Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
"Hige sceal þe heardra, heorte þe cenre, mod sceal þe mare, þe ure mægen lytlað…"
Mars needs armed women!
I don't suppose there' any way to vector those searches to the Violence Policy Center, is there?
But -- we're all enslaved to the alien's dreams! I read about it in an L. R-n H-bbrd book,* so it must be true!________________* Slaves Of Sleep, written before he started all that stuff that made him rich, reclusive and so on.
That's not one of her dreams, that's one of her fantasies. :PWord verification "fhahnr". Isn't that the name of the guy in one of the Steve Martin movies?
They're probably looking for this.
Wait, these are aliens. No sandbags, though.
Must be those electric boobs.
rob k: Daaayum:"Enslave me, baby, enslave me!"
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