I'm A Bit Retarded, Like Most Americans.

The Wallpaper With Which The Men Of Science Have Covered The World Of Reality Is Falling To Tatters. The Grand Whorehouse Which They Have Made Of Life Requires No Decoration; It Is Essential That Only The Drains Function Adequately. Beauty, That Feline Beauty That Has Us By The Balls In America, Is Finished.

They Were Painfully Clean. But Inwardly They Stank. Never Once Had They Opened The Door Which Leads To The Soul; Never Once Did They Dream Of Taking A Blind Leap Into The Dark.

The Light Of Greece Opened My Eyes, Penetrated My Pores, Expanded My Whole Being.

I'd Rather Sit Down And Write A Letter Than Call Someone Up. I Hate The Telephone.

Everybody Says Sex Is Obscene. The Only True Obscenity Is War.