Fish! Fresh fish... OH, you're awake. Let me just turn the siren down a moment. And these heat lamps have certainly gotten a touch warm.
Greetings from the latter half of the first half of the first decade of 2000s. If you've stumbled upon this blog, clearly, you're a fool or the person who sent you here was a fool AND is no friend of yours. There is but one purpose to this electronic notepaper, magnet and fridge set... and that is to wring all manner of meaning from these helpless letters that we've assembled into "words" and "phrases" (rest his soul).
Oh, this is indeed but a smattering of the vocabularic carnage to come. A rude and randy shadow of the true sham to roll out. For the most part, The Rubber Bomb takes pride in selectively, surgically and slowly (oh, my stars S-L-O-W-L-Y) handcrafting it's melange of blathering into a nearly impenetrable wall of words. Not so this outing. Perhaps the more horrific realization, is that this offensive offering is off-the-cuff.
If you cannot understand, consider it an affirmation of your solid mental fortitude. If you cannot abide, take it as a vote of confidence on your good taste. If you cannot care less, consider yourself among the higher percentile of humans who choose (and wisely so) to turn away from what they consider to be worthless wordsmithing. Without worth and with words, we are. Join us again, will you not?
Grazing towards greatness,
Werner von Bounce