Only Elvis Makes Me Laugh
the most frolicsome gallimaufry of varicolored clips, blips, and plonks is nothing if not what its effect is on me, and you?
A plinth plonked in its navel […]
the most frolicsome gallimaufry of varicolored clips, blips, and plonks is nothing if not what its effect is on me, and you?
A plinth plonked in its navel […]
“Only Elvis (battery-acid) Makes Me (Maine) Laugh” a 'killfile' Video by @mrjyn! Subscribe for $1 a week. Ends today. https://t.co/lAsSjwQIMy pic.twitter.com/M4x97OFSNA
— mrjyn (@mrjyn) Abril 1, 2021
from cram meat
where the pillows haven't seen a mint since Dwight David Eisenhower
“Only Lucy in the sky with diamonds Makes Maine Laugh”
“Only Elvis Makes Maine Laugh” by @mrjyn
The main frolicky gallimaufry of varied clips, blips, and plonks are often nothing if not what its result is on me, and you too -- a footstall plonked in its navel […]
I
became attentive to a crawling presence of 1st one, then a number
further, then additional, then quite a hoarded wealth ...
of
far-famed,
Brandon Shreds clips strewn about YouTube,
already
extant, comparable clips from hateful movies,
however created, screaming from merely overdubbing --
uproarious, uncanny sounds, Elvis. well-versed,
really not far from reality, however Loony Toons the plot, as accustomed of doing nothing, and familiar with fancy
things -- the pills, responsible for the over-antics -- and their responsibility, first, entertain the King, with a preoccupation -- being the appreciation of his Guys.
Largely, his 'Guys' laugh.
It
was inside the first 2000s' tech-unwieldy,
tedious, cumbersome -- add double editor setup (I'm only guessing), lightyears from the days a fellow named Brandon Shred, a jazz player / YouTuber had full time fascination with flick do-oversall people visualize
“Only Elvis Makes Maine Laugh” by @mrjyn
by @mrjyn
The main frolicky gallimaufry of varied clips, blips, and plonks are often nothing if not what its result is on me, and you too -- a footstall plonked in its navel […]
I
became attentive to a crawling presence of 1st one, then a number
further, then additional, then quite a hoarded wealth ...
of
far-famed,
Brandon Shreds clips strewn about YouTube,
already
extant, comparable clips from hateful movies,
however created, screaming from merely overdubbing --
uproarious, uncanny sounds, Elvis. well-versed,
really not far from reality, however Loony Toons the plot, as accustomed of doing nothing, and familiar with fancy
things -- the pills, responsible for the over-antics -- and their responsibility, first, entertain the King, with a preoccupation -- being the appreciation of his Guys.
Largely, his 'Guys' laugh.
I
became attentive to a crawling presence of 1st one, then a number
further, then additional, then quite a hoarded wealth ...
of
far-famed,
Brandon Shreds clips strewn about YouTube,
already
extant, comparable clips from hateful movies,
however created, screaming from merely overdubbing --
uproarious, uncanny sounds, Elvis. well-versed,
really not far from reality, however Loony Toons the plot, as accustomed of doing nothing, and familiar with fancy
things -- the pills, responsible for the over-antics -- and their responsibility, first, entertain the King, with a preoccupation -- being the appreciation of his Guys.
Largely, his 'Guys' laugh.
I became attentive to a crawling presence of 1st one, then a number further, then additional, then quite a hoarded wealth ...
of
far-famed,
Brandon Shreds clips strewn about YouTube,
already extant, comparable clips from hateful movies,
however created, screaming from merely overdubbing --
uproarious, uncanny sounds, Elvis. well-versed,
really not far from reality, however Loony Toons the plot, as accustomed of doing nothing, and familiar with fancy things -- the pills, responsible for the
over-antics -- and their responsibility, first, entertain the King, with a preoccupation -- being the appreciation of his Guys.
Largely, his 'Guys' laugh.
It
was inside the first 2000s' tech-unwieldy,
tedious, cumbersome -- add double editor setup (I'm only guessing), lightyears from the days a fellow named Brandon Shred, a jazz player / YouTuber had full time fascination with flick do-oversall people visualize
So,
yes, the dialogue is bawdy and uncommonly inappropriate, thus,
hilarious, not solely with middling filmic chops of syncing and
tedious redaction these many comes entailedin his craps, his (Brandon Shred), 'Elvis,' if you will, is huffed on, rubbed between legs, and kissed:the $64000 thing.
So,
yes, the dialogue is bawdy and uncommonly inappropriate, thus,
hilarious, not solely with middling filmic chops of syncing and
tedious redaction these many comes entailedin his craps, his (Brandon Shred), 'Elvis,' if you will, is huffed on, rubbed between legs, and kissed:the $64000 thing.
in his craps, his (Brandon Shred), 'Elvis,' if you will, is huffed on, rubbed between legs, and kissed:the $64000 thing.
the $64000 thing.
it might foolMemphis Mafia, and Dr. Nick, not mentioning, the securing to the King some abundant, requisite, all-good (thanks to Drx. Nick, or not), conjugation, consorting with his lil' queenies, lost, then forever forgotten: Linda, Ginger, except for, certainly, Priscilla ...
Girlfriends/Wives far more
much additional|far more|rather more|way more
inclined to supine, had King put down the hydromorphone hydrochloride and concentrated on miscroscopic King.
She might have chopped instead of hopped one of E's own Karate Guys, who got away with the King's Queen, which Elvis did, in fact, for quite a long while, obsess (like Lenny Bruce did over Law Books on Censorship).
Elvis obsessed about the very real but never about to happen (hence the Book by the first two Guys Bodyguard Defectors with the interlocutory title, the one they say almost killed the King) plan to kill the motherfucker himself --with the help of a huge assortment of lackeys (including Marty) ... -- at beastly Las Vegas honorariums and Teutonic,
shyster con grifts, representing himself a non-com, lamming, rube-hustler (he quit Eddie Arnold as manager once he smelled the porky goodness of the roasted recently Wiener schnitzel down the road, enough to whet chaps, cream Germanic hops, and enlist additional dusky WAPs unsuitably working his
harmless charm whose harmless charmers it was that was seen.
Parker's mandated $1 million greenback paydays, which when 0.5 was ablated, left a flighty dose of a pleasant 196? stack of $500,000: Kingwise!
multiply by 100 %
for inflation,
and by 10 for the number of sequential bombs, astonishingly which Elvis does not show an excessive amount of disdain for in their rewatching.
But, then, it is all
attributable to the excessive quantity of narcotics and Ann Margret ass which occupied his off-time on Set and at his LA mansion, where he and Guys, and a monkey named Scatter, were to UNceaseinly measure all childhoods into one in common, of which they didn't have to think to hard, because of the fact that they had shared it already,
ever until ... the
what to call this thing?
Never needing twisted arms, but only to follow and pop-in
lollipops -- gratis fir der kinder -- while mentally assembling lettuce and radishes
for his luncheon with "Kraftmensch," whom later they changed their names to the duo, Sturm und Drang,
that is to the degree to which ought appeal to outside authority by
saving self, devoid or tempered by rationalism—nor by pursuit of noble
deeds, suggesting that true motives, albeit, perhaps, from revenge or
greed (by proxy, again, Col. Tom for himself and charitably, he thought,
whichever of the Guys had gotten to and fucked Priscilla), an
anti-slant
seeking to elevate all things, but of humble, natural, or painful,
torment, from a groundwork of window transparency to
suggest drippy performances and melodramatic transformation
through flexibility of Elvis, he would perpetually possess, even to
entertain his, and his mother Gladys's Heart's desire, a commonplace,
however unexpected,
mature appreciation where many would have left love where it
last was for highly regarded, semi-operatic Pop tuning Opera into hits
and striking for Fifties' children and oldsters
alike right between the fourth octave and the pocketbook -- one thing
clearly remembered, later to subsume his "late, late" period of
play in his idol's voice, Mario Lanza, whose blather above was whom its
subject matter here was pointing, as was Elvis's, and to a lesser
extent, except by dint of his ability to get away with all the glitz, a
Liberace-like Sartorial Presence in both essence, excrescence and
contrivance, eschewing derisively while making inventory orders which
already had begun checking and chucking off Hound Dog for bevies of
reworked hits of his, movies having come in handy for something -- It's
Now or Never, etc. -- light opera, albeit intensely tumid and too real
for him but possibly smacking of inauthenticity to the redneck family
from Mississippi, being, for THEIR appraisal, a dash too much lavendar
(cape) to far and a pinch too strong mace (?) (kettledrum to tightly
tuned) for most (or many until much later, handing it to the homosexuals
as always, the instant appreciation, like for Garland, Streisand, Cher,
and much less so, the King -- but I guarantee you a roundtrip hop and
some rough trade from Louisville to Monroe to seething Panama City there
was a whole lotta alternative Christian sex going on which may have
helped the correct appraisal, not even to say, he was one of them, just
to say -- he was not one of anyone) to flee uncolored by anything but
purple stars in their eyes, whose raiso d'etre it was which a man, who
became famous for saying this one phrase every night of a concert,
"Elvis has left the building," not leaving out, "Ladies and Gentlemen,"
only I do for clarity, now having ruined that completely, HAD TO SAY
THAT TO LET THE BOUFFANT LADIES AND TURGID REDNECK HUSBAND /
IMPERSONATORS OR REGULARS WHO DARED TO GET OUT OF THEIR DAMP NOISOME
SEATS: KING IS ALREADY AT THE HOTEL!
Girlfriends/Wives far more
much additional|far more|rather more|way more
inclined to supine, had King put down the hydromorphone hydrochloride and concentrated on miscroscopic King.
Girlfriends/Wives far more
much additional|far more|rather more|way more
-- at beastly Las Vegas honorariums and Teutonic,
shyster con grifts, representing himself a non-com, lamming, rube-hustler (he quit Eddie Arnold as manager once he smelled the porky goodness of the roasted recently Wiener schnitzel down the road, enough to whet chaps, cream Germanic hops, and enlist additional dusky WAPs unsuitably working his
harmless charm whose harmless charmers it was that was seen.
Parker's mandated $1 million greenback paydays, which when 0.5 was ablated, left a flighty dose of a pleasant 196? stack of $500,000: Kingwise!
multiply by 100 %
for inflation,
and by 10 for the number of sequential bombs, astonishingly which Elvis does not show an excessive amount of disdain for in their rewatching.
But, then, it is all
attributable to the excessive quantity of narcotics and Ann Margret ass which occupied his off-time on Set and at his LA mansion, where he and Guys, and a monkey named Scatter, were to UNceaseinly measure all childhoods into one in common, of which they didn't have to think to hard, because of the fact that they had shared it already,
ever until ... the
what to call this thing?
Never needing twisted arms, but only to follow and pop-in
lollipops -- gratis fir der kinder -- while mentally assembling lettuce and radishes
for his luncheon with "Kraftmensch," whom later they changed their names to the duo, Sturm und Drang,
that is to the degree to which ought appeal to outside authority by
saving self, devoid or tempered by rationalism—nor by pursuit of noble
deeds, suggesting that true motives, albeit, perhaps, from revenge or
greed (by proxy, again, Col. Tom for himself and charitably, he thought,
whichever of the Guys had gotten to and fucked Priscilla), an
anti-slant
seeking to elevate all things, but of humble, natural, or painful,
torment, from a groundwork of window transparency to
suggest drippy performances and melodramatic transformation
through flexibility of Elvis, he would perpetually possess, even to
entertain his, and his mother Gladys's Heart's desire, a commonplace,
however unexpected,
mature appreciation where many would have left love where it
last was for highly regarded, semi-operatic Pop tuning Opera into hits
and striking for Fifties' children and oldsters
alike right between the fourth octave and the pocketbook -- one thing
clearly remembered, later to subsume his "late, late" period of
play in his idol's voice, Mario Lanza, whose blather above was whom its
subject matter here was pointing, as was Elvis's, and to a lesser
extent, except by dint of his ability to get away with all the glitz, a
Liberace-like Sartorial Presence in both essence, excrescence and
contrivance, eschewing derisively while making inventory orders which
already had begun checking and chucking off Hound Dog for bevies of
reworked hits of his, movies having come in handy for something -- It's
Now or Never, etc. -- light opera, albeit intensely tumid and too real
for him but possibly smacking of inauthenticity to the redneck family
from Mississippi, being, for THEIR appraisal, a dash too much lavendar
(cape) to far and a pinch too strong mace (?) (kettledrum to tightly
tuned) for most (or many until much later, handing it to the homosexuals
as always, the instant appreciation, like for Garland, Streisand, Cher,
and much less so, the King -- but I guarantee you a roundtrip hop and
some rough trade from Louisville to Monroe to seething Panama City there
was a whole lotta alternative Christian sex going on which may have
helped the correct appraisal, not even to say, he was one of them, just
to say -- he was not one of anyone) to flee uncolored by anything but
purple stars in their eyes, whose raiso d'etre it was which a man, who
became famous for saying this one phrase every night of a concert,
"Elvis has left the building," not leaving out, "Ladies and Gentlemen,"
only I do for clarity, now having ruined that completely, HAD TO SAY
THAT TO LET THE BOUFFANT LADIES AND TURGID REDNECK HUSBAND /
IMPERSONATORS OR REGULARS WHO DARED TO GET OUT OF THEIR DAMP NOISOME
SEATS: KING IS ALREADY AT THE HOTEL!
-- at beastly Las Vegas honorariums and Teutonic,
shyster con grifts, representing himself a non-com, lamming, rube-hustler (he quit Eddie Arnold as manager once he smelled the porky goodness of the roasted recently Wiener schnitzel down the road, enough to whet chaps, cream Germanic hops, and enlist additional dusky WAPs unsuitably working his
harmless charm whose harmless charmers it was that was seen.
Parker's mandated $1 million greenback paydays, which when 0.5 was ablated, left a flighty dose of a pleasant 196? stack of $500,000: Kingwise!
multiply by 100 %
for inflation,
and by 10 for the number of sequential bombs, astonishingly which Elvis does not show an excessive amount of disdain for in their rewatching.
But, then, it is all
attributable to the excessive quantity of narcotics and Ann Margret ass which occupied his off-time on Set and at his LA mansion, where he and Guys, and a monkey named Scatter, were to UNceaseinly measure all childhoods into one in common, of which they didn't have to think to hard, because of the fact that they had shared it already,
ever until ... the
what to call this thing?
Parker's mandated $1 million greenback paydays, which when 0.5 was ablated, left a flighty dose of a pleasant 196? stack of $500,000: Kingwise!
Never needing twisted arms, but only to follow and pop-in
lollipops -- gratis fir der kinder -- while mentally assembling lettuce and radishes
for his luncheon with "Kraftmensch," whom later they changed their names to the duo, Sturm und Drang,
that is to the degree to which ought appeal to outside authority by
saving self, devoid or tempered by rationalism—nor by pursuit of noble
deeds, suggesting that true motives, albeit, perhaps, from revenge or
greed (by proxy, again, Col. Tom for himself and charitably, he thought,
whichever of the Guys had gotten to and fucked Priscilla), an
anti-slant
seeking to elevate all things, but of humble, natural, or painful,
torment, from a groundwork of window transparency to
suggest drippy performances and melodramatic transformation
through flexibility of Elvis, he would perpetually possess, even to
entertain his, and his mother Gladys's Heart's desire, a commonplace,
however unexpected,
mature appreciation where many would have left love where it
last was for highly regarded, semi-operatic Pop tuning Opera into hits
and striking for Fifties' children and oldsters
alike right between the fourth octave and the pocketbook -- one thing
clearly remembered, later to subsume his "late, late" period of
play in his idol's voice, Mario Lanza, whose blather above was whom its
subject matter here was pointing, as was Elvis's, and to a lesser
extent, except by dint of his ability to get away with all the glitz, a
Liberace-like Sartorial Presence in both essence, excrescence and
contrivance, eschewing derisively while making inventory orders which
already had begun checking and chucking off Hound Dog for bevies of
reworked hits of his, movies having come in handy for something -- It's
Now or Never, etc. -- light opera, albeit intensely tumid and too real
for him but possibly smacking of inauthenticity to the redneck family
from Mississippi, being, for THEIR appraisal, a dash too much lavendar
(cape) to far and a pinch too strong mace (?) (kettledrum to tightly
tuned) for most (or many until much later, handing it to the homosexuals
as always, the instant appreciation, like for Garland, Streisand, Cher,
and much less so, the King -- but I guarantee you a roundtrip hop and
some rough trade from Louisville to Monroe to seething Panama City there
was a whole lotta alternative Christian sex going on which may have
helped the correct appraisal, not even to say, he was one of them, just
to say -- he was not one of anyone) to flee uncolored by anything but
purple stars in their eyes, whose raiso d'etre it was which a man, who
became famous for saying this one phrase every night of a concert,
"Elvis has left the building," not leaving out, "Ladies and Gentlemen,"
only I do for clarity, now having ruined that completely, HAD TO SAY
THAT TO LET THE BOUFFANT LADIES AND TURGID REDNECK HUSBAND /
IMPERSONATORS OR REGULARS WHO DARED TO GET OUT OF THEIR DAMP NOISOME
SEATS: KING IS ALREADY AT THE HOTEL!
Tom Parker had a number written on his lavatory mirror which he required to induce.
Not for dollars, or records sold , like MJ, but his was for a management team, which he, of course, was embodying beat his bigger than life singularity of personhood who no one will deny; only for the fuck-you of all his unaccountable past misdeeds from which a man who escapes Deutschland, lamms it to the States and Nashville, then sponsors and the world's before long to be most renowned human for a matter of 3 decades, never budging nor fretful, never kvetching nor repining the hundred times he'd be asked so fastidiously who he was, that his prevarication became simply another sideshow of the many, in the unending campaign among several to grant the people what they wanted in any respect prices to them, and not feel in any means strained for exacting and obtaining what is still record-setting within the financial annals of the men who wear the flannel but flare it loud with cowboy hats, bravado, unapproachable El Dorado's far-from intimidation or guilt, his tendentious posturing few hagiographers mired was there to shine a light, however only once both Elvis, the Colonel, and Ol' Shep passed on: all books were all closed, cooking had stopped.
However oddly enough, I finally perceive, Elvis must have felt terribly safe, and guarded from responsibility for any price the man whose only steerage and final, it turns out relieves one in every of worry, woe, and inventive nisus, that others profess loudly to plan, as if in a very war to try and do it, crowing only what they suppose is the issue which the colonel and therefore the King each didn't apprehend they were doing, but were, and by al accounts, as we tend to return to collect, was partnership based on one's trust and and one's avarice, one's uncareful relinquishment of it all, that never let him or anyone recognize, untune, and bragging rights, which were: he did, in fact, pay his manager, colonel Tom Parker, the foremost compensation all told areas of his Brobdingnagian enterprise, up to something north of half earned , AND WOULD EARN, till THE DAY one or the opposite DIED!
However it's all due to the excessive amount of narcotics and Ann Margret ass that occupied his off-time on set, and his mansion in LA -- wherever he and his Guys and monkey named Scatter, were ever uninterrupted in a very live childhood that they, incidentally, principally, had shared up till the very extracurricular sturm und drang howling through Graceland that a chronic childhood would have the grace to not [*fr1] sink-in till well when once it woodenly landed arduous, astray, and in brambles out of Graceland bounds, close to the Italian building referred to as Coletta's, Home of Memphis's noted BBQ dish, proximate to the Malt Shop, a search which found them sinking, dishabille, drugsick, mixed with novel Pavlovian response for Proustian madeleines, dog-food, and therefore, remembrance of things fast, past, and alas, never to recall Ann Margret's ass.
WHO DIES at 44-years-old?
The King of Rock n Roll, that is fucking WHO!
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the main coltish gallimaufry of varicolored clips, blips, and plonks is nothing if not what its result is on me, and you too -- a plinth plonked in its navel […]
