"On another message board site I read occasionally I saw a thread which was basically just one long sentence, started by one person and continued by everyone else, so I decided to try that here -- since this crowd seems the type who would probably enjoy that sort of thing -- to see where it goes, or if anyone is really even interested, though if they're not I'll be quite disappointed, especially since all small woodland animals must be roasted at 500 degrees farenheit, unless of course that you want to par-boil them in an eight quart pot, which would require higher amounts of the cationic surfactant ceytl-pyridinium to be exchanged onto to the clay surface, that is if you could get enough of it to stick, considering the fact that the Van der Waals forces between the alkyl chains have to overcome the repulsive forces of the positively charged quarternary ammonium mioety, which in turn off-sets the negative charge of the clay particle's surface, due to the isomorphic substitution of metals (silica for alumina, iron for silica) within the aluminosilicate lattice, a primary feature of this family of phyllosilicate clay minerals, in comparison to beating them with a stick and just throwing them in the pot, thus pulverizing the bones, cartilage, and brain tissue, which is inadvisable because animals have rights too, and we must not neglect to remember that while we're roasting various members of PETA over a spit, just like we must not forget to use liberal amounts of A1, since they're usually quite gamey, owing to the fact that animal rights activists spend the greater part of their lives in the company of feral animals, seemingly to protect them, but more often than not simply to vie for their sexual favours due to their innante misanthropy, which, is widely known, is the cause of their inability to relate to any species that has the ability to argue with them or speak for themselves and while this certainly doesn't make them inedible, the flavour of PETA members is slightly less "chickeny" than the flavour that cannibals have long professed that humans taste of, and this was of course documented by Eddie Izzard in a segment of his HBO special 'Dress To Kill' and while that segment was not more than three minutes of the whole show, tops, three minutes is a long time because in three minutes, it is possible to skeletonize a cow if you are one of the deadly mutant land-piranha that roam northern Tennessee and have killed 32 people, including bother and sister Bobby Lee and Jenny Mae Sheridan, who were in quite a pickle because the rabbit died, which meant that the aforementioned PETA representatives were in quite a tizzy, which is quite funny to watch really, because PETA members in a tizzy are quite like chickens with their heads cut off, and that's not only ironic but titillating, as many of them threw off their clothes and shouted, 'We'd rather go naked than wear fur,' in voices that resembled Gilbert Gottfried in the love-frenzied grip of a mentally handicapped hippopotamus on speed, which you can easily purchase for a very reasonable price at K-mart, but you have to look for the blue light special otherwise you will be arrested under suspicion of being a terrorist, and you will be given a sensual massage by Condoleezza Rice, who will then tie you to the bed, slather you with beef blood, and glide her hand down to your favorite installment of Final Fantasy, number six to be exact, a game which features naked dancing wombat-like creatures; but despite such peculiarities, the game is solid, except when it comes to some bad English to Japanese translations, such as the phrase that, in Tokyo colloquialism, means 'friends of light and harmony', but was errantly translated into English as 'thin sexual partners with nice sets of racks on them', which coincidently, in France, is the name of a rock band, whose trademark is a star, inside a piece of fruit, within a black hole, on top of the portwine stain of Mikhail Gorbachev, who recently was taken into custody because he was caught stark naked outside the Today Show studio's shouting, 'KATIE YUO LITLE HORE ITS TIME FOR UNCUNSENTOAL SEX SO I WILL RAPP YOU!!!' while dancing madly to the hypnotic beat of a person in a purple dinosaur costume singing 'I love you, you love me' until he is clubbed like a baby seal and you decide to crawl out of the gutter, brush yourself off, and flush the heroin out of your system with a bottle of Mad Dog so that you'll be presentable when the martians finally show themselves to you in their true form as...
