right here!
And with that, off to Fun and Games you go, you who art so dazzling as a pregnant cow attired in electrical sockets! 
Flies dance operas to your wisdom! 
You are as orange as a congeleen afro curled around the bony edges of a silver spoon expressing its innermost desires for a lime-based detergent.
You salivate strongly, like a platoon of army engineers trapped in a fit of malaria.
Vomit.
Miss.
Bucket.
o’ Swill!
The seared runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous cardinals setting a Spanish villa ablaze.
You really are a complete and utter fucking twit.
Did I do it right?
Your soul contains all that is found in insects, pigs and vermin.
Villon, Celine, Hamsun, and Hasek are twisting & turning in their very graves.
Why we need a generator?
Them bones’s wordz are light enough…
without even mentioning certain limp-wristedness!