When you want something that ascends, you lay down some Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. “Mexican Shuffle” to be exact. When you want to give it some New York hip hop street smarts, you mash it up with Jay-Z. “Lucifer” to be exact. It’s only sensible. With that, enjoy responsibly.
They say the truth hurts. With that in mind, set Iphone to 9-1 and let’s go to that land of pain. You, we all are mortal idiots with an indefinite expiration date. Along the way, we’re going to succumb-a to the rumba of sin. It’s inevitable, so it is necessary to pave a road of forgiveness. The Catholics call it confession, the North Koreans call it aiding and abetting, the Spaniards call it a reason for an inquisition, and I call it catharsis.
He was barely cloaked for this sort of weather, and he was miserable. It was rain versus his stubborn brow and forehead, and damn it, he was going to win. But how can one be victorious in a meaningless battle? Especially if the enemy is unaware of being the enemy. For all anyone knew, the rain was merely parallel playing. It’s not like weather has logical emotional patterns. It is no-nonsense, matter-of-fact, straight-up science. Meteorology to be more exact.
Let me make this perfectly clear. Superman is a big hunk of bunk. He is a bogus piece of garbage foreigner from the planet Krypton, the worst kind. He goes around and tells everyone that will listen that the reason he adopted a secret identity was to honor his Earth parents, Ma and Pa Kent.