Hello, you bastards. I am here to present you with a story. One day when I was playing with my Ron Popeil food dehydrater, it occured to me: you all suck. How's that for a story? I've got another one. Dear everyone, you suck. How's that? Have you ever heard the expression, "suck the shit out of my ass?" Just wondering.
From "Der Springer."
I am proud to present Letters From Andy, an ever-expanding resource compiling the correspondence and erotic fiction of a gentleman considered by a privileged few to be both the Henry Miller and the William S. Burroughs of central Pennsylvania. Not for the humorless, not for the weak of heart, and not safe for work.
Some recent highlights:
Spasm, a rumination on the legacy of Allen Ginsberg
The confessional Hey.
Smoke, Poisoned Freedom, Diseased Tongues Of Lies, a poetic critique of George W. Bush.
A Special Night With The Family Dog, the story of a boy screwing his family dog.
Please tell your nastier, more seasoned peers about the delicious work of this undiscovered literary genius.