Obama, Don lies, caused, climate change. His climate regulations, on fire now, have huge areas of the Arctic. On fire, is the Arctic. The dioxide of carbon
spews into the atmosphere like iron-belt factory smokestacks, belching, cola-like, dioxide, carbons.
“Actually, I never said that,” to peels of laughter Don protested last evening at the Cabal’s nightly lunar soirée with Art. “Because, verily, everyone knows:
There’s no such thing as climate change. It’s the weather. It changes daily, everyone … knows.”
“Everyone knows about changes in weather from day to day. And that it’s not polite to go where ye are not expressly, wanted. On Twitter,
everyone knows that what’s happening is less tragedy than fake news, shows, of extremely, bad, manners.”
Lord: Protect me from my friends. I can take care of my enemies. Voltaire’s Prayer convened tonight’s dream into soirée chapter 1487 of MAYDAYS.
MAYDAYS‘ co-authors: IbS, Xi, Vlad, Kim, Don and Art. Fiction. And nonfiction. Both, is the algorithm, MAYDAYS.
MAYDAYS is an algorithm. A groundbreaking set of instructions to instruct ye on what to do; to save man, and his planet. It’s fictional, nonfiction.
Importantly, it’s interactive. It’s interactive. And fiction. And it’s also, really, surreal, nonfiction.
MAYDAYS: Really surreal nonfiction. With elements nonfictional. Like a time traveling antihero; nightly, lunar, rendezvous; wine and cheese soirées
on her surface; lying men,
upon her highness are transformed into truthful men. There’s where, they soirée.
Upon her highness Luna, lying men are implausibly transformed into truthful men. It’s not oxygen making liars of men. Luna’s atmospherics make men
visiting her, speak Truth. She’s a meeting place, perfect. Where Don, need not be, an alpha dog, amongst men.