Share this modern-day, epic poem. The fate of the planet, I suspect, is in my hands. I am, after all, the author. The transformation of mankind now depends, accordingly, on an inerrant, asteroid. And it depends on — an inerrant — me.

The transformation of mankind depends on me. And J’ve been doing my part; destroying the Party of Lincoln; and writing my story. It’s the story of man. And it’s the story, very possibly, of aliens — submarine — or subterranean — extraterrestrial.

This is the story of aliens extraterrestrial, whether they turn out to be submarine, subterranean or indeed, extraterrestrial — or indeed, all of the above. It’s the story of me and an asteroid. And it’s the story of hubris and the surface — terrestrials.

Methinks that the in the aftermath of the asteroid, the Koreas, the Philippines, Japan and Taiwan may see the asteroid for what it is; it seems that what’s happening is nothing less than a miracle. Indeed a blessing in disguise may be, an inerrant, asteroid.

Indeed it seems that what’s happening is nothing less than a miracle. A blessing in disguise may be, an inerrant, asteroid. Blessed seem the lessons in the timing of everything that’s happening. And a blessing in disguise may be, an inerrant, asteroid.

In explanation of what’s happening, as surreally, implausible, as it seems. It shan’t be, maybe, neither Joe Biden nor me that rallies the people in the aftermath of an asteroid; the asteroid that saves the planet, from the ambitions — of Xi.

It maybe that neither Joe Biden nor me rallies the people in the aftermath of the asteroid; the one that saves the planet, from the ambitions of Xi. This I offer in explanation of what’s happening, as implausible as it seems. Still, I’m the one and only.