SHITFINGER = INTERLOPER?

You really bloom when you receive wavy lines from the hive mind to crawl over a crocus unannounced. We'd love to treat you to dinner, fiend and friend, and only charge you for clean up. But no one knows who you are, delicate. Picture a room of blushy braceface, fucker.

Love That Can't Be Defined,
Doctor Eight

DO NOT DOUBT

Commitment

Do you find yourself breathless, sped up, imagining putting your nose in someone else's nest because that's what you might have done that in the glass-eyed days of freedom?

If you do, meet me.

Keep your feisty curd dumbed down. Meet all on Union Street, between 4th and 5th to do a quick pick-up. I have a sack of gloves and will be there all day, scum bumpers.

The Way that We Look

Some emphases around and in meetings. This is called the furthest and damndest form of courtesy and courtship. Your eyes are the deep inside connectors to you for others, namely: fellow NYGA\B. You've heard the prick cliche. You've handled the garbage people slough off without gloves on:

Oh, your eyes betray you, friendly!

Your eyes really pull things together!

Did you plan that?!!?

Traditionally, if we share a thing, it's a knack for sniffing out party-time BS. Don't rub down another's back with a basket of plebe rotten! This men's club is first and foremost a hall of mirrors. Deeper then "friendly" and longer than "the advertiser's recommended mean for purposes of comparison."

Typically, it's the cliche that rubs hottest to the quick. But not close enough.

Stick your pre-meeting goodwill this saturday and commit the fifteen passing minutes to a stone gaze with another NYGA\B.

Blessings,
Doctor Eight

THE RECIPE FOR TASTING TUNA IN THE CRACK ON THE OLD SIDE

Required Items:

Species Plants, We Resist the Sour Tastes
Handful Shrimps
Natural Gravy
Trembling Cat Bound Hard
Thin Wide Fig Mixture, Fat Inside
Frying Bath
Meal Base Hard Pellets
18 Bread Bowls
Aromatic Pulls Treated Interior, Several Goats
Big Pot
3 Quarts McShivvers Old Harsh Liquor
42 Inch Soft Cheeses
Ice Water
Hot Mushroom Slices
Cooling Station

STEPS

1. Perfect timing! The theory here is, party in between cold and hot, but fire up your Frying Bath. It's job is done at 600 Degrees F.

2. You must arrange your Trembling Cat Bound Hard on the edge of the action in the smoke and splatter. Note that boiling oil however! Co-mingle your Meal Base Hard Pellets and your Thin Wide Fig Mixture, Fat Inside in a round way. These belong in your Big Pot simmering and watched closely at 275 Degrees F.

3. You might think incorrectly that your Hot Mushroom Slices belong in your Big Pot, but that's because you've never tried anything difficult. Nearly everything goes in that Frying Bath: Handful Shrimps, Hot Mushroom Slices, Aromatic Pulls Treated Interior, Several Goats and your Species Plants, We Resist the Sour Tastes.

4. With so many pieces cooking, add your 3 Quarts McShivvers Old Harsh Liquor into that Big Pot. Stir up. It's sticky.

5. Cooking objects in your Frying Bath can be popped into your Big Pot now. Raise the temperature to about 375 Degrees F so that everyone's compromising. Frying Bath goes to the Cooling Station.

6. Arrange your Bread Bowls to accept one daunting scoop from your mixed Big Pot each. Do it!

7. Your Bread Bowls are in shock, so cover them with your 42 Inch Soft Cheese. Hey, Flatland! Your 42 Inch Soft Cheese will want to melt ambient, so slow pour essential Ice Water to keep it from running.

8. Final Servings include Natural Gravy. The temperature here isn't important, because the party's been so up and down Tasting Tuna in the Crack, On the Old Side.

Let that Trembling Cat go!

Data Dimensions!

Some Spring Cleaning:

1) Congratulations to Stephen on his lower station interview with a local paper, and he didn't fuck it too badly. Halloa to you on that, I am not ashamed to share the hot excerpt:

LSI: I am a middling Lower Station Interviewer. I believe in my credentials.

S: I am Stephen.

LSI: You're sitting on a promotional opportunity. What don't we know about your service to the club? We're dying to know what the heck that club is.

S: I am NYGA\B, submissive and dismissive to no one. Doctor Eight calls the shots, and we middle managers make the food and deliver it. At the rear and at the front, we're helping people.

LSI: For those of us who don't understand you, what kind of helping is it, and what's the cost?

S: We're a community kitchen and lookabout for grannies crossing busy streets. Lost pets. Whitewashing. Once, I held an angry cat down, and the bird flew away.

LSI: Thanks Stephen, that's about all the time we have.

S: Fortunate for you. Goodbye on behalf of Doctor Eight.

LSI: Right, thank you.

S: Thank you.

LSI: Ok, bye.

S: Yes, Goodbye to you.

LSI: All right.

S: Yes, all right.

LSI: I'm leaving.

S: Goodbye. And stay safe.

LSI: Bye.

S: Yes.

2) We're abuzz with news about Gordon's self-produced vocal album. Stay tuned, and to pre-empt the rumor mill, Gordon will miss some meetings, but dues are adjusted to account for what is, at the end of the day, an NYGA\B project.

3) Potluck is Friday. Arrangements have been made to finish our pipe-ring for locked bikes and scooters outside of HQ. No one will take our wheels on that day, I tell you. We are all looking forward to an evening of peace and cheese.

4) Small reflection: Don't pretend the sun's emergence provides an opportunity to relent in your duties. Submerge in Heart In Motion, and let the music take control. Put yourself out to restore things that are obviously crumbled! Don't cheat!

You are Truly Loved,
Doctor Eight

The Worst and Saddest Day

Good reason for that. No one declared aught. You had a lot of lovely guiding expectations. They were all garbage. You've let yourself down in such a constitutional way,

Who are you if you're a member of this men's club? Forget the charter. It's made by animals. Your pedigree demands an answer and an effort. Can't deliver? We know what you mean. We started this club. If we deliver, I hand over to you: a bundle of organs wrapped in wax paper.

NO, LISTEN UP CREW.

Please. Everything's under control. Dissention in the ranks is part of what makes a great house great. Conflict provides grit. Grit provides traction. And, we're going somewhere.

Consult your moral compass. Take the last shit. Stuff your wallet with interesting facts. You'll still fail in public spaces! Go to your opening night, and they'll confuse with you the youth that you've trained out of. Well, just, WHOOPS.

Could be that the end of things is near. Oh, that's the secret you keep with youself isn't it?

Couldn't of known. Never would have guessed. Even caught, you're gnawing on the bone.

We're due for a private conference.

Michael Skolnick.

Come to my office.

Blessings,
Doctor Eight

GROUP NOTES: Jonah, keep the goat locked up and in service, boy.

Turn off all the cameras, no one's watching you.

Go in the backyard and feed the bitch. She's your spirit animal. Nestle your vertical hand between her shoulders blades in a faux karate chop and give yourself this allowance: fuck her nerves. The bond between you pours like honey. At first it stretches way down on its own time (in love with the plastic of course, but peep this, only extending the anticipation like a good girl should), but then the kiss, oh, pushing through that bottleneck pipsqueak. How do you have the energy for it darling? That's when the nerves go away. Right there. The easy flow.

She looks stupid. She tries to eat metal.

There's so much more sleuthing in this direction if you want the group's respect, support and approval. What does she feel like? Let her spit at you and try to escape over the too tall fence. The little lessons your enclosure will provide add up to quite a curriculum. Do you see now? You're taking a journey together, and this isn't a videotaped long way home, you've got a formal report due. Namely, touch her.

Nature isn't just something to talk about. It's the invisible ribbon between you both, and you're talking in different languages to describe it. Thing is, guide each other.

You're both in for a treat, I suspect.

Be Fearless,
Doctor Eight

Some advice before the big weekend.

Goodwill. Pledge your pedigree like a stinky stinky.

You should be proud.

Well, we tried our best. You know the mission! This is a call to duty! If you see lame on well you looked at yourself and matched the golden territory with the a flame shape, someone eeked leering. Reach your long hand out. We flew the best warm could.

And I love you.

Blessings,
Doctor Eight

Pepper Up the Defenses. We're Going Into the World.

Well, eventually it's imperative to hit, no, address: the top level stuff.

Real high test byline, unrelated to fashion and fortune. Advantage? Us, if plied and plied well. The facts stand fairly unrepentent. It's us against the world. It can and will be so when you're soft around the middle. You get born that way no one wishes it on you and it's hard to imagine doing it on your own. You're all checked out of the wrong docked jitty. Slap that dog. I've talked him down and around. Glasses high on up, for we will not hesitate to talk their language!

Stream of invective in rebuke of the stares certainly meant to make us feel unattractive: You are unattractive in fact! How unattractive you are makes you lash your crocus around at me. Hear me say these words! They are the truth so help our cause!

Don't spare your energy. They need to know this club plays big boys.

Unstable repelling commentary up along the fortifying defense in which the jealous guard their most precious secrets. So Deep: Well halloa. Halloa to you, pinch hitter. Your confidence is strongly and wrongly divined and I did call you ditched with my body language. All of my inheritance is dedicated to your smithereened sense of purpose, bubble tail. Lose the grin, it's least becoming.

Be Aware,
Doctor Eight

THE RECIPE FOR TASTING YOUR WAY HOME THE ARRANGEMENTS ARE FUCKED MORE OR LESS

Required Items:

Dough
50 Sesame Seeds
2 Handfuls Rock Salt
1 Long Hot Rare Space
1 Bushel Smoked Pig Sausage Pickled Version Sharp Seeds
3 Spreads
Refined Sack Haw Haw
10 Butters
1/2 Liter Seasonal Ale
Thin Heavy String Patterned Weight Attached
1 Reaching Knife
4 Solar Lights Turned On
20 Eggs, Duck

STEPS

1. You've got nothing to do but work. Cast Dough right on to your Long Hot Rare Space. Your 4 Solar Lights Turned On are one by one at each corner head down at your Dough, and this fast forwards the element of time. Part of your job is to avoid the group's disappointment.

2. If your Solar Lights Turned On don't encourage at least 350 Degrees F the options are limited. The first decisions in your soft Dough are repeating several times over a toss of your Thin Heavy String Patterned Weight Attached. You've got to hold the end there. Plan 10 deep impressions on your Dough and make them happen.

3. There's something going on across the flats. Save yourself and push your Spreads and Handfuls Rock Salt across them, impressions included. In those impressions though, each receives a Butter.

4. After all, your Solar Lights Turned On will change everything. Add the confusion of the Reaching Knife, which will completely remove your impressions in a round way, Butters seeped in deeply. Toss each impression into what's handy.

5. You have creative craters on your hands. In there dump your Eggs, Duck, Liter Seasonal Ale and Sesame Seeds in solution. Don't just watch!

6. Squarely arrange your Bushel Smoked Pig Sausage Pickled Version Sharp Seeds in lines end to end across your Dough. Visit your Refined Sack Haw Haw in a springtime toss across the whole makings.

7. Wait.

8. Roll your Dough into a thick coil and cut it a juicy strombole. It took a long time, and your plans can too easily be ruined in Tasting Your Way Home The Arrangements are Fucked More or Less.

Those cast aside impressions are for someone else. Fear will prevent you from doing a good job!