1) The Insane Clown Posse's word for "heaven" in their music. A utopia you go to after you die.
2) A place where everyone lives in racial harmony.
3) A place where women, however, are still referred to as "bitches".
I walk in, it's Shangri-la everything I dreamed of
Everybody and they momma got clown love
Japanese, Lebanese, and Chinese,
Portuguese, and southwest ghetto g's. (woowoo)
Hangin' out with redneck truck drivers
Instead of always givin' each other piledrivers
I see my old homie, he died in a drag
Chillin with two bitches, 'Whatup, Shaggs?'
--From the song "Pass me by" off of 'The Great Milenko'
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A liar.
Bob said he was a "social smoker" and we all knew he was a liar.
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A black, cubical, electronic "box". One side of this cube is however, bot black, but a clear "screen". When this electronic box is activated or "turned on", it flashes towards the "viewer" various images and sounds. These images and sounds are usually either fabricated in a "studio" or coming "live" from a very different place than the viewer is sitting on the couch and watching/hearing them.
Critical Thought sold separately.
Damn, New Years Eve fucking sucked. I sat in my apartment all alone and watched the idiot box until passing out at 2AM.
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The dudes who go through your fridge without asking.
The dudes who smile as they call you a bitch or a dumbass.
The dudes who kick you when youâre down.
The dudes who tell you to âsnap out of itâ when youâre really down.
The dudes who ride with you âtill the motherfuckinâ end.
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1) A period of time when a writer's mind is completely blank and drained of any kind of inspirational essence. They are unable to write. They start to bang their head against the basement wall. It bleeds. They scream and shout in agony. And finally, they pray that the pain from this blunt physical trauma and the sight of the sweet sweet catalytic blood finally gives them SOME kind of weak-ass idea.
2) Something that I never seem to have really. Hence why the above scenario was purely speculation on my part. I can't help but imagine however, that is somewhat similar to Dante's second level of hell.
Hey man, I have writer's block. Any advice?
"How about slitting your throat?"
"Okay, cool. Thanks!" *slits throat*
"uhh.. whoops. I kinda meant that as in writing a poem or short story or something about slitting your throat. Or maybe an essay about suicide. My bad."
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Something that a lot of people refuse to give.
Person: "I could give two shits.."
Me: "But you won't, huh?"
Person: "Nope!"
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Billy: Can I get you anything to drink? A soda, maybe?
Bob: Huh? Whatâs soda?
Billy: Itâs slang for pop. We say it a lot in these parts.
Bob: Oh, okay. Sure, I'll have a pop.
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