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[16 Jun 2009|12:41am] |
[This post was made with the assistance of Dictaphone 9000! Dictaphone 9000, of presidential importance!]
[ELE]
let ol' grindhouse mccoy if the competition gets to lookin' a mite too tough. they don't call me grindhouse for nothin', they don't.
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[05 Jun 2009|10:01pm] |
[This post was created using DICTAPHONE 9000! Dictaphone 9000 has no new updates to announce, but would nonetheless like to announce something in a HAVE A NICE DAY.]
trade school musical is approachin' fast on lickety-split-quick weasel feet. look behind you fast as you can and you might catch a flicker of a glimpse, but it ain't enough to give you a clear warning. not enough to prepare. now i do my theater like i do my huntin' for hatfields: 99 per-cent sleepin' with one eye cracked open, one per-cent maneuver an' strike. brethren: keep your eyes, your eyes, an' your nostrils open for them weasels. gotta have the edge on the competition. weasels is cute but vicious, cutthroat little critters. remember that.
now, anyone know what it's gon' be this year?
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[26 May 2009|02:44pm] |
I am Chevrolet Liberty McCoy.
Reveal to me your secrets, Device. Tell me: does Elder Brother have a girlfriend?
You have 60 seconds, or prepare for your imminent destruction. 60, 59, 58...
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[17 May 2009|10:41pm] |
[Rad tip! Dictaphone 9000 can read lips!]
Someone is watching.
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| [CIVIL WAR] |
[01 May 2009|08:54pm] |
[This entry was created with the assistance of DictaPhone 9000! DictaPhone 9000, keeping you up-to-date even when you're back in time!]
apprx. 1500 -- sightin' by Enemy, unarmed and carryin' infant. presumin' disguise is one lady, plus six white kids an' one slave. ain't gonna fly by mr. jones as far is I kin tell.
apprx. 4 minutes later -- shot a rat. basterd is bolder'n a hustler's dick, suggestin' severe poverty or chaos within city. intestines appear clear, suggestin' little to no food intake.
apprx. 1530 -- location confirmed. may 1863. vicksburg mississippi, under siege by mister grant an' the union boys, civil war. epic battle of good versus rebel shitdick fuckheads n' possible beginnin' of feud. wish i had my goddamn fuckin' uniform.
apprx. 1600 -- priorities: 1. disguise. 2. shelter. 3. food (supplies presumably limited). issues: 1. rest of group sound as fuckin' northern as boston cream pie. 2. mr. jones at possible risk for capture or otherwise apprehendin'. 3. city sealed off like a fuckin' balloon, ain't no way to get out and hunt. food sources inside city bound to be a-dwindlin'. 4. don't got no money for new clothes or any of them fancy shit.
conclusion: list of abilities in group: CIVIL WAR would be of help in formulatin' further plan of action.
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[21 Apr 2009|08:21pm] |
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Surgical masks. Rubber gloves. Use your goddamn heads.
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[18 Apr 2009|12:48am] |
[Note: This document was created using DictaPhone 9000. DictaPhone 9000: speaking up for you, when you can't! **THIS VERSION OF DICTAPHONE 9000 WAS AUTOMATICALLY UPDATED 4/15/2009, NOW INTERPRETING MODERN COLLOQUIALISMS AZN - ZOMBIE JESUS**]
WHAT'S ALL THE FUCKIN[G] WHISPERIN[G] ABOUT [?]
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[06 Apr 2009|01:07am] |
Get back, motherfucker
You don't know me like ( that. )
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