HEADERS ARCHIVE

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The Wedding Telegram from Uncle Payton for Troy & May-Lee [WARNING: pig & chook noises; 4shared.com]

If you have just come from my main site: Fool’s Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring: PAYTON L. INKLETTER

you are now at my HEADERS ARCHIVE where you are in for a rare treat! You will need a box of tissues to soak up the tears, yes, even you red-blooded men, for the unspeakable beauty of my headers has reduced many a big strapping hairy man into a blubbering tearful mess. If you are one such a big hairy strapping lad, you may want to be alone, for to be seen crying your heart out can be challenging. I won’t tell anyone. Now if you have arrived here you know not how nor from whence, get over to my main site above poste haste, check out the vibe and the credentials of that unique place, then head back here thus the better prepared for the experience you’re about to have. If you don’t, I’ll slap you on the back of your legs, and don’t you think I won’t!

Saturday, May 17, 2008

HEADERS ARCHIVE page 1: Images of unspeakable beauty - cry your eyes out













































+paytontedwithlove+

2 comments:

Gladys Hobson said...

My word, that Koala sure has been places and done everything — sitting down of course,
And who is his dresser? Such clothes! He must have a royal designer to keep him so suave and fashionable. Oh, that I might get his autograph — nay, autograph on a photograph!

Payton L. Inkletter said...

Gladys: You speak words of one who is not only wise, but also astute. I not only have been places and done everything, I know everything as well. And yet, notwithstanding, despite and even so, undeniable convergence and striking apparent congruities aside, my wardrobe, as breathtaking and illustrious as it plainly is, is but a poor indication, a pitiful reflection, nay, a mere silhouette of a pale shadow cast to an impossibly distant horizon of the wonderful, unique, nay, one off, bear of a man that I am. To meet me is to love me, to become yet another smitten kitten.

My couture consultant is also my apparel assistant and habiliments helpmeet, none other than the alabaster dragon, the spendthrifty thistle, the succulent scattergood, the voluptuous vixen, the frilly-knickered lizard, yay, none other than the irreplaceable reprobatable Missus Inkletter herself, of whom it is said, in hushed tones of incredulous disbelief, that when she was made the mould wasn't exactly thrown away… nay, rather, it was hurled into an active volcano, and it put it out, saving thousands upon thousands of lives, only to live on in fear of the new protoplasmic vulcaness. I know whereof I speak…