Arthur, admittedly, is from a future. Here on a mission to save y’all from yourselves, generally. And from a cabal of ruthless dictators, that presently, do

unduly misrule, over ye. Don’s an apprentice dictator. Welcome, to Arthur‘s world, your world, too.

Art’s from the future. Our brother, prodigal. Returned to save US from other brothers of ours, so brutally ruling … US. Predictably, The Donald

is but a dictator, apprentice. Come, the ides of March. Not, for Caesar. Ides come, this time, for Donald.

Come, the ides. Not for Caesar but for Don. At the Watcher’s behest, Art’s been summoned to save creation. So mark Arthur’s words. God willing,

Arthur’s been extorting his brothers. Blackmailing them. Tweeting them to do, however unwillingly, right things.

On death at the hand of cruel, wonderful, irony. Irony is killing Art. Witness the Buffoon-in-Chief. He loves, liberty. And he loves, freedom. And Kim,

he loves too, off and on. He loves all, he lies. His base, loves him. Love, on Urantia. Too oft … a whim.

Witness a Buffoon-in-Chief. He loves liberty. He loves freedom. Kim Jong un, he loves too, off and on. He loves all he lies to. Or, on. A base, loves him. Love,

on Urantia. Too oft, a whim. Seemingly surreal, His love. It is, what it is. Everlasting, love.

Love, ethereal. Too oft, on Urantia, too ethereal. But His love is, what it is. And it is, matter. And it matters, tri-dimensionally.

Physically; metaphysically; and spiritually. Dust are ye. Dust, shall ye be. Metaphysical matter. Dark matter. And energy.

Dust are ye. Dust shall ye be. Mysteriously tho, metaphysical matters, critically, matter. Dark matter. And energy. He is not just light. Energy

dark, also is He. He is The Fabric. The Matrix. All things is He Who creates. He Who pens, human histories.