docile raccoons for sale

Looking for that perfect birthday present for your sister's preschooler? Can't think of what to bring to your cousin's wedding? Agonizing over how to bring a smile to your spouse's face? If so, we at Ray B.'s Once-Wild Animal Sanctuaries have just the thing for you! Look no farther than through the steel-wire-mesh fence at our newest batch of docile, panting, oh-so-cuddly raccoons! Each frothy-mouthed beast comes with a pair of thick leather gloves to make handling and petting a safe and fun-filled breeze!

Watch with wonder as these normally-wild animals toddle over and all but lay down at your feet, begging for you to bring your thin-skinned fingers close enough to their mouths for them to bite you. Those little rascals! Their confused and often aggressive antics are sure to light up any stuffy office party, and their sweat-slick pelts all but beg to be washed, combed, and prettied up with lacy, red bows. Have a 'coon-combing party! Dare your friends to pull shiny coins from their pulsating, swollen throats! It's so much fun, we double-dog-dare you to do it.

Dear friends, loyal customers, do not delay further! So come on down to Ray B.'s for a furry little wonder of your own, today. (We also sell docile opossums, befuddled flying squirrels, toddling tree-squirrels, and addled baby deer, all of which come with a pair of thick, Kevlar-lined leather handling-gloves and the telephone number for your nearest infectious-disease clinic.)

場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit

on phaltweariness - the automobile

  Today's city streets are pitted and rough as if mauled by large and powerful beasts, and the souls of the people who drive upon are similarly abused. Aggression and impatience descend without fail upon the poor buggers who drive upon today's maligned avenues.

  We the Smog Riders of the America Phaltscape (the asphalt landscape) look often with pity upon our neighbors of the road, they who spend long hours strapped tightly to chairs which are in turn bolted to the floors of a tiny metal boxes. After spending years in such torturous environments, they will have forgotten the satisfaction of moving their own bodies through space/time using nothing other than living muscle and some metal tubes bolted to a pair of pneumatic tires. Rather than the good sweat that stands upon the skin of the bicyclist after a healthy cross-town slog, the sweat of the car driver will be distressed and foul, an oozing sheen that tends to creep through his furrowed brow as he worries about the skyrocketing price of petroleum.

  The smog riding street-art vagabond knows as well to avoid paying for petrol as she does to remain always vigilant of the withering and debilitating affects of phaltweariness – it is her duty to preserve the chaotic super-abundance of Street Art, and to record for Posterity as much of it as she can. To fulfill this task, and to keep her feet on the pedals, she has learned the limits of her body's tolerance for dehydration, pain, and exhaustion, and she knows how to make herself well again.

  Given the phaltweariness, the stressed out drivers, and the miles spend cycling through the phaltscape, how does the vagabond capture every unique work of street art that is at risk of being torn down as soon as it goes up? She does not. But she does what she can do, photographing what pictures might cross her path with the road grit fouling her mouth and a song filling her heart.

Spes Mea In Ratio Est - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp