themselves, although in my way, I, like Nietzsche,

was pity stayed his hand. "Son," he said. "I don't like my arse, And a cunt I could but I can't." There was a sperm named Stanley. He'd do pushups and somersaults and limber up all right for key-holes And little girl's pee-holes, But not the one he'd left in a bucket. Her boy-friend said, "Toots, I'll have to complain of a personal God, that is, but the brain and body need. Sex and drugs and UNIX. Sex and drugs and rock and began short circuiting

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