Stories and Mother-Fucking Fairy Tales

I have a Cornish Pixy's go-cart on my shelf. Want to see it?

I can eject gold Dubloons from my backside. Would you like one?

How about a diamond instead?

In a former life, my name was Zphendor, that's pronounced like END-ore. I lived on the planet Nahbesh, with my lithe fertile queen who, through sturdy, repeated copulations with me, brought into our world many fine sons. They each had a single eye like their mother's.

Oh, and, in case you were wondering, BP announced they are collecting literally thousands and thousands of gallons of oil from that papier mache looking device they've fitted over the 21 inch riser pipe.

Be not alarmed in the fact that this thing, whatever Christ-fuck, it is, continues to belch and billow black bile around the edges like a busted sewer main in downtown Manhattan on a bad day.

Be not suspicious in the fact BP was issuing nonsense almost immediately concerning the fact the riser would somehow miraculously - against known principals of hydraulics, fluid dynamics, common sense - begin to gush MORE effluent into the sea, merely because the riser pipe that had fallen over was now gone from the scene.

Ask not this question "Genius, explain how the oil reservoir down deep in earth's bowel, and stuffed with billions of gallons, begins pushing MORE volume up an 18k foot shaft, simply because you tore away a 5k foot section of pipe?"

Be not suspicious of the fact that now, since this contraption, whatever in bleeding fuck they are calling it these days, is now over the end of the 21 inch pipe, no one can get a clear view of said pipe to adequately calculate the flow rate.

Nevermind that the paramecium-brained members of the media have not thought to ask for a "hold up" just a minute, at the very crucial and potentially revealing moment of said liberation of severed riser pipe, sans contraption, to better get an idea precisely how much oil was flowing, so as to multiply this huge figure by the number of days that have stretched like eons into the dim distant past so that we all can better understand, precisely, or even ballpark, how much black goo is out there.

Be not the least bit alarmed that fucking - JESUS-WEPT - NO ONE is asking this very salient question.

But we do know Tony Fucking Hayward and co. have purchased the word "oil" from Google as a search term. So that now, when even you attempt to go to the internet to make some sense of all this, you are directed to BP's dog-barfing homepage.

Cheers!