Notify Blogger about objectionable content.
What does this mean? Send via SMS
BlogThis!-Is It Tuesday ? -Oh Saturday !
The Rants And Lies And Findings By jimjimblund AKA Jim B. The Nicest Man Alive. And Such A Asshole He Also Is.

torsdag, mars 16, 2006




Want TribeCast on your site?Get your own!

posted by jimjimblund @ 02:42 0 comments links to this post


nagelapan.blogg.se/



isittuesdayohsaturday.blogspot.com/

posted by jimjimblund @ 02:13 0 comments links to this post

time talk by jimjimblund

Imagine there is a bank which credits your account each morning with $86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day,allows you to keep no cash balance,and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day.What would you do?Draw out every cent, of course!Well, everyone has such a bank.Its name is TIME.Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds.Every night it writes off, as lost,whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance.It allows no overdraft.Each day it opens a new account for you.Each night it burns the remains of the day.If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours.There is no going back.There is no drawing against the tomorrow. You must live in the present on today's deposits.Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success! The clock is running.Make the most of today.To realize the value of ONE YEAR,ask a student who has failed a grade.To realize the value of ONE MONTH,ask a mother who has given birth to a premature baby. To realize the value of ONE WEEK,ask an editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize the value of ONE DAY,ask a daily wage laborer who has kids to feed. To realize the value of ONE HOUR,ask the lovers who are waiting to meet. To realize the value of ONE MINUTE,ask a person who has missed the train. To realize the value of ONE SECOND,ask a person who has avoided an accident. To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND,ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics.Treasure every moment that you have!And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special,special enough to spend your time ...and remember that time waits for no one . . . Yesterday is historyTomorrow a mysteryToday is a giftThat's why it's called the present.

posted by jimjimblund @ 01:19 0 comments links to this post

the stupid interwiev/info on jjb


jimjimblund is the creator/selfdivider/soul-dna splitter that gave place in time(but not in space yet since the process is hard on the mind) for the slumberparty rascal and mystic idiot of the deathless self we all know so well,first it was only titles.Who doesnt remember tryouts like "dont hit her anymore" and the evergreene "To Dare,To Be Able,To Be" or the 1967 version "i dare -IM ABLE -i am
A DREAM" The former mentioned,'dont hit her' came in a small quantity of 500 signed ex 97, under the new title "one woman a week is killed-week34; MARY"
The 98 scandal of jimjim's airhabits was never played out and he hints that a title of air and water addiction is a work in progress. But he claims he "breates like always you too and one glass of cold water always been the poor mans greeting for the wanderer and roughness riders at hot devil days-you are culturehistory deniers,falsifiers"
Jim B have been a white page so far and his role is said to be the assistants,handwashes silk shorts and write and record the material by remote from jimjim.At the pressdesk at jimjims one room/kitchen mansion south of Stockholm the question kept poping up; "is jimjim loosing it or is jim.b a fink?" Finaly jimjim came with a statement nine thirty sunday morning;jim b is lost since he just watch artzy movies By Herzog all day contemplating the steady price and quality of the airgreen.Me myself-jimjimblund- learned that the angels of my twinesex have an experience that make them unexperienced so,
im 5 getting shot dead and left by the road.
im 11 hand a half running scared for the big gang in stonewall suburbia Stockholm.
Im 23 fumbling to use the damn condom and i hated to not be able to lit the lamp so i could see.ooh no.
I am also 33 looking stoopid.
-no im not a pshychopath!
.I am also an infant in another lifespan,in the hot white sun devil!
Placed at the side of the road by poor walkers to die. And i did. Any Questions?"
"Hello Im Shitty Moans,senior reporter From The 'digest of lard' And i wonder why we sit here in this ugly 50s staircase just to hear the chemical analasys taken on you morning urine.Any comment?"
"Yes, Just One,I wonder Also-Thats it-next garbagebag comes in 35 min and its not 4 me 2 judge but take good care of my droppings-if you spin it good and do the false value coverup well as i know you
will its probably 2000$ or more for at least the coffea grinds i spit in daily for two weeks."

posted by jimjimblund @ 01:09 0 comments links to this post


">jjb








posted by jimjimblund @ 00:50 0 comments links to this post

master LEONARD COHEN writes * the song 'AVALANCHE'






Avalanche
Well I stepped into an avalanche,
it covered up my soul;
when I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident
as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold;
he does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.

When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.

You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind;
the crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.

Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
you don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure,
it is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.

posted by jimjimblund @ 00:33 0 comments links to this post

läsreadläs


Link

The "posted by"

www.arbetaren.se/

posted by jimjimblund @ 00:30 0 comments links to this post




posted by jimjimblund @ 00:16 0 comments links to this post

-Is It Tuesday ? -Oh Saturday !: to see f yourself

-Is It Tuesday ? -Oh Saturday !: to see f yourself



Once upon a time, there was a wizard. All wizards had specialties. Unlike other wizards, this wizard's special- ty wasn't Nuclear Destruction or Death Rays or Mind Control. His specialty was divination, which means he could ask questions that no one could answer and get answers anyway. He got his answers from Gods. He started off by asking embarrassing questions like "How are babies made?" and "Why does the wizard next door dress up in women's clothes?" For questions like these, the Gods usually hemmed and hawed around before recommending really good books on the subject. He was a very naive wizard. Finally (when he grew up) he began asking questions about things that mattered, like "How can my country reduce its national deficit?" and "Will Man-O-War win in the sixth?" For information such as this, he was rewarded and praised by his fellow countrymen and bookies. But he still was at heart a very naive wizard, and when he was at home alone (which was most of the time), he would pull all the shades and ask the Gods personal questions. Eventually, the Gods got angry at him for asking things that were none of his business. But there wasn't anything they could do about it, because he was such a powerful wizard that they were required to answer his questions. Finally, one day, the Gods found a way to get even. The wizard, on a Friday night, had locked himself in and asked them "Why does magic work?" The Gods thought for several seconds before answering that question. Then they grinned. "Why," they said, "we don't know. In fact, magic is kind of silly, isn't it?" The wizard became agitated and started protesting. "Hey, guys," he said. "Hey guys." "Sorry," said the Gods gleefully, and banished magic from the world forever. The poor wizard was left without a spell to stand on, and was ostracized by his fellow countrymen and bookies. Unfortunately, with magic gone, the Gods found themselves without anyone to talk to and died of boredom.

posted by jimjimblund @ 00:05 0 comments links to this post

onsdag, mars 15, 2006

pakulakmadness.blogspot.com/


www.usablogg.org/data/kontakt.html

posted by jimjimblund @ 23:57 0 comments links to this post
About Me
Name:
jimjimblund
Location:
Huddinge, Stockholm, Sweden
im swell and i dont know you. Old friends do not abandon loving friendships, Even when those they cherish happen to do them harm. A strong, close friend will not listen to a friends' faults, And on the day a friend offends, he celebrates his silence.

President Bush meets with the Queen of England and asks her, "Your Majesty, how is it that you have such an efficient government? Do you have any tricks to share with me on this?"

"Why, of course", replies the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people".

To which Bush replies, "How do you know if they are intelligent?".

The Queen takes a sip of her tea and says, "It's easy, ask them a riddle." She then hits the button on her intercom and says, "Send in Tony Blair".

Tony Blair enters the room, "Yes my Queen?".

The Queen smiles at him and says, "Answer the following, your mother and your father have a child, it's not your brother or your sister, who is it?".

Tony Blair hesitates for a moment and says, "It's me!".

"Very well" says the Queen.

Bush returns to Washington and asks the same question to Vice President Dick Cheney, "Dick, your mother and your father have a child, it's not your brother or your sister, who is it?".

To this Cheney says "Let me think about it".

Cheney then goes to his advisors and asks them all to answer the question. No one seems able to answer this. Frustrated he goes into one of the toilets in the bathroom and recognizes Colin Powell's shoes in the neighboring stalls.

"Colin, can you answer this question? You mother and your father have a child, it's not your brother or your sister, who is it?".

Colin Powell immediately responds, "that's easy, it's me". To this, Cheney smiles, thanks him, and returns to talk to Bush.

"I did some research and I have the answer to your question, it's Colin Powell".

Bush gets up angrilly and says, "you imbecile, it's Tony Blair!".

Suzanne i baks?tet sj?ng ocks? meningsl?st p? en barnmelodi: 161, 162, 163, 164, 165 etc. etc. och bem?dade sig att f? r?kneorden att n?gorlunda st?mma med melodin och jag t?nkte p? alla de tomma timmar hon har framf?r sig och bakom sig i livet. Vad s?ger jag, tomma timmar, jag menar katatoniska timmar, timmar av upprepning, idiotier, motorisk f?rstr?else utan mening, allt f?r att f? tiden att g?, p? t?g, p? b?tar, i v?ntrum, i skolan, hemma. Och tanken p? hur mycket i livet som ?r bortkastat, tomt och meningsl?st, d?rf?r att ingen m?nniska finns s? skapad att hon kan fylla alla dessa timmar med inneh?ll, denna tanke gav mig vemod.

WELCOME TO THE MACHINE