Burnt Issue

Studies show that patriarchy was invented by women in order to give their husbands something to do peace time and to stay on track even while out plundering. Sure, mono-theism asks you to choose a parent. But which one is it? The Mthyuh while fathyuh lead a crusade? Is busy passing you thru her living tissue, chall. Yor rostrum is forged in her loin and you are her tanline. She is the hive plugger while males drone. Another commandment written on the human soul, however: that one sex is not enough. Any one gender will get cruel heady. So their worship must be binary to reap of it a nirvanic system. But since they suffer, one set of genitals in your face always. They reject a parent out of fear for security. Toss the soprano; keep the pit bull. He can't sing anyway, and she's a total bitch to those who might threaten our famly. Mthyuh: piquant going in and picaresque coming out.

Naughty Somalians

When the hooded one arrives on his apple cart, steps down with a naked scythe?
When sudden death occurs there is a strong initial shock, and then healing begins. A major illness will extend the period of strong exposure and be more likely to create permanent collateral damage. Beyond length of exposure, intensity can fluctuate and climb, stressing out a worshiper's innermost marrow.

Are there any interactions or serious side effects?
Illnesses that provoke secondary expressions of violence, scatology or other dementia deepen the horror, widen the suck of the spinning drain of death. When multiple careers of morbidity overlap, especially in a close social network, death can stomp up and down, a sticking period key, a repeating decimal of dead.

Why do they keep them so long, and wouldn't it be more merciful to kill them immediately?
Well, the fact is that if push came to shove and we'd have to admit it, we kinda like having them around for as long as we can. It's like sitting on yr balls. We grow accustomed to their valiant little defiances; their quirky pronouncements and curses; their cute, spirited jabs from the sidelines. We know how under-it-all dependent they really are on our goodwill, and that makes us fuzzy.

What is your view on the abolition of Blood Sac?
It seems to keep people calm, especially the young mothers for some reason. Nobody needs to say a word, as long as we know it's happening and we can go to see for ourselves whenever we want. In fact, I hear they've been poorly attended of late. Sure, the opposition pretty much gave up after they couldn't get a retraction on the Sac they did on that what was her oh Chang K. Chang. That was because she was such a beloved living maiden that for her to "only milk Mthyuh in hell always" indicated selfishness on the part of the Preservation Society and maybe even envy slippin out some of the high preistesses while we know that's just potty. It's a controversy of the past, certainly. Today's worshiper is just bored with it. It may eventually be won by the inane above humane, as they say. It's all about cultural stewardship for me, and that's what I've shown you crossing over. I say get in my boat and I'll take you there and now here we are. Now there's someone can bring you on to the next big bend.

Tom
CEO, Pharmsupply
A Year to Another Year

Windy Mouth of Mthyuh

Looking into her, there is mostly paste of fog, not her breath. Her steam/ perspiration. There are legends that explain all that. Then over to the right is Shame of Mthyuh, where her "spittle" is released in an ever-humbling reminder of her own giddy stupor of imminence. This is a noxious mix of sulfur and molten aluminum. But then towering above, as balance, or ballast, are the famous Pride of Mthyuh, the t-chanks. They really seem to say, "I'm all that." And if you don't think so, howbouda dubba-berra? Others have posited that these chanks, like their many cousins in the region, are really the petrified guano towers of now-extinct salty lake queen cranes or monarcas d'ensalago. The last known queen was shot near the Nevada border after her dizzyingly metallic sheen and spirited aggressiveness became part of a 1950's ufo mixup.

These hovel-hived hills building gradually to reveal the truly terrifying gape of the Mthyuh Centre site are so full of history and tradition, which has almost always been a tradition of history, that history itself seems to have left its proverbial wheel ruts in the winding, postcard rack-lined stone walks. Surely the movements of these, each speckled warm litter, scarcely more than temporary stewards of this obscene rendering, by nature, of nature's own truth and who have long since been ground themselves to dust by her avenues, having taken the tinjid waters from baptismal to dethbed spongebath-- are as real now as time itself, if not more. If not more.

The Brutal Snake Charmer

The brutal snake charmer's wife made out a shopping list:

craving
craving w/ anger
fear @night
holding breath
burning shame
tense
shame
resolve
shame
surrender
sadness
sleepy
morbid ideation
headache
craving

They danced while he scared everyone to death.

Another white woman came here, face of trajedy. I tell you I take yor trajedy an jor watch, Reptilly say. They leave der loved ones feed of Mthyuh, come back down alone, one less. They wander up a street looking for food with a credit card. They step from a cab in big sunglasses, being strong.

He sons are stammering slaves. Only she can run him. Now she become a deity and leave him broken selling hairs from her brush as souvenier.

All about the Chilluns

The Sacrament of Blood was a loving rite, and everyone agreed about that cep f'the po muthya fo who they end up serving your kids for deena. It draws us together at this lean time of year and reassures us about our values: s'really all about the chilluns, idnit? We a famly, and this is a way i can give back to them every year. They hongry. We share in the joy and the bounty with all of our favorite neighbors and family members. Our co-worshippers. You allow us to see ourselves in God's own perpective: those who are not you. So, Hoolie: we congratulate you for this honor we are about to feed you on behalf of da Mthyah. She is soothed in your pain. We will sing along to it so you know that we are with you. That our love is with you, Hoolima. Ho-Hoolima, hoo-loo-loo-li-li-ma-ma.

1 hour. hoolie screaming
1 moment. steel blades sliding
baby crying
crowds erupting, cutlry
place settings slammed down
like an uptown diner, echo;
some famly members
understandibly disconsolate
in the counseling chamber.

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.

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.

"Ingesting Resources and Giving Back on the Community"

Sylvia comes home puts on some spooky music and stares into a candle.
This is the me that i am; ingest me Mthyuh so that no more may suffer.
Yalalahalala. Ya [etc.]
Have we not fed you our poor our most outspoken. Yahalalalahalala. [etc.]
They who want to live no more, we let you have them Muhalalalahuthyuh. [etc]
[etc.] Then you spit them back up on our Welcome stone: nuf of the Othyuh, Muthyuh.

Time is a Liar

Tom thought he might have mono [nucleosis]. His emotions seemed to have escaped from his nervous system/soul/whatever into the physical organ. "Everyone's trapped in a capsule," he theorized. It's comforting when you think the odds are against you. To remember that we are all the unhatched eggs of Mthyuh. Everyone has to see out their eyes and hear with their ears and digest their own food. Everyone has to dread getting in the shower some days because you don't know what you'll see next.

20457823489Delicious baby goat

Missive just coming in: Latest Braino victim, distraught, tells doctor tearfully, "Well just get rid of it then! Get rid of it! Oh my God Mthyuh mia boo hoo hoo."

Truth not Therapeutic

In another protest against "changing times," a group of High Shivites claiming to be descendant from the first priests to hang the first WD back in 01 threw themselves into Kareer-Kesh, one of Mthyuh's most active mosh pits, and of course as well to their own deaths. For them, the scientific truths unearthed by recent double-blind scholarship into the causes of Mthyuh, her tremors, and the nature of our Earth's troubled core in general had been too much to take, especially when presented as some kind of advancement. "This is like raping a virgin as a way to prove her inimaculacy," postulated Priest-Forward Esogh Ilyn, whose red afro caused many onlookers to comment that he resembled a flaming white cannonball as he hurdled into the mouth of the holy death gorge this morning.

Mthyuh Pariah

My very existence is pornographic to you. It's me you want to stamp out.

When I started to become sticky eight years ago, no one minded when my clothing clung because they thought it would bring tourist revenue. Now that we are in quarantine, you want to cast me out in the only way possible: by mouth.

Por la boca, I shall not be intimidated by your dirty-minded desire to put me on stage as your bottom bitch for blood sacrifice. We all know that shivweek may never come again. But for the masses, torture is more satisfying than death. So you keep me alive until I'm spent and no longer pretty. Well, I've taken care of that. I have sticky progeny all over this county. Both the sticky daddy as well as my self have had lots to do with births in many households, and in all walks of life. And you will not be able to use viable DNA sampling methods for many hundreds of years. You will only discover our work by the sticky messes popping up right and left. And by the way. I am a lesbian.

Peggy

Dear Peggy

Peggy Smith?

Fuck you. Get out of my face.

That's your attitude. But we have taken control of your will chemically. You will answer our questions with the utmost sincerity.

Suck my ass.

Peggy Smith, why do your parents anger you so?

My parents anger me so, asshole, because they disrespected my intelligence enough to give me nothing to get by in life with except some shitty fairy tale about a volcano goddess. So fuck off.

We know that you'd like nothing more than to put your head in your mother's lap and weep.

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!! SUCK MY DICK!!

So we've asked your mother to come in.

I don't know who you are. I don't know if you are a person and that's your real voice or if you are a recording of a real voice or if you are a machine with a synthetic voice, but I swear to Mthyuh I will find you and destroy you or die gratefully trying.

Your mother is waiting in the next cavern. You may proceed through the hanging beads to your left.

You don't know me at all.

"Mexican Bean Beetle"

The most likely explanation seems that by jumping, the bean will move itself into a safe place where the larva can relax, pupate and undergo the miracle of metamorphosis ready to continue the life cycle.

Please remember to kill and/or capture and report any new, mutated, or previously extinct species to the Mthyuh Guardian Society, especially if aggressive.

http://www.insectlore.com/xlorepedia_stuff/jumpingbeanmoth.html

Chang K. Chang

OK everyone. We're gonna have a drill on what happens if we for some reason lose access to the pollsticks. I know it's hard to imagine a scenario where we would both lose access to the pollsticks and be compelled to continue on with a class session because would there be power anyway and would people be too upset but here we are.

Instead of thumbing the red button, you are going to have to turn your head left, then right repeatedly until I've been able to visually record everyone's primitive answer.

Instead of knuckling the green button, just lift and then lower the head-- again, please don't stop until I have made what we'll call "eye contact" so that both you and I know that I have manually registered your primitive answer.

First question. Should they stop Shiv Sack Week just because we liked Chang K. Chang and she got sacrificed this WD. Instead of intensified gender expression, we can only think of Chang K. Chang and how she brightened our lives and how Mthyah already had many Hell Daughters to milk her. Yes or no. Respond now please.

County Coyote Encounters Explode for Shivweek

Unusually high number of attacks during and around Shivweek is giving locals in the Olde Mthyah and Cliff Estates homelands the "shivers."

* Man bitten by coyote while sleeping on lawn (2:45 PM)

* Man bitten by coyote while sleeping on lawn (4 PM)

* Man was stalked, then attacked by two coyotes, and bitten on ankle (Early evening, daylight)

* Coyote attacked and killed pet dog in man’s presence; coyote would not leave (Morning)

* 54-year-old woman fought, using an axe handle, with a large coyote that had attacked small poodle in back yard. Received bite on leg, and despite her efforts, the coyote killed the poodle and jumped over fence carrying the carcass (4:30 PM)

* Man walking encountered 4 coyotes, which crouched, circling him, attempting to attack. Fought off with walking stick, hitting one square across the face (Morning)

* Coyote on golf course ran up to woman, jumped on her back, and bit her on right forearm (Daytime)

* Woman walking 2 large dogs accosted by 3 coyotes; fell backward and fended coyotes off.

* Coyote came into residence to attack small pet dogs.

If you see a coyote stalking your pet, yell and throw rocks at the coyote. Take your pet indoors.

Remember to report any signs of rabid animal activity or steam rising from open ventricles in the desert floor to Mthyuh Guardian Society, especially after a temblor.

http://www.laalmanac.com/environment/ev15c.htm

animated gif of his face replaced with jesus's during lightning

Again, the priests reminded them the end was near. Shu Volcano was rumbling in the near distance as if pleased after the meal of virgins and handicapped.

We wondered if previous generations had felt as though they walked in a dream of imminent destruction. The bones tasted good.

Reptily, our Persian maid, hit the gong with a pig's skull on a stick. "Time for prayer!" You couldn't even argue with slaves when it came to P time. She shrieked as if it were raining liberty coins. We considered beating her after the second bell, but most of us fell asleep during Promise of Blood and woke with our faces in our Ga bowls after the lizards had shifted well behind the smoke stain.

It was still true. The keepers had spelled it simply in Tu vines hanging from their cliff loft: "we die. "