The kid doesn't chew tobacco, smoke, drink, curse or chase broads. I don't see how he can make it.
I write a lot of songs about my impressions from a man's point of view.
Dallas Mavericks want me as a bald-headed 5' 8" guard with a 95" vertical. Vince Carter respect my legs, ask Shawn Kemp.
Supersonic bionic robot voodoo power Equator ex my chance to flex skills on Ampex
I drop styles on ears. . . the public bite 'em. Not many went to school, so the dummies wouldn't write 'em. They say, "Yo Keith! You're Kool, you usin' big words!" I went to college, I'm even more stupid, herb.
Now my helmet's on, you can't tell me I'm not in space.
Think about it, if you was there standing looking at me. What would you do, if I hit your face with dog doo-doo?
One may even suspect that there is more to reality than measurements will ever reveal.
I have always been accused of taking the things I love – football, of course, but also books and records – much too seriously, and I do feel a kind of anger when I hear a bad record, or when someone is lukewarm about a book that means a lot to me. Perhaps it was these desperate, bitter men in the West Stand at Arsenal who taught me how to get angry in this way; and perhaps it is why I earn some of my living as a critic – maybe it’s those voices I can hear when I write. ‘You’re a WANKER, X. ’ ‘The Booker Prize? THE BOOKER PRIZE? They should give that to me for having to read you.
Other paths would include making nuclear fission cheap enough and safe enough that people broadly embrace it, so that could be scaled up.
My players on defense must have a hand-up on every shot. If not, they run sprints.