With Voltaire’s prayer, Kim, Don and Art open evening soirées on Luna. Megalomaniacal lunatics, are they. By day, prolific liars. Seekers of truth, evenings, on Urantia’s … orbital.
Implausibly commissioned, by the Watcher, Urantia’s, Penemue … (Pen), they have been, to pen a Truth and Reconciliation derived … Plan Kim-Don. To Nobel Peace prizes … win.
The Donald’s taking Thor’s hammer to an old world. Hammering with new lies, old allies and old world ways, in favor of master puppeteer, Vladimir. Verily, the weak … must die.
Verily, the weak must die. It is the law. ‘Tis the law of Darwin. ‘Tis not meant to be cruel. ‘Tis just a law, of evolution. And Vlad and Don meet tomorrow in private, primate, duels.
All, hurry. Don to deconstruct. US, and allies. Bob to report. On lies, in truth. Arthur is just a More-Mart greeter, but Don, beware the ides. Not Caesar’s March, but September’s.
Then, the three brothers joining hands along with that evening’s invitees to their nightly, lunar soirees, pray, ” Lord protect me from my friends. I can take care of … my enemies.”