Devatenáctého června dva tisíce-sedmnáct

Oh, no... Must I, Miss Sophie?
It's too hot...
It's too Monday...
I don't want to write anything...

Dobrý večer!

On yedinci Haziran iki bin on yedi

Praise the Goat? All Hail to the Llama?

I don't think so...

I am not that much into religion.

You've got to believe in something?

I don't think so...

Az igazi vékony árnyas kérem álljon fel

Now, I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Goat
But you don't really care for music, do you?

The Goat is my shepherd; I shall not want.

It makes me lie down in green pastures.
It leads me beside still waters.

It restores my soul.
It leads me in paths of righteousness
for its' name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Goat
forever.

And the Goat will carry the sins of the world...

Номи ман Слим сояафкан аст.

When shit hits the fan it's hard to leave the room with a white shirt and clean hands. Remember old Murphy and his theory. Think about it... And write that in your diary...

دو چھٹے جون ہزار سترہ

There will be eighteen weeks full of fear and madness. Maybe seventeen weeks. More or less. More less than more. But there will be weeks. I was in my late teens, maybe early twenties when it was happening first. Yes, I know I look younger. I watched it on satellite tv, some time after it first aired. English with Dutch subtitles. She said she ate only one bunny but there are abviously missing two of them. Chocolate bunnies. A box of chocolate bunnies. Hot vanilla fudge. Sugar will kill the coffee man... Think about it... And write that in your diary...