Somewhere, somehow, they all got chewed up an spit back out, and the don't taste like living anymore. Don't you see what it's like in this diranged blender blaring of a world, every day is an agonizing ordeal, like balancing a pot of scalding water on your head while people whip your legs and butt... ahh you never forget your senior prom.

you think i'm sick, well the only disease i've got is modern life, a shunt busting gauntlet of inefficiency and misery thats one long, parade of left downs, put downs, trickle downs shut outs, freeze outs, sellouts numb nuts, nincompoops and nimrods, all making every day as fun as waxing a flaming Pontiac with your tongue.

Where even if you do luck into the possibility of some fleeting pleasure, like say if some nymphomania telephone operators with the muscle control of romainan mad slapper, agree to a little strip air hockey, it'll be over before it starts. Cause some foul lacking fodder wreaking cab jockey slams his checker up your hatch back, and the cab is owned by some pinata spanker from a Santeria cult from Wacompa. Who starts shaking chicken bones at ya and gives you a boil on your neck so big, all it needs is Michael Jordan's autograph to make it complete.

And even with all this, all this i still drag my sorry butt off the sealy every morning and stick my face in the reaping machine for one more day, knowing when it's time to flash the cosmic card key at the pearly gates. I wont be in a coffin anyway, cause some under handed undertaker, sold my heart, precarious, and other assorted good and plenty to that same Santeria cult.

So does anybody, really wonder why anybody, is hanging onto sanity by the atoms on the tips of their fingernails, while life dirty dances on their digits,

and is it any wonder why i seem diranged...

ORIGINAL: EH3_Project

Good ole Duckman. I haven't watched an episode in years. It use to come on late at night on Teletoon here in Canada.