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Saturday, December 04, 2004


When someone tells me that he or she is celebrating the solstice, I rarely laugh out loud. But I always want to, because what do they think they're doing? Savages.

I kid, I kid. Please come over for my solstice party. We will stand outside in the asscold freezescape and read a few lines from Aleister Crowley’s work, Hoocarez Ahboutathis. Everyone will praise suntans. Then, we’re off to the Great Indoors to tap the Michelob keg that Dead Todd left behind after the Samhain bash.


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