Back in 1994 when I officially proved that Gabriel was lying about the attack I was mistakenly confident that the tide would turn, not realizing that the NAACP and King Crimson had been involved in the abomination all along.  They were summoning Hollywood media for a play with the smiley face of a MisterRogers sticker over a pack of Federal wolves. Like the film Diva, where they lampooned the whole thing, Trump and Gabriel offer the laugh of Confederate movie framing, if not their underlings, at least someone acceptable to the folks back home.  During that moment of false confidence, I said with scorn, “I busted your cherry Thornburg.” This was known to the Beatles whose attaches have uploaded Greta Thunberg to the tosk of talking for natterers most important now that all that is behind us and the reasons known.

      The aw poors about whom they care so much are part of the killuz sarcastic ellipsoid from MisterBurstyn’s Neighborhood, jokers with no umbrage assuring us that they know now, hahahaha.    Biden and Dubya watch the assembly line, discarding here, installationing there, as such politicians do, while Aaron Dixon drives his greenwalled Saudi machine to the tune of Dr. Salwa Al-Noori.  Don’t buck the providers. You might want to call him Sheik Yer Dix, (or Sheik Dx).