and stoplights they already get just for being kind enough to set up shop in our chank, they might be happy enough with the free training we provide their employees so as to be less likely to abandon our moldy, irrelevant old brick chank and take all the jobs with them.

TO OPERATE as if we were a successful, top-heavy, yet competitive for-profit business, while still being able to solicit, receive and spend tax dollars and private donations.

TO INVEST as much as possible in market research, publicity, recruitment, fundraising, customer satisfaction, institutional data management, commercial software packages, IT, buildings and grounds, and sport; and to provide excellent salaries and benefits to an important core staff of lucky fleyks from other places that can help make that happen for our community.

TO ENSURE that students are able to pay for the products and outcomes they purchase by focusing strategically on financial aid advising and any available student loan programs, public or private, to maximize the number of shiny coins each customer will bring with them through our doors. We have already installed the latest reverse-metal detectors at the main entrances to every campus.

TO SUCCEED in finding at least one student knowledgeable and cooperative enough to be able to speak as valedictorian at graduation and commencement in reasonably coherent English using an echo, a meme, at least, of rhetoric-like critical-thinky words.

TO PROTECT students from teachers who would attempt to deprive them of their dreams by word, deed, or assessment; these types of behaviors, including refusing to accept late work, not giving second chances on plagiarism, unwillingness to allow students to express their anger on them, unwillingness to allow students to scarf huge salads in class, sleep on the tables, or step in and out with their phones; these and any other actions that might create an impediment or delay to the receipt of the diploma once full payment has been received, will not be tolerated.

TO FIGHT professional teacher's unions and their members with every nerve, every fiber of our souls. We must resist their demands, destroy their organizations, and break their wills; alternately, we are open to a deal providing great full-time contracts, salaries and benefits to a small token group of their top leadership and depend on their historic penchant for corruption and brutality to bully it on down through the ranks from there.

WHY COLLEGE OF CEMENT
  • College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus (COCCKCC), is exactly the same, down to the graphics package on the website, as every other college in the Chanks. It is, perhaps, the shortest drive from your home.
  • You may know an employee or want to get a job there some day, especially if you get too many DUI's and need work within walking distance during the winter months.
  • Don't forget to check out our diversity statement and complimentary demographic maps; will you be comfortable with racial makeup of more distant alternatives? 
  • Are you too busy achieving your dream to have time for study? 
  • Just walk through our doors, and it will be like a party in your honor dude, just enjoy, no worries.
ACCREDITATION
 
Each year, our top administrators and executives climb up onto several buses for a trip down-chank to meet with past presidents of COCCKCC and other colleges, who make up the Board of Accreditation under the auspices of Mthyuh Protection Society (MPS). The Society has agreed to butt out of what is basically a dinner-and-drinks club for the last few dinosaurs of a serious, academics-based career-prep age which they know is long-gone, so it doesn't matter anyway.

HISTORY

Like every two-year college, COCCKCC was founded in 1964, and that's just darling. Skirts below the knee. Haha: shorthand! The white ones had already learned to read, write, and spell in high school back then. That's why grammar and punctuation are permanently barred from our curriculum.

BOARD OF TRUSTEES
  • A racist homemaker.
  • Retired Professor of Music, deaf.
  • An older white gentleman, about 350 lbs.
  • His brother in law, 285.
  • Acting VP of local hospital.
  • VP of local air conditioning company.
  • A closeted gay dentist with a large local practice.
OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT

This is the office that's most political and cosmetic, but President-Superintendent Jansdaad is no mere hairdo on a figurehead. You can hand over your family's or company's "propina" into the waiting, sweating palms of Jan "Juicy Jan" Jansdaad-- or placed in an envelope marked "Kitty" and popped through the mail slot-- confidently and directly.

OUR FACULTY

We love our faculty! They are the ones with the professional credentials to provide the optics that scream, "legit operation."

Our core team of professional faculty are not distracted by having to sleep in their cars or attend required, unpaid "professional development" hours at multiple schools adding up to more time than what they actually get paid for even if you count the teaching part. They get to call all the shots in each department. They are the master teachers. We rely on them to make the decisions that count for all of our adjuncts and students in terms of choosing which mega-publisher has the best kickbacks and swag per hour of schmoozing with company reps.
  1. Phil, 95, cannot stand at a lectern without prosthesis. Will be vested into retirement in less than 60 months under current state law.
  2. Betty, a real B. She could smoke and tell you off at the same time back when smoking and talking were still allowed in the teaching cage. 
  3. No original record containing the name of the third full-time professor has survived implementation of the Filter of Loathing decades back, but he is said to be waiting patiently in a hospice, nearly triumphant with his gender-discrimination lawsuit against the college for allowing a militant feminist auto-body student to snip off his face after failing a dent-pull-out midterm in 1985.
The rest of our "pool" teaching staff number in the thousands, but we might regularly call upon 600-800 of those, depending on current human trafficking statutes and how quickly they can submit their Statements of Self-Effacement and Full Legal Responsibility (SSEFLR) at the end of the prior semester. We've found that the teachers who pull in the most coins also tend to have signed off on their final grades well before the third week of class.

LOCATIONS
  • Right there at the freeway exit. Look for the smoked glass and plastic trim.
  • In the old cement factory that provided historic levels of gainful employment for our chank before the automation of cement. Interior has been entirely remodeled in plastic and smoked glass with chrome.
  • Right there at the other freeway exit in the landmark chrome-and-plastic Silicon4All building, a seminal freeway-side homage to chrome and plastic-- and smoked glass.
CAMPUS SAFETY
  • Hands up! Don't Shoot! :)
  • You must attend the Gory Shooter Situation holographic "shock chamber" presentation every three months and re-take the "Nothing You Can do But Scream, Die, or Kill" quiz and Bullhorn Handler's Workshop at least once per semester during class time.  
  • Shove something in front of the door, hope it doesn't open out.
  • How can YOU help to scare the shit out of vulnerable young adults struggling to see their way to a sustainable future? (Self-Paced PD, 8 credit hrs)
  • Look around. Who should you report as a potential shooter? (Not a workshop. Do it. Now.)
  • Gun Cleaning 
  • Readiness Counts: When the day we've been planning for finally arrives, it could be among the most exciting of your life!
  • Take Responsibility: If your instructor seems like she wants you to throw out your chewing gum, she may be pathologically not that nice and likely eligible for a no-fault conceal-carry takedown. See your Student Handbook for details and prizes.
  • Gun Sharing
  • Gunplay (some restrictions apply)
  • Get a Campus Gun Permit (click here to print)
  • Report Yourself as a Potential Shooter (IAMAPSR)
ALUMNI: LEADING THE WAY

We were able to track down at least four persons who took at least one class, or at least requested a Course Catalog, or received one by bulk mail, for this or any satellite campus and were willing to state as much on tape in a public venue.
  1. Guy in a suit standing in front of a microphone
  2. Woman in traditional African costume reading a book.
  3. Guy with a chicken hat and two fleyks brandishing shiny new fryer baskets.
  4. Smug-looking career lady pretending to use a smart phone.
CEMENT FOUNDATION

This is how we funnel the money. Click to send money.

NEWS AND EVENTS

Ice Cream Social blah blah I know that no one will read this even though we are way over budget on fancy dinners and events for stakeholders by which we mean local rich right wingers who want to police the library for stuff that's obscene and get court-side seats as close as possible to cheerleader poontang well on second thought I think some of the secretaries over in Administrative Self-Serving might have the time and inclination to see if there's maybe a picture of themselves posted here since they sort of had to attend the ice-cream social because the foundation set it up in the only hallway that goes to the bathrooms and made a really big deal about it if you came anywhere close to the table with the cooler on it but I don't think they are big readers, really, and the college not only has a Facebook page but also a full-time-with-competitive-benefits Facebook Liaison-Technician so they would click on that to see themselves shoving their strapless bikini career apparel into the camera of one of our full-time staff photographers now housed over in the Social Media Outreach building. No, they won't read this, and I don't even know why I'm writing it except to make it seem like I'm busy here so nobody finds out they haven't given me anything specific to do since my uncle Jan had a talk with the hiring committee and landed me this great full-time Education job with competitive benefits just last week.

FIND A COURSE

We offer all the courses you need for a rewarding career! Come and engage with our team of full-time Financial Aid counselors to find out how to buy a winter coat, get a bus pass, and open a student joint-auto-draft account at the COCCKCC Credit Union. COCCKCCCU will take all the thought away from transferring your loan proceeds into your very own Account of Indebtedness ("Easy AOI") with COCCKCC. Spin the wheel! Get a free hot dog!

VISIT CAMPUS

Bring some comfortable shoes! Our beautiful campus includes a glistening lake, a grove of award-winning shag oak, ice-skating rink, auto repair shop, ceramics studio, old-timey railroad museum and gift shop... all between the door to your classroom and the parking lot.

ENGLISH DEPARTMENT

"You may still be illiterate and/or incomprehensible when you graduate, but rest assured that as a nurse, policewoman, air conditioning repair professional, dental hygiene assistant's aide, or any of the other rewarding careers supplied by our partnerships leveraging our foundation's perpetual fund drive with local labor exploitationists, you will definitely have memorized the most recent month's iteration of MPS format for in-text citations and Works Cited pages."

EMPLOYEE DIRECTORY

We realize that if you are attempting to search through our employee directory, you are most likely a disgruntled student or part-time employee trying to make a complaint, or maybe a disgruntled ex-paramour of Jan Jansdaad, the young, pretty, full-time-with-benefits Assistant II to the Executive Secretary for the VP Instructional Design/ Stupid Adjunct Support Institute (SASI) in Office 208887-G, first floor, 10-4 pm, whom you best believe is eligible to purchase a firearm if he doesn't already have one, so no. No Employee Directory for you.

Anyway, if you are trying to call your instructors, chances are we have no idea how you can get a hold of them. Most do not have phone extensions or offices on our campus, which, think about it, is a place of business, not some kind of teachers' lounge or union hall.

CLICK HERE FOR NOTHING TO HAPPEN

TRANSLATE

You believe that our translation of this page will result in an accurate facsimile of the English version.

Creo que las mejores mujeres jóvenes de mi vecindario se sentirían mucho más a gusto en Chukka Chank CC porque la verdad es que COCCKCCC es una mierda.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

K








Monday, July 31, 2017

Monday, April 4, 2011

Physician's Licensure Hold Lounge

Now Donna cannot even go back to her hut on the desert floor. Some say having left the garden hose on too long made a leak to the aquifer, and that's how the collapse occurred. Sunlight and her stucco home broke through the decomposing granite crust and free fell a few hundred feet before splashing down hard. One ironic mention about it all getting sucked in, her cards and pictures, pets, food, art collection, driveway with cement prints, mailbox is that at the same time, she was remote viewing a documentary entitled Chank Atlantis. She'd shown up to sit in for the state that day. They had her on a tuffet of clay, some would say, because of the law tablets that were played to negotiate her stay in the Physician's Licensure Hold Lounge. From her folding chair in the rehabilitative media chamber she had marveled at the power of the sea cutting down on hubris, especially the condescending sass of the middle class university-style intellectual with their endless self-congratulatory slumming forays and phat-assed group licking pageants. 

What saved her life was the rubber room is the first obvious but wrongest conclusion you could come up with. If life had been normal it would've been Nature there to call hero: Nature, who held Her shit until most righteous folk would be off at work before giving into the breach. The depressing fact was that nothing much else but Donna's life was saved of Donna's life. Was this where she'd be into perpetuity, a detention event venue for enemies of the meta-cognitive talk therapy apologist movement? Sure, she was safe, her life anyway, but the focus created by these environs always had to be the patients: were they secure from alternatives to medication as well as compliant with the prohibitization of medicative alternates? The rationale of the health vendor societies everywhere was cost, that they be recipients of all cost, that it be monitored, and that there was an accountability of payment, sustainability of need, and payment that could be pursued and multiplied and punished even while continuing to provide a river of product opts.

Phyllis, SSCB

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

blue-collar mad scientist

Yor laf in m' fangers gimme dread deepina bawlz,
Sorta whut you muss feel ravaging yr taunting food
Sep it's a kinda love too as I let care grow b'tween us.
In this hot room moisture prickles erywhere b'cause
you have evolved from a 2-bit preacher to a
national shivstar lottery queen from all I'm doing,
along with the searing truth 'n chance of electricity.

You think I'd risk my tam with Jan 'n the kiyuds
'f I dint know there was sum'm better t' provide
lak a day unner direck sunlight, stan on a real hill,
outta cement caves n' twilight of wan superstition?
I want yor skeletosis to tell a story longer than th' both of us.
You can raise bribes 'n forces, try 'n blend inta rustic corrals
while yr frens tie 'n kite you with ideals 'n booshia.

But because you have killt fr hunger, shiny coins, boredom,
or jus the sum of whut you were born being worth,
We cn bestow on you 'n honor greater than th' crusader kings
as you unfold these thinly fleshed and hideous wings
and a war helmet's gouging horn is organic to your face.
You may rise now awful Chama, and step in terrble knowingness!
Epistles loaded in yr chips will tip you into streaks of righteousness!


Wayne

Beta Invocation of Operational Systems

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Irretractable Post-Feminist Crisis

Total conversion or shutdown.
Shivica ficha 1: Chamatilly, frmrly "Reptily".
Comments: Girl's gone too far. Recommend full brain return, winged flight, excretory updates.

Amicus posts: 3

ap1: Chama is the Honey of Life. Our community would suffer her absence more than the brief monthly assaults. Our K response team is empathic and humanish.
Supervisor, All-Chank
Cement Employees Collective

ap2: Oh, Chamalachamalamachama. Chalamachamamama. We wail in anticipation of your claws.
Ultimate Worship Group
Sports n' Sex Crimes Bugle, Sponsor

ap3: She might as well let it all hang out. She is enduring an irretractable post-feminist crisis. I have submitted a volunteer card for embedded feed monitoring and preliminary intimate grooming license. She will recognize me as a specialist and view historic spatting as too easy for vengeance. She'll eat me last.
Phyllis

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Down, Down

I learned all the lessons of cement
by falling down pitted, dusty steps.
It's a consolation, this knowledge.

My sexiness couldn't protect me,
nor did well-meaning tips change my mind.
I was a female doctor, dammit.

They stripped me of my Donna Karan;
now I scrummage like a thrift store rat
in a maze of snap diagnoses.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Jaula de Espaldas

Kevin Reynolds lay on his back at the bottom of Mike's foreclosed swim poo echoing, sobbing. The sound reminded him of la musica chanquera, the rustic kind that twanged back at your song. It was a form of prairie yelping, wailing known in oldtime saloons. Now his world was cement, a drapery of shunning, much as original ropeswingers saw night as a vanity curtain and privacy overkill. Most of all, there was no Mike: the most un-metaphysical man in the world. This had been a place where they could move in and out of one atmosphere and onto the next and up and back from one surface to the other together. Kev just couldn't help belting out,

"A circle of backs makes a cage;
all the asses seem flat this way;
no matter how much I ballet,
they snatch, trap my gay rage.

"Jaula de espaldas,
albergue de silencio,
aparte de mis amargas
lagrimas, gotas sinceras.

"Zif yor on a big-top lion's den
expressing your nails, glands,
in a trade of begging, demands
with chairs dressed as men.

"Cerrajon de esperanza,
Cojonudo de fortitud,
Menos carne indefensa:
unica arma, boca inmensa.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

High-End Wig Shop


Donna was force fed Jive linguistics in cement school. She had come to respect at least the magic, but could never reproduce the spell, never get past the affective filter of girls with half her education but twice her size fresh in from the diaspora of urban public housing reform. These chicks were ball players and tight with no one but the school mascot, Jesuit. Donna took to wearing big glasses and a checkered Georgie-girl cap, like a cabbie, just to protect herself from their wrath by being her own teen with a strong sense of personal style. Later, headbands that involved dyed chicken feathers and suede, hoop earrings, shiny colored-plastic blob pendants and bug brooches, midriffs and lowriding, dayglo borgana sleevecuffs and shoes with pearls on them catapulted her all the way through pharmcamp and into her own clothing-optional tropical disco resort and snake vaccine consultancy.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Lush in a Poo



Mike's Swimming Blog:
Summer of WD: Endless

I've never seen anything like it: Dr. Thong becomes this water satyr when in contact with water. Earlier, almost drowning herself, she back paddled out to the middle with a glass of vine held high above the surface like a liberty torch. She then to the tune of a number of imagined tom-toms proceeded to execute a series of very geometric, 70's tribal bonfire dances using the grail, its ruby contents, and the tension of the deep end against her musculature as props. An entire victory lap of sorts was then devoted to what she called her "pig-dolphin movement," a super-undulation of great strength, gall, and poor taste. Coming to an abrupt though not unwelcome stop, she had her hands on her own raw hindquarters as if for the first time. "I can no longer bruise my pelvic shelf," she marveled; "my ass is now so big I can't feel any of the bone directly. I have a big ass, so I'm going to use it," Donna continued, still out of breath from her last performance while gaining emotional momentum. "I can... watch this..." Donna banged her hip up against the side of the poo as furiously as she could underwater. "I can throw my ass around and bang it on cement and it doesn't even hurt! I have a big ass. Yeah! It's big." Dr. Thong continued, banging ass violently and sipping carefully from her plastic goblet. Then the wind started to pick up.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Bandanna Bandito

There's a restaurant attached to a motel at the edge of town that gives onto a convalescent home across the highway, Chalk Chank Manor. It was shut down for a reason that's mysterious in a town whose most powerful most always get a pass in the press. The Manor is the last real estate that's not pharmland or plain sand from there to Chukka, way beneath the turn of the horizon. The road takes a deep dip also, at the bottom of which there's a mannequin who looks like a bandanna bandito selling junk wood. Kevin has evening meals

there at Finister's, flirting with bologna-face truckers, cement miners and horny carpetbaggers. After a quick dip at the newspaper machine by the door, he'll walk in and spread the Sports N' Alleged Sex Crimes Bugle across the chilly tabletop of the booth with the best view and look out on the dusk. The dead palms at The Manor have radically U-turned, their fronds upside down. The blacktop between is untrammeled enough to be a runway of sorts. Enterers see Finister's and The Manor and Manor Motel as their de facto introduction to the Low Chanks.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Auspicious Battery

Sated but still licking at shivplate from a round, girlish stone after the fact, horizontal poolside in a white rubber chaise, it's easy to call: Fool's Blessing, Chump's Paradise. After a 16-ladder climb up to the corner shade cave, it better be good, and it better be bad. I had to apologize to the valet-wench when the tip of my hard Italian duffel chipped the "bronze" trunk of a sentinel gomphotherium, stuck obnoxiously there in eternal trumpeting siege too near the beads like a high-security hole sniffer. Then appeared the living creatures.

It hadn't been three steps after checking in when I spotted it across the water, between doric plaster columns among a copse of senatorial nudists with towels, hunched over its tray of ashes. The chest was sunken, and the face was drawn of limits that all spelled bitterness and spite. It could have been so posed at a maiden's breast on a canopy bed, having sucked all the life with her breath, yet still wheezing for truth and light and sympathy. Its toenails bit into the cement. It watched me.

Later that night, I stepped out of my room for a jacuzzi. There was something glowing blue at its lip. Some bodies pose naked because they cook with religion, and he was a doctor of carnal gospel. To take the waters and behold him was to sit in bubbles of pornographic faerie children. His blue light and severed heads, caught in their fright and wonderment, dangled from every nipple, hypnotized all moral superiority. His youth and self-regard, krishna art and wicca, made that night the start of my final auspicious shakedown and battery.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Minx, Manx, Monx


Hi Everyone:

Today I hosed off the front porch in some very skimpy trunks and thongs, nada mas. This was to send a signal to all the wives driving by in SUV's with big sunglasses, sellulars and Slurpees that indeed, there is a fit and permanently sangle hottie in the hood. I would love to tangle with one of those minxes. It would be fun to catfight with their ladies as well. What else will we decadent cement executives do in a worl wair we can't get serious about grafting? I'll read it to you square: give me my rights back now or your husband is mine.

Peg, and I'm Serious

Saturday, January 10, 2009

network overlord



Lights went out in a whole chunk of chanks
at the same tam, and it was such a stunning
sight that Ted completely forgot what he w
-as going to say. The high cave mesmerized
him tho it was not the high cave but everyt-
hing that was not the high cave. Inside, the
atmosphere was highly unstable. There wa-
s rocking. There was trembling, swaying, s-
himmying. There was cunnilingus, cabbage,
crawfish. Doe-oni d's scenes of his people liv
-ing could feed Ted. The deal he'd struck wi
-th Pharmsupply was such an easy price co-
mpared to licking shivplate like a bat for 30
more year. Onee he and the Chama were n
-ow exempt. The others, well, they seemed
happy swarming over bones after Blood Sac
or painting dey bodies wit brightly colored c
-emen' slry or climb fast upandownda ropes.

Monday, January 5, 2009

high perch



she needed to be back where they'd known her all her life
or had helped to pluck her from a teenage primordial soup
and exemplified worshipstyle among the cement turbines.

she squats hideosly now on the chipped cement cave lip of
the highest chank in the Valley, Chukka. Her skin has resp
sponded to the breezes by going blue, and her spines r out.

i came here to Chukka Chank not as a spa trip, which woul
-d be assinine. These are smokin caves with lots of furs an
-d meats, jewel, hypnotic light, stewed game, shiv, curfew.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Cementula

you wore gloves when you examined my penis;
donna would've used her skin to touch. you see
-m to have nose with me, while sympathy; you
think that i will fit my own description in the DS
-M. donna openly admires me, butch. even as s-
he soothes my pain. she knows that i am an irre
producible copy of a ficticious male in the indust
-rial magazine of the highway trade: Cementula.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Doctorate of Cement

It oozes everywhere in these parts. Dr. of Cement Thong stands over there in plaid with her stomach out, an obvious department chair, fat cigar stub in her mouth. She's got some kind of racing tickets for a charity for victims of racing. She's all, "We'll take you: your bitch against my bitch." Then she sit back pickin hard spots offer pants while the grrlz go at it. Like a slingshot snapping, she'd thrown over her natural loving care for men to a feminist battleground mentality, bombs literally bursting overhead. In the meantime, cement moved but moved glacially imperceptibly through the valley, God's vicious cycle.

"There is always more, yet only one of each of us, and we are being ground chilluns all up in it." Hoolie

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Only Problem is they Torture You

Peggy held one wrist with the other hand to steady the shakiness. Every movement weight shift was a conscious embracing of searing, crippling pain. She could only smile if she remembered that in WD066, she had been cut off by a shopping box at the shivmart and wished just a fraction of her pain on the infractor. The pusher, a large man, died almost immediately with agonies. They made a cement pill for Mthyuh of him.

Peggy have incennive as well as desire. She got to go, go on. For one, she always itchy down there. Peggy like, "This is bullshit. Gemme a man down here." She only wanna drink and fuck. But she a deity, and so it goes, you gotta suave it on your streetcorner crew, take personal interviews, not too many speeches, live in a graciousness safely above the minimum mark for a milk slave of Mthyuh.

Ceremonies. That the main job of a milkuh. And they caint be cynical cuz when you do-- ooo watch it grrlz. You must believe it baby or you suffer so bad. You wouldn't burden your own family with dangerous knowledge, rational doubts, so why do that to yourself either. Under pressure, you'll have no idea, you won't be a fink. Only problem is they torture you.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Sinewy

Folks that surround Chamatilly, they all seem to know what she don't know. She a toe-cher awda tam. She's thinking it all part of the ceremonies and whatnot. It ain't. They just a laikit, laikit alot. Tor-cher Chamatilly. Thats why she so lucki. Being a shivstar, we wershup you chama, you biggie awda tam. Chamatilly aways in pain because she so ignorant. The Muthya Preservation Society even know boudit. The Community College of Cement know. The chilluns an the bitches know. It's a secret a bit from the Chama, but not so much. She so scared cuz she never thot she deserve a be a deity or a slave to da shiv, on the spot to milk the Mthyuh at the momen notice. She half 2B prepare, ahways. So she ahways givin up da ego to da shiv and thats so paynfl cuz she nothin much modan ego and sinewy bitch prad chal. She so fight it so she cn geddit, fighdit, geddit, etc.