[similar contributors as the first part, but i didn't bother to tally it up this time lol]

And so it became known that Cam is hot. So he decided to emulate Cam, but that failed because it's impossible, and because it's obviously a lie formed in the Bizarro World. Therefore, delusions of grandeur, only in Bizarro, correlate notwithstanding of failures to comply. Just then the friction got hot, and he said "why am I fucking a midget?" What if the trilobites were connected with balloons made from Mew songs and cherry cola? Then we'd have a lot more time to think about stuff. Nevertheless I cannot reconcile how much I spend on bitches daily. For the past 20 years I have been trying to get away from the Thought Police. They are closing in under horrible pretense to mess with my bitches. It is tough being so good with nothing and nobody, for real, homiez. Falsified immigration documents always lead me to suspect Cam, because he's always searching for victims and taking their identifications, never considering the feeling of what it's like to make a failed seduction occur. At the approval of the Senate special committee on Competitive Dick Sucking and Cum Guzzling, I declare today all competitive dick enhancement must not take place in vats of excrement. Instead the chosen one of Venice will eat dicks, absorbing their length all the way because nobody does uh uh uh -- Stop! ....Hammer Time! Na na na hey hey goodbye - nobody really does absorb their length leaving pissy YouTube comments for you and nobody else. All they want is to be naked on a comfortable bed with Hulk Hogan's dick in their mouth dick penis cock sperm cunt procreate, damn that was rather profane, sir, said your mother. Can you please leave me alone so I can get some sleep from all the grammatically retarded posts. Beautiful vista views and wild horses beckon me to inject heroin into my favorite turtle to ease his massive sex drive. Don't speak to atheists, they always prefer mental telepathy which is totally gonna rock your rock. Cheese, when rolling back your foreskin, is a delicacy in some children. Speaking from the heart, I give to the Mayans, your favorite racial stereotype, my favorite party costume. Every Christmas I kill 200 elves and keep their cloaks in my dessicated coconut flakes in the birdcage. It's difficult to smash their heads when limbless, bro. And far gone are the endless dreams of ephemeral earthbound pleasure seekers. And gone are the sullen mourners drawn in agony, painting their tears with their own powdered nasal passages. So much lost. Forgotten will be my last orgy, for I was dead, and yet they fucked me. I wasn't sure what they really thought of my being dead as necrophilia is mostly an acquired taste. The frostbitten rabbits weren't bothered by orgiastic displays of blue limbs and brown penises or Margaret Thatcher's corpse. Her sagging, wrinkley merkin-wearing body found salvation in yellow PT Cruisers. When will the more interesting threads ascend again? I hope it's soon. Until then, I'll take the initiative and log out and jerk off. Yellow PT Cruisers [wtf?] also saved my ancient chicken grandpa from the maw of rabid hyraxes singing Boston's "More Than a Feeling," nailing the vocals. The next song the hyraxes sang was Simply Red's "Holding Back the Years." It was a glorious rendition, with kazoos and shit. It reminded Mick Hucknall of prostitutes in Lisbon. With greasy fists they forced him to receive anal from pygmy goats being diminutive animals, relish midget fucking and chocolate sundaes. On a cold afternoon in Sahara, Joe Strummer offered to wax my He-Man action figures. I told him that Moss Man would rather I maintain his moss. So instead we played on Sahara with various butt plugs 'til the moon shone upon my long and gigantic samurai sword. Fucksticks! Twirling tortilla chips in the hallway signaled our doom. While we munched on our enemies' reindeer antler churros they wept for our extinction. The corpses of babies rise and scream and kill all of my dreams about soft and slow smooth jazz, while incessantly crying. I shove saxophones into gym lockers out of sheer dissatisfaction with negative Jello microphone reviews and the Dewey Decimal System. The sycophantic troll dolls laugh at morons. Please, whenever you come across any unemployment benefit application, make sure to forward it to Johannesburg. There you have employment quotas up the ass. If you could find ethnic minorities that are better than overqualified whites to do jobs that are easy, just ignore them. Diggin up Jews is a far cry from digging the Zeitgeist album. Fuck that noise, because it doesn't give me the same throbbing erection as the masterpiece *NSYNC by *NSYNC.