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.”



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