Years ago someone shared this online and I don’t think the information is correct after it was published: (special for me because I’m also “Jeffrey“)

American “Amazon” (AA) I went to A.A. twice to quit all alcohol in 2016 when sifting thee newspaper, having subscribed to “The Journal” of Wall Street (WSJ) in the mail and I would only read the first page, the covers, to learn so much, that I told my Mom canceled it after I’d received many deliveries when they amounted to only a temporary ownership on my part, so sugary tart, yes, me being smart and smart enough to have recollections of meeting Elon Musk at not one restaurant, but TWO, and then once a man who’s friend owned a Lamorghini Gallardo said, to me, “Hi I’m Elon Musk, do you know who I am?” And I replied, “YOU’RE NOT ELON MUSK! I KNOW ELON MUSK!” when the man dressed up, he said to me, “Yeah I’m not really Elon Musk, but how do you know him?????”

Playing pleasure on the starry-eyed Sun of God with the implantation of moderately sidicously correct with SIDS in the laying slunder of SLUMBER when the tree’s-men (or tree’s man…) says, “Hear hear, right here I announce to all of the frenzied-future forest creatures, “TIMBER!” and so down falls a tree in the Summer for a suprise, of light, and from up above where only the “cawk-a-doodle-doozie” says the Iron Model of a stapled stack of papers, spread in ink and quilted with Bologna and Full-Stomach Folgers instant- effin — coffee in your cup when you say who’s going to provide a comfy bed-ridden bed Rest to compete with only the best, to win, merely bearded teens laughing it off, after class, and winking at the girl, the lass, the object of Junior Joe’s urban schmoes sickly unkempt when the school cafeteria runs out of cheese for the sang-which-es

But now for something completely different… and that makes sense:

Calling the Cab of what is also known as a “T-A-X-I” to pick up “Cabot Goat Cheese” — because oh please, smear that paste, on a big ol’ bagel to skip to a mushroom Truffle, and the Grandpa does a “shuffle” in his “NeXT STeP” on the Stairway, to upsteers, but not for the queers of a queer “society” Them the best members of bringing back the Queenie Weinzenberg with no red wine, so not to be spilled on a dress or khaki’s or white shoes, but taking the nude pictures to an M-T bathroom, and to lock the doors for The Mores in a History II (A) pain in the ass reading what has already happened with Politicians in Power, that, I, haven’t exercised lately-  my body is thin, and I don’t have a gut or camel-toe showing showed shone -ness all bright and shiny, I am skinny mini-shorter than years ago when I stood so tall — they had to shrink my legs and arms, but my heart is strong and really keeping TICKING — Toodly honored height and high above, flying winter chilled wings to the South, I sip seltzer, lemon its flaccid flavor, erected and the cans rinsed and Recycled so as not to be rude, with “Toodly” with the Duster years ago with household products and junkies abandoning bodily sense, that is, not to ingest anything “Toxic” who but Britney Spears, her tales, her absense of the limelight when years ago our screens would blind bright with her boobs and that Sultry (but not “slutty” ever!) stammered tectonic dinner plates of, oh Joe Partlow, what’s the haps?, the paparazzi B. Spears hates so goddamn greatly she would even shave her head of all hair, when you get older it disappears (so it’s not there…) down the drainer with the mustache ashes scattered in the Stink of a scuttlebutt so WHIM-siccle to suckie-suckie blow the red, white, and blue popsicle, for you to embrace the chilled teeth (and don’t forget the 30% Carbamide Peroxide whitener…) when one sings in the shower at, for me, usually a late hour and to snooze vividly vaccinated with 2 Boosters and another one, a Vaccine “Booster” awakening the Rooster to Call a Doctor’s Doodle with the Prescription Pad with papers for the birthday-snackers, attached to the time and attacked by the nearing of one’s finest final breathing into the lungs to be vanquished of stinky smoke the cigarrettes—I “NOPE!” — so as only to indulge on the tobacco only on occasion of the smooches determination to flex my skill in Investing, and amassing the reinforcements of MAGNUM “protrection” I mean “protraction” in the force of a Tractor mowing hay that’s my jigga-jigga “wrist action” of a video-based and loving “Protection” of The Pandemic world-wide with short-strides tingling a tid-bit the toesies require “Mr. Scholl’s showing shot-up shoe LIFTS” when I’m at the gym and yeah my friend Vitalik Buterin — I talked to him on the phone — he said he belonged to a gym but he’s scrawny, scrub with Brawny the quarters of fabric, in squares, because, trust me, when you spill that milk out da fridge, you’ll “Care” enough to wipe that shit up

I’m coming classy and sitting on the cushion (with skinny jeans on…) I’m sitting on my ASS, at last after climbing the stairs so often, now and then, when grab a pen and put “Diet Mountain Dew” on your shopping list and know-  this Diet soda, I fill my stomach with it, so my belly Fo’  Sho’ yeah sipping sarcastic OFF THE RIFF of a craft to lend a mention to my favorite finesse “Step Mom” with the noted dedication to Diet soda swilling bubbly instead of still (years ago I owned http://www.stillchillen.com) with what is said of beverages, you’re now reading my words, so thanks for LENDING me your stewardship with my shattered left hip in 7 pieces, oh ouch, sitting my couch on a caught-up catch with Brad (Pitt) and his bulbous front-side “crotch” with a balanced banked-up blanket to… in dreams… TO *FLY* AND IN THE SKY, AND HIGH UP HEIGHTS OF JOLLY-RIGHTS and the Holy night of New Years Eve, that time is important and crucial, Krusty, but not to me as I sleep not so much and sometimes in the day, that I remember months ago I would sleep until 4 pm late afternoon I would arise from bed and tired-ly on 4 tires, 4 wheels, feel the feels of me tinkle-tinkle peeping in the sink!

So as not to stink…

With what the bunch of Hawaiian Tropic at Hot Topic to be discussing the this me cussing with Jarden Kushner filling the news and lighting up the news, to you, for shiggitty Ocean Pacifica roaming drifters by the Jane Doe dozens of bunches of Hawaiian PUNCH -es  that I implore you, to you, to you, you know? Fo’ Sho’