You said you sent something to AAJ? No? You mean all that lovely spray is going unrepported to the masses? It's just floating around in the limbo of two brains, undisseminated to the masses. OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO!!!!
Okay back to the topic, doesn't anyone care that the hardman genre of reporting is slipping away and getting pussified?
"Back of Beyond" all started when Druid Spractshed told me to go do some stupid horn up the Nahatlatch. Being his bitch, I automatically went. Mike and I were pounding pretty heavy the night before, Pabst, I think, and Drool's horn was a regular piece of shit, but then we saw in our hazy hangovers THE CLIMB TO MAKE "DANGEROUS DUNG BUILDUP" REALLY SORRY HE TAUNTED US! I think I had fruitloops for breakfast and the sky was a wonderful shade of orange in that beautiful time in September. Ah, they call this the magic hour. Morning not quite over, the day not quite begun, and somewhere out there Scott Baio was plowing a woman he didn't love.
The dust on the road was stirring meditatively as we trod down the road to meet the hunchback of the man working on the machinery . . . . blah, blah, blah, endless pussified drivel