(no subject)

There's something wonderful about reading Marx in the middle of the Cambridgeside Galleria.

your love is like a shab-al-hiri all of the time

I know I've posted this before. I don't care. Because a day without ninjas, flying choirboys, and young men prancing around in fur speedos undulating at Bonnie Tyler is like a day without pancakes: acceptable but hardly ideal.

I also offer an alternate: kung fu laser cowboys on unicorns.