The sound of greatness has descended upon our pierced eyes, now we must learn to hear. I can see it in the sun because someday I know we will all be hip hop stars. Grown down, not up, to smash the system like Kurt Cobain's guitar. It's raw, like a corporate sponsorship at a presidential election. Information has grown up to resemble a fucking NASCAR track. Stephen Colbert parodied this with one of America's favorite snacks. Even our poor are so fucking fat, our nation takes one and a half seats on British Airways. Fuck, get your red, white, and blue flabby ass out of my transatlantic airspace... my elbows need room to throw a fist in the air and your man-tits are worse than turbulance, I've got to hold up my fury and rage, I'm being blocked by fat patriots and Doritos ads. But thanks again for the inspiration today.

This has been a test of the not-quite-an-emergency-but-still-pretty-fucking-urgent blogging system. Brought to you by your not-so-local-and-very-pissed-off dissedents of SMUG.

From Salalah, Oman

Ma'a salaama