MAYDAY 1367: MONDAY, APRIL 1, 2019

He laughs best who laughs last. So Art pens couplet poetry. Linking tweets, loaded with characters makes for poetry, pretty.

Margins straight as an arrow, complement content, pithy. Not an autistic one’s revenge. Just justice, really.

Failures to wisely plan oft become, plans to fail. Art Everman is come from a civilized future to these very potentially, end time, present, days,

surreally. Get this! Pen would have Art reason with men who submit not to Abraham, Jesus and Mohammed, today.

MAYDAYS: A tale of two Urantias, in one. One for one percent. One for ninety-nine. No one wins if we come not, to agree. ‘Tis wiser to share

bounty between us and not lose it altogether. Seems logical. But common sense, is uncommon. We just, won’t share.

Seven days in May. The ides of March, bypassing April, have given way to a Manchurian candidate’s, fateful, seven days in May.

As if The Almighty may well be, a fanatic of American culture. God. A film buff. Who knew? And who knew about seven days, in May?

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