If you are going to brood may as well do it while you have to rest.  It is certainly true the Cold War machine gave no thought of provision for the masses and the Faust bargain of safe passage was lip service to the conjob of Domino Theory.  Well, here we are today, with Pentagon Disney trashing our Congress and schools while cowering behind a well-meaning little girl.  Greta will never escape being cited as first evidence that Covid19 was in the Insurrection Plan.  Media was ready to promote her Great Performances.  I discount the idea that she knew in advance because I have been blamed ridiculously for the prior attack.  This is part of the media Mecca puppetshow arranged by Palaces of Pentagon Disney, the Beatles, United Nations, Saudi Arabia, and Hollywood.   The surest case of Japanese cunning is their legendary imitative planning, which in this case yields the true character of that legend, being that the imitation is based on the splendor of longing for a different quality of life.

        Disney timed the opening of their second amusement park to the fated day in Dallas for JFK and torpedo titted Rosine came onto me for the kill with the longhand note, “I love you more and more and more until how you say a slaughterhouse.”  Covid 19 is their third Green Weapon after snipers and the 80’s incident in Frisco.  The deeds were done by martial connived satire.  Strange, isn’t it, that the most lethal propaganda took the favored style of resistance.  Why not?  Nobody owns the dialogic imagination.

        In examining some points of departure:  Putney Swope, Zero Mostel’s The Mastermind and the friendships of Wm. Burroughs, we do more than treasure hunt, we guard against more poison from riff raff like BaileyGlasser.  In laughing at the evidence of abomination while Lew Lapham chimed, “I’ll take that,” to Shulman Book deals, Megan Dietz, for Ringo Starr, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, chirped of her decoder ring in the vicinity of Cary Grant’s legend.  Ulysses, by the way, who the very reverend citizen called me, died of cancer in duh mouff.  The slither, in other words, is a myriad of formica mosaic, twisted together in perniciously altered signifier to render a disseminated description that takes too much work to authenticate, a sort of wisebeard poetry from hacks admiring Heidegger’s post war plumbing.

        The reassuring hope is that something can still be done to rescue our history.
The attackers threaten, terrorize, victimize and batter, sowing fear then demand of you a pledge of non-violence without even offering reform that allows them to kill you as having implied there is no escape. They coach their student to the prom queen stage like Steven King’s Carrie. There is no match for the cartoon colorama of their charade. They aim their successive poaches with the sheer audacity of pure sadism, marching Greta right down the plank of Time Magazine while the corpulent bellows in feigned rage and real derision.