http://www.2moksha.com/fuck_you.htm
We shall take the above as axiomatic.

The following doesn't necessarily represent 2.Moksha or its

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Q: I am dying. What can I do?

A:

Proudly submit the punch line. "Let's hear it!" Masses of people come to fuck the spirit driven from the gutters in 1877 (cut most extensively in Europe 1848). The fever just never broke. This is the punch line.

Memorial Services-the Talk of the Town. "Conviction" politicians. Fun!
The fever just never broke.

"What an Extraordinary Man!" "What an Extraordinary Time!" "What an Extraordinary Story!" The fever just never broke.

However, it really is okay to respect somebody.

Drooling rumors, mud in the drainpipes, New Yorkers' Louis Vuitton watches and, scene-stealing newspaper elbowed the prospect out of the crystal cage, and, and, and, and, my idea of heaven, MY–…the fever just never broke.

What's wit is how Polonius asserts "brevity is the soul of wit" amidst an endless speech.

Wanting to belong to the overwrought, to that exotic plastic, to the seamless svelte young mods, to escape immunity…. The fever just–

It is exactly what humor leaves unsatisfied that is written in the chickenlike gestures of the human s—-fuck! The joke also helps us to laugh, goddammit! Shut up!! But–!! Split. 2.

Moksha




But the fever just never broke.



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