It is hereby resolved that the actions and manner of the actions occurring from the hand of Trumpytune and his bedlamite warriors, WARRIORS! Shall be answered in the manner of Martin Luther.  The petition is nailed to the door of the outrage.   We turn now to the flock who were cheated of rightful rule and left none the wiser.  

       Obama, the cringing, opined from state that cynicism must go, but the observance while enough for the society he keeps is not enough because it isn’t just cynicism that is a problem but idealism that doesn’t understand how cynicism took domain.

       The opening hand of the assassins is God and the devil, ironically called good and evil, since evil is stronger than good but holy stronger than evil in the pitch understood by theology.   Man vying with the devil only becomes the devil was the message of Tolkien’s ring of power.

        Clearly from the public education mission of the state and the understanding that higher learning allows, these aren’t necessary discussions to the rule of Law.  Unfortunately, the miscarriage of our society’s adoption of poison as an instrument of the state, largely foreign incited, has created a vacuum in seeing clearly the role that devil and God theology played among other places in Dealey Plaza, which resulted in Kennedy loyalists cringing from the AIDS attack as somehow the same, as though AIDS victims were worthy of JFK, or worse that he was somehow their fly lord, but that is exactly the method of thinking that followed Kennedy from Jack Ruby’s joint and wormed its way to Warhol Foundation.  Told to choose sides behind a mask of idealism hiding sex secrets, the work of the devil, at which Henry Wade hung his head like a soft hearted Catholic, and set about his bitter duty as a Southern man, or those who knew the devil for what it is and ask forgiveness, the hound dogs shot him.

         This is the message they carry on the waves.

         Turn to the Yinzers galore in the city of faceliars.  A number of their strange lieutenants of the trafficking dens are eager police society drama clubs  This may sound like John Stockwell, but for a while I liked the girl who went by Zane because Bowie had called her by that name, which she let be known accorded her much more than a nine spot of higherness, a near infinity, as though a Nefertiti fairy in leathers at the ear of Brando.  Spaz, likewise guided the missiles of abortion to the trash bin for the accusation of willful miscarriage, acted out for police extremism, an observation.

          There we find the schoolbook of the Pit at Pitt.

          The puncraepft is foreign enough to bring a clip to Greg Karl’s cleft leer.  We find it standing tall in Dealey Plaza where Chas. Bronson raised his dacoit as banner, paying handsome men for Yoko Ono to brutalize the Kennedy voodoo doll, Jimmy Creary.  Bronson announced by his own wey the taking of another man’s wife in sympatico with the wey Onassis set upon JFK and the macho figures of mystique grabbed hold and mongered in.  

          I sometimes misuse the Sabine legend as simply panting to be taken in the arms of Attila the Hun, the rabid Beatles.  It’s a little more complicated, deals were formed, peace brokered, sacrifices made, oh, those sacrifices, for a bipartisan den.