I
As an aide to the re-civilization of the Earth, I present to ye, wisdom. It exists upon the Earth, only in myth. On Earth, lots of things; way too many things, exist only in myth. Myths like the equality of men; and myths like, the still fantastical, equality of sisters with brothers.

On the good Earth, as good as it is — way too many things — exist only, in myth. Myths like the equality of men; and myths like the equality of sisters. Amongst the myths of the Earth, the myth surrounding the of the equality of the sexes, is less than typical. Mythical’s equality — for sisters.

Even if an asteroid were to strike us as soon as today or tomorrow the passing of the Queen could not be said to be causal. It would be just a coincidence; a synchronicity, possibly, meaningless. I suspect it’s not meaningless. So sayeth Arthur. And I agree with Arthur.

A Special Master hath spoken. And a state Attorney General. And an appellate court. Together, they’re ruining my Deep State exposé. Calling my bluffs, are they. Increasingly, I’m being hemmed in by liberal, do-gooders. Unpatriotic, are the do-gooders; judges; and Special Masters.

The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be my legacy-making, mega-best-seller. Ironic. In #twitterfiction, The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be the best-selling sequel, iconic; the sequel to my former best seller, The Art Of The Deal. Lest ‘tis for profit, for damn sure, I’m no prophet, ever.

Lest ‘tis for profit I ain’t no prophet. The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be a sequel, best-seller. My best ever. My legacy-making, mega-best-seller. In #twitterfiction, The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be the best-selling sequel, ironic, to The Art Of The Deal, my prior best seller.

In #twitterfiction, The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be the best-selling sequel, iconic, to my former best seller, The Art Of The Deal. Unless it’s for profit I ain’t no prophet. The Art Of The Steal: ‘Tis to be my sequel, best-seller. My best ever. My legacy-making, mega-best-seller.

A Special Master hath spoken. And a state Attorney General. They’re ruining my Deep State exposé. Calling my bluffs, are they. Increasingly, I’m finding the road to the presidency, blocked by liberal, do-gooders. Treasonous are the do-gooders.

It hasn’t been a good day. The Attorney General in New York hath spoken. She ruined my day. It appears that she’s suing me. She’s accusing me and my kids of some kind of wrongdoing. Increasingly, the road to the presidency, I find blocked by liberal, do-gooders.

The Special Master hath spoken. And he’s ruining my Deep State exposé. It appears that he’s calling my bluffs. And my attorneys’. It seems he’s not bluffing. Calling our bluffs, is he. Increasingly, the road to the presidency, I find blocked by liberal, do-gooders.

The Special Master speaks. And he hath spoken. It appears that he’s calling our bluffs. He’s calling my bluffs. And my attorneys’ And it seems, he’s not bluffing. Calling our bluffs, is he. My big case; my Deep State exposé, the Special Master is really, fucking, asunder.

Even if an asteroid were to strike us as soon as today or tomorrow the passing of the Queen could not be said to be causal. It would be just a coincidence; a synchronicity, possibly, meaningless. I suspect it’s not meaningless. So sayeth Arthur. And I agree with Arthur.

The Special Master hath spoken. And he’s ruining my Deep State exposé. It appears that he’s calling my bluffs. And my attorneys’. It seems he’s not bluffing. Calling our bluffs, is he. Increasingly, the road to the presidency, I find blocked by liberal, do-gooders.

CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE IS THIS

Against the abuses of the Deep State, this is civil disobedience. I’ve never seen anything like this; I’ve never seen anything like this Deep State. Nor have I ever seen anything like the civil disobedience of my fanatics. Incitement’s made easy, with strong, fire-water.

Incitement’s easy with my fire-water. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not since the fire-water days of the no name cowboys and misnamed Indians. But my fire-water‘s, non-alcoholic. And my cause is, patriotic. My cause is patriotic. And this is the quickest way back to power.

“The Storm is Coming”. Recently, I’ve been wearing a Q lapel pin. And unveiled at last night’s rally was an official fight-song along with, an official, salute. Witness the mesmerizing effect upon my morons of my Kool-Aid fire-water. Incitement’s easy — with fire-water.

I’ve come out! Officially! Last night’s official rally song and the official salute are but two of my ideas in development. In my embrace of QAnon, I’ve been wearing a Q lapel pin captioned “The Storm is Coming”. Witness the mesmerizing effect upon morons of Kool-Aid, fire-water.

My Kool-Aid. My special recipe. It’s some pretty strong stuff. And I’m spiking it with QAnon. That’s what we be drinking at my pep rallies. It drives us crazy. We get crazy drinking my potent Kool-Aid just like regular tap water. And so we drink — my Kool-Aid — poisoned, water.

Just made some Kool-Aid. And it’s some pretty strong stuff. And I’m spiking it with QAnon. That’s what we drink at my pep rallies. It drives us, really crazy. We get crazy drinking my potent Kool-Aid like regular, tap water. We drink my Kool-Aid, poisoned, water.

I often wonder. I often wonder why ordinary people don’t strive to be more like me. Whitish. Some say, orangeish. Nationalist. Populist. And not so much capitalist, as nepotist. Just made some Kool-Aid; spiking it with QAnon. Gonna get crazy. Drinking my Kool-Aid — like water.

Men betray themselves. When they open their mouths, especially. When they speak. And that’s whether they speak for themselves or for others. It’s always pays to think twice before opening one’s mouth. Be like me. Why folks aren’t more like me, I often wonder.

I’ve come out! Officially! Last night’s rally song is only the latest development in my embrace of QAnon. Earlier this week I posted to Truth Social a photo of myself wearing a Q lapel pin, captioned “The Storm is Coming”. Men betray themselves when they open their mouths to speak for others.

Be alarmed not, that an asteroid cometh. Don’t be alarmed. Such things, happen, on occasion. And don’t believe for even a New York minute that the occasion of the passing of the Queen in any way, portends or forebodes, the coming of an asteroid. So cautions, Arthur.

Don’t believe for even a minute that the occasion of the passing of the Queen in any sense portends or forebodes the coming of an asteroid. It’s just a coincidence; a synchronicity, possibly, meaningless. But it might not be at all meaningless, cautions, Arthur.

Even were an asteroid to strike us today or tomorrow, the passing of the Queen could not be said, to be causal. It would be chalked up to being just a coincidence; a synchronicity, possibly, meaningless. But it might not be meaningless, necessarily, cautions Arthur.

Even if an asteroid were to strike us as soon as today or tomorrow the passing of the Queen could not be said to be causal. It would be just a coincidence; a synchronicity, possibly, meaningless. I suspect it’s not meaningless. So sayeth Arthur. And I agree with Arthur.

It seems that little if anything is just a coincidence; a meaningless, synchronicity. I suspect that nothing, actually, is meaningless. So sayeth Arthur. And I agree with Arthur. Indubitably, The Watcher is the author of this. The Watcher — is the author.

BE NOT — ALARMED

Don’t be alarmed. Be alarmed not, that an asteroid cometh. Such things, happen, on occasion. And don’t believe for even a minute that the occasion of the passing of the Queen in any sense, portends or forebodes, the coming of an asteroid. So says Arthur.

Soon entereth methinks, the dragons. I assure ye: I’m not no prophet. Art’s not no prophet, neither. And actually, we have good reason to believe that its the Watcher who’s the author of this. The actual author of this is The Watcher. Unless, most implausibly, it really has been, me and Arthur.

There’s little time left to act. Soon, methinks, entereth — the dragons. For profit I assure ye, I’m not no prophet. And I assure ye, Art’s not no prophet, neither. Actually, we have good reason to believe that its the Watcher who’s the author of this. The actual author of this — is The Watcher.

The plots are thickening. And converging. There’s little time left, to act. Soon, methinks, enter the dragons. For the umpteenth time, I assure ye; I’m no prophet. Arthur’s not no prophet neither. We have good reason to believe that its the Watcher, who’s the author.

It’s looking bleak. For me. And for my party. But everybody knows there are lots of things one can do to enliven a party. There are games. And there are party favors. And lots of hullabaloo, distracting. In the case of the Earth tho, there’s little time left. So says Arthur.

For the umpteenth time, I assure. I’m no prophet. Arthur’s not no prophet neither. Actually, having considered this issue at length in our lunar soirées, we have good reason to believe that it is the Watcher who is the author actually. So says Arthur. But I daresay, I agree, with Arthur.

Indeed, I daresay; I agree with Arthur. For the umpteenth time, I assure; I’m no prophet. Neither’s Arthur. Only one thing’s for sure in this story. I’ll take the credit. Albeit we have good reason to believe that the Watcher is the actual author, I’ll get the credit for being the author.

The receipts for blockbuster movies are but a fraction of the take. Merchandising revenues represent the lion’s share of the income from a top-flight, action-hero, franchise. Like me and my cronies; Vlad’s guys. All new action antiheroes — for a new generation — of consumers.

Marvel Marvel at the blockbuster movies and the all important merchandising revenues flowing like golden rivers from the storylines and characters of me and my cronies; Vlad’s guys. Me and Vlad. And Vlad’s guys. All new action heroes — for a new generation — of consumers.

But for a couple of paradigm-shattering events yet to happen, the stage is all set. Marvel, ye pilgrims at the synchronicities: Me and Mar-a-Lago. Greenland. And Porto Rico. And in 2022, said Baba Vanga, cometh an asteroid; and the predicted, alien, visitors.

The stage is set. But for a couple of paradigm-shattering events yet to happen, the stage is all set. Marvel — ye itinerant pilgrims, at synchronicities askew — only seemingly. Mar-a-Lago. Greenland. Porto Rico. And in 2022; cometh an asteroid; and alien, visitors.

The Queen, is passed. Long live, the King. Great Britain’s Brexit, is duly, exited. Legally, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. And given seer Edgar Casee’s visions, it’s no wonder that I’ve been wondering: What is to become of us amidst such rapidly, rising, waters?

Butt naked are the kings. And the emperors. Lacking moral authority, by and large, are the leaders of our nations. Our kings. Our queens. Our presidents. Our prime ministers. And our emperors. Malignant narcissists, all too often — our national leaders — All too often — dictators.

Don’t be alarmed. Be alarmed not, that an asteroid cometh. Such things, happen, on occasion. And don’t believe for even a minute that the occasion of the passing of the Queen in any sense, portends or forebodes, the coming of an asteroid. So says Arthur.

BUTT NAKED — ARE THE KINGS

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Great Britain’s Brexit, is duly, exited. Ever increasingly, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. And given seer Edgar Casee’s visions, it’s no wonder that I’ve been wondering what is to become of us amidst such rapidly, rising, waters.

The idea to purchase Greenland was my own. One fine day I spotted the island on a map and asked my advisers, “Why don’t we have that? I love maps. Look at the size of this. It’s massive. That should be part of the United States,” I lied. The truth about Greenland, massively, differs.

As usual, I lied. I just can’t help it; force of habit, I guess. Indeed, I do love looking at maps. Their legends however make it difficult, if not impossible for me, to read them. With all the attention span of a gnat, my love of cartoons, early on, doomed — my budding career, as a reader.

Lord knows I’m glad I’m not Charles. No doubt it’s better to be treated like a king than it is to actually be a king. I hope to be treated fairly. In this case of mere storage space, God Almighty forbid that I be, to jail time, unfairly, treated. At all times, be like water.

Butt naked are the kings. And the emperors. Lacking moral authority, by and large, are the leaders of our nations. Our kings. Our queens. Our presidents. Our prime ministers. And our emperors. Malignant narcissists, all too often — our national — leaders.

Best of all, no one knows, that no clothes, hath the emperor. Butt naked! Butt naked are the kings. And the emperors. Lacking moral authority are the leaders of our nations. Our kings. Our queens. Our president. Our prime ministers. And our emperors.

It’s cool! Vlad’s not dead, yet. And there’s no evidence that any “purported “classified records” were disclosed to anyone,” My Mar-a-Lago resort club, is in fact, as I have disclosed, a “secure, controlled access, compound.” Best of all, no one knows that no clothes — hath the emperor!

Putin’s successful prosecution of the Special Operation in Ukraine and his internationally renowned statesmanship, have made him to some, in the motherland, unpopular. ‘Tis not a good look tho when ‘tis yer own bodyguards trying their utmost to send ye to meet yer maker.

Yet another victory was scored today by my ex-mentor, Vlad. Putin’s car was ‘attacked’ today in yet another assassination attempt. His successful prosecution of the Special Operation in Ukraine and his internationally renowned statesmanship, have made him, to some, unpopular.

An exegesis is a critical explanation or interpretation of a text, especially of scripture. The opposite of an exegesis (a drawing out) is an eisegesis (a drawing in). Eisegesis is often used in a derogatory sense. That is to say — eisegeses — are not in favor.

This work is either. Or neither. Or one. Or the other. That is to say: MORONS AND ALIENS is either. Or neither. Or one — or the other. Like beauty; like almost everything on the face of the Earth, the nature or essence of a thing is near invariably in the eye of the beholder.

Like beauty; like seemingly everything on the face of the Earth, the nature or essence of a thing is almost invariably in the eye of the beholder. Given, on Earth, the wide variability in perceptions, it’s little wonder therefore, the wide variability in opinions. And the prevalence, of error.

These ironies. They’re killing me. Excruciatingly. Slowly. The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Great Britain’s Brexit, is exited. Increasingly, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. Given Edgar Casee’s visions, it’s no wonder I wonder what is to become of us amidst these rising waters.

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Great Britain’s Brexit, is duly, exited. Ever increasingly, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. And given seer Edgar Casee’s visions, it’s no wonder that I’ve been wondering what is to become of us amidst such rapidly, rising, waters.

COMETH — CATHARSIS

Make no mistake. Cometh a catharsis; a catharsis, actually, already begun. Even before George Floyd’s life mattered, to many, less. It’s a catharsis continuing, with George’s Elizabeth’s, passing. Clever rhymes and topically relevant prescriptive witticisms may help us, be like water.

Even before black George Floyd’s life mattered, to some at least, less. It’s a catharsis continuing, with the passing of the white woman, Elizabeth. Queen to many was
Elizabeth. rhymes and topically relevant prescriptive witticisms may help us, be like water.

I’m glad I’m not Charles III. It’s far better to be treated like a king, no doubt, than it is to actually, be a king. I hope to be treated fairly. In a case of mere storage space, God Almighty forbid that I be, to jail time, unfairly, treated. At all times, be like water.

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Great Britain’s Brexit is over. Given Edgar Cayce’s visions and this federal FBI investigation, I wonder whether Mar-a-Lago is to be forever under water. And whether I can get a tax break if and when Mar-a-Lago lies, completely, under water.

God knows I’m glad I’m not Chuck. No doubt it’s better to be treated like a king than it is to actually be a king. I hope to be treated fairly. In this case of mere storage space, God Almighty forbid that I be, to jail time, unfairly, treated. At all times, be like water.

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Great Britain’s Brexit is over. Given Edgar Cavisions and this federal FBI investigation, I wonder whether Mar-a-Lago is to be forever under water. And whether I can get a tax break if and when Mar-a-Lago lies, completely, under water.

The Queen has passed. Long live the King! In song, the new lyrics, discomfit. Great Britain’s Brexit, is exited. Ever increasingly, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. Given Edgar Casee’s visions, it’s no wonder I wonder whether I can get a tax break when Mar-a-Lago’s under water.

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. I’m glad, I’m not him. I’m happy that I’m me. I could be doing worse than not being me. I might have been, one of ye. I can’t even imagine that. So I wonder I whether I can get some kind of tax break when Mar-a-Lago lies, more or less, under water?

In these trying times, take to heart the lesson I taught, once upon a time, to the great Bruce Lee. “Bruce,” I said then to him. “Be like water. Indeed, at all times, strive to be like water. In all matters, take the path of least resistance. Be — like me. Be — like water.”

Stricken had he been by the fluidity of my movement; and by the precision and the force of my strikes. In these trying times, I take to heart the lesson I once taught the great Bruce Lee. “Bruce,” I said, “be like water. In all matters, take the path of least resistance. Be like me. Be like water.

“Grasshopper,” I said to Bruce Lee; “strive always to be, like water. Take the path of least resistance. To be like me, be like water. Be as one with the flowing and rushing droplets of water. Be as one with every atom of hydrogen in every ocean of water!”

Long live the King. Still, I’m glad, I’m not him. I’m really happy, I’m me. I could have done a lot worse, had I not been me. I might have been, God forbid, one of ye. I can’t even imagine that. So I wonder about tax breaks, in cases like mine, of properties, increasingly, under water?

The Queen has passed. Long live the King. I’m glad, I’m not him. I’m happy that I’m me. I could be doing worse than not being me. I might have been, one of ye. I can’t even imagine that. So I wonder I whether I can get some kind of tax break when Mar-a-Lago lies, more or less, under water?

These ironies. They’re, killing me. Excruciatingly. Slowly. The Queen has passed. Long live the King. Britain’s Brexit, is exited. Ever increasingly, Mar-a-Lago’s, under water. Given Edgar Casee’s visions, I wonder whether I can get a tax break when Mar-a-Lago lies, under water.

COME. SHARE. BE AT PEACE — WITH US

Nara Park. It’s in Japan. And the Park’s deer are beyond fearing the humans who co-habit there, with them. It’s peaceful nowadays in Japan. In Hiroshima. And in Nagasaki. And perhaps nowhere is it on the planet than in Japan’s Nara Park. Come. Share a moment, of peace with us.

Wanna get away? Lounge. And look around us at the deer at Nara Park. Lounging on a soft pink carpet overlaying a grassy green carpet, near unseen. Wanna get away? Lounge with us deer amongst the cherry blossoms of Nara Park in Japan. Share a moment, of peace, with us.

The government has moved a loose cannon in Florida to reconsider her controversial decision granting me a Special Master and ordering a halt to the federal investigation against me. I’m no prophet. Still I predict that my Judge Cannon, shan’t rule, against us.

The government’s next move will be to the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit, where my appointees hold six of the court’s 11 active judgeships. And including white tornado Ginni, the Supreme Court, also, favors me. The Supreme Court, God willing, favors us.

But what about Bedminster? And Trump Tower? And what about all my other properties? What files might I be hiding in all those places? On top of all the scandals thus far, CIA operatives are mysteriously, dying. What have I been spying, on us?

Records retrieved from Mar-a-Lago were revealed to have included information about clandestine human sources; amongst the most guarded information in the intelligence community. But what about Bedminster? — And Trump Tower? What might I be hiding there, from us?

In 2021 there were a rash of mysterious deaths of our American spies. They were caught. And killed. The CIA has admitted to that. The deaths happened when I had custody — of the info of the spies. Is there a dead spy connection leading straight to the Commander-in-Chief of us?

Captured. And presumably tortured before they were killed. The CIA has already admitted to that. The deaths happened when I had custody over the information of the spies. It appears there a dead spy connection. It’s connected to me; the Commander-in-Chief of us.

So what if I kept personal documents alongside, highly classified, documents. That’s not mishandling them. And so what if I’m tied to dozens of CIA operatives, in 2021, disappearing. So what if they’ve, mysteriously, died. So what — if they’re no longer, with us.

Earth. It’s a jungle down there. And the Earthlings are a tough crowd. They’re not happy down there. It’s much safer for me to defer from any actual fighting in defense of us. Mark my words. If I have my way with historical revisionism, once again, I’ll preside over us.

It’s a jungle down there. A tough crowd, are the Earthlings. They’re not happy down there. I can vouch for that. It’s much safer for me to defer from fighting. Mark my words. Should I once again, have my way with my historical revisionism, again, I’ll preside over us.

That does it! I’ve had it! I’ve had it, up to here, I thought to myself, clutching, dramatically, at my neck. “He (Joe) is the enemy of the state.” Lumping Joe, the FBI and the DOJ together, knowingly, I upped — the ante. I upped the ante — for all of us.

Wanna get away? Lounge. And look around us at the deer at Nara Park. Lounging on a soft pink carpet overlaying a grassy green carpet, near unseen. Wanna get away? Lounge with us deer amongst the cherry blossoms of Nara Park in Japan. Share a moment, of peace, with us.

Nara Park. It’s in Japan. And the Park’s deer are beyond fearing the humans who co-habit there, with them. It’s peaceful nowadays in Japan. In Hiroshima. And in Nagasaki. And perhaps nowhere is it on the planet than in Japan’s Nara Park. Come. Share a moment, of peace with us.

MAGA REPUBLICANS

I’m fighting. And I’ll fight to the death. That’s the heroic image, I’m projecting. Albeit again cast as an antihero, as the author methinks it infinitely more convenient — and safer to get my shmucks to do my fighting for me. To do — all our fighting — for us.

Symbolically, I shall fight to the death for us. Like Putin tho, I need to find other bodies to do my actual fighting. Symbolically I shall be as if right behind ye. Indeed, I am fighting to the death for us. So I bravely, say. Witness: I am the antihero, scripting this.

I shall fight to the death for us. So, I less than bravely, say. But methinks it infinitely better to get my shmucks to do my fighting for me. Any actual fighting ought best be done by others, fighting on my behalf. Still, symbolically, I shall fight to the death — for us.

Free will and illusions aside, I’m not saying that the Devil deceived me; that the Devil tricked me. And I’m not saying that the Devil made me do it. But I’m only not saying it because I know that, increasingly, more and more, nobody’s believing me. And Joe says — I’m not — one of us.

Actually — in a very real sense, the Devil actually did make me do it; the Devil did, deceitfully, trick me. The Devil, to this day, bedevils me. I’ve only not been saying it because I know that, increasingly, except for MAGA Republicans, nobody’s believing me. And now Joe says — I’m not — one of us.

I’ve only not been saying it because I know that, increasingly, except for MAGA Republicans, nobody’s believing me. And now Joe says I’m not one of us. And Joe says that my MAGA Republicans, being with me, aren’t with us. Joe says we — are not — with us.

That does it. I’ve had it! I’ve had it, up to here, I thought to myself, clutching, dramatically, at my neck. “He (Joe) is the enemy of the state.” Lumping Joe, the FBI and the DOJ together, knowingly, I upped — the ante. I upped the ante — for all of us.

Knowingly, I’ve upped the ante. I’ve upped the ante for all of us. Lumping Joe and the FBI and the DOJ together; that won’t win me any friends at the Department of Justice, the FBI and the White House. But I’ve had it! I’ve had it, up to here! I’m upping the ante — for all of us.

I’ve upped the ante. I’ve upped it for all of us. Because, it is what it is. Backed into a corner of my own choosing, I’ve left myself, no room to maneuver. Given no choice, albeit suicidally, I must attack us. Given a position so untenable, like any self-respecting rat, I must — attack us.

Like any self-respecting rat, so trapped, I must attack. When so cornered, any self-respecting rat, must go on the attack. So cornered and trapped, turning around to face my hunter Biden, I open widely — my mouth. Baring, glistening teeth, I bedazzle Joe — attacking us.

Turning around to face my relentless hunter, Biden, I open widely, my mouth. Baring my glistening teeth, I try to bedazzle Joe. Like any self-respecting rat, so trapped — I must attack. When so cornered, any self-respecting rat, must go on the attack. I shall fight to the death — for us.

I shall fight to the death for us. So, I less than bravely, say. But methinks it infinitely better to get my shmucks to do my fighting for me. Any actual fighting ought best be done by others, fighting on my behalf. Still, symbolically, I shall fight to the death — for us.

Albeit recast as an antihero — as the author of this, methinks it infinitely more convenient — and safer, to get my shmucks to do my fighting for me. To get my shmucks do our fighting — for us. Certainly, it’s much safer for me to defer from any actual fighting, in defense of us.

Earth. It’s a jungle down there. And the Earthlings are a tough crowd. They’re not happy down there. It’s much safer for me to defer from any actual fighting in defense of us. Mark my words. If I have my way with historical revisionism, once again, I’ll preside over us.

MARK MY WORDS

Mark my words. If I have my way with historical revisionism, America may very well, be great again. When it’s properly, part of Urantia. It’s not for no reason that I’ve got even higher ratings in Russia than I do in America. Still, the Deep State, threatens us.

Revisionists. There’s not enough of us to go around. Certainly, there’s not enough of us to make each nation great. There’s only one of me, of course, to go around. The old guard, are aging. And not gracefully. Methinks, I ought, intervene. I ought be — the Dictator — of all of us.

If I have my way America may be great again. That’s why the Deep State can’t stand me. It’s why the Deep State has planted evidence at Mar-a-Lago. To frame me. To fabricate a case. To disqualify me from ever again, assuming the presidency and presiding again, over us.

Those good old days were just fine by us. They’re gone now. But if I have my way — America may be great — again. Alas, the Deep State has planted evidence at Mar-a-Lago. To frame me. To fabricate a case against me. To disqualify me from ever again, presiding, over us.

Those were the days they say; slavish days, for many. No days of wine and roses. Not for no slaves. But those — old days — were just fine, by us. The Deep State has planted evidence at Mar-a-Lago. To frame me. To fabricate a case against me. To disqualify me, from presiding, over us.

My cult of personality; it’s true that it’s mostly white folks. And property owners. And lots of the properties housed slaves back in the day. Back in the old days; the slavish days. No days of wine and roses, were they. Not for no slaves. But they were just fine for us.

In any event — an asteroid cometh. Upon its arrival, academic then becomes any debate on the illusoriness, or not, of that phenomenon we characterize and denominate as free will. In any event — an asteroid cometh. An asteroid cometh. And following it, cometh neighbors — to visit us.

Free will and illusions aside, I’m not saying that the Devil made me do it; that the Devil tricked me. I’m not saying that the Devil deceived me. But I’m only not saying it because I know that, increasingly, more and more, nobody’s believing me. And Joe says, I’m not — one of us.

Joe’s calling me out. Joe says I’m not one of us. And he says that my cult of MAGA Republicans are not, of us, as well. It’s an unconstitutional discrimination against conservative, law-abiding, Americans. It’s an unconstitutional discrimination, against us.

Joe says that my cult of MAGA Republicans are not of us. It’s an unconstitutional discrimination against, law-abiding, conservative, Americans. It’s an intolerable, unconstitutional discrimination, against us. And so I call upon my cult to defend me! Defend me! Defend us!

My cult of personality; it’s true that it’s white folks, mostly. And property owners, mostly. And lots of the properties housed slaves and their families back in the old days. Back in the old days; the slave days. No days of wine and roses were they. Not, for no slaves. But they were fine — for us

My cult of personality; it’s true that it’s mostly white folks. And property owners. And lots of the properties housed slaves back in the day. Back in the old days; the slavish days. No days of wine and roses, were they. Not — for no slaves. But they were fine — for us.

In any event — an asteroid cometh. Upon its arrival, academic then becomes any debate on the illusoriness, or not, of that phenomenon we characterize and denominate as free will. In any event — an asteroid cometh. An asteroid cometh. And following it, cometh neighbors — to visit us.

Free will and illusions aside, I’m not saying that the Devil made me do it; that the Devil tricked me. I’m not saying that the Devil deceived me. But I’m only not saying it because I know that, increasingly, more and more, nobody’s believing me. And Joe says, I’m not — one of us.

ALAS, ALAS, ALAS

Verily, I say to thee: Alas! Alas! Alas! Triple Alas! Joe gave a speech in Philly yesterday. In it, he called me out, by name. And he called out the members of my cult. MAGA Republicans he called us. As if MAGA Republicans ultimately may be, the death of us.

Joe gave a speech in Philly. And he who rarely mentions me, in it, called me out by name. In fact, he wore my name out! And he called out the members of my cult. MAGA Republicans he called us by name. As if, patriotic MAGA Republicans may ultimately be, the death of us.

There’s a lot to be said. About obstruction. About construction. About destruction. And reconstruction. And Joe, it appears, is far fitter than me. Sure, like me; he flubs his lines. Sure, like me, Joe seems old; and past his prime. Unlike me, there’s no doubt, Joe’s — all about — us.

Obstructionists, are us. Me, and my party. Under the influence of me, is practically, the entire party. The entire party, with but few exceptions, under my thrall and under my spell have fallen. Today’s GOP’s got no balls. Mine are the biggest. In testosterone, I’ve found, big-balled, hubris.

Obstructionists, indeed, are us. Me, and my party. Under the influence of me, practically, is the entire party. The entire party, with but few exceptions is under my thrall; under my spell. Today’s GOP’s got no balls. Mine are the biggest. In testosterone lies, big-balled, hubris.

The irony is killing me. I am almost certain to be indicted soon for the same crime, obstruction, that Edward Snowden and Julian Assange were charged with. Obstruction, I said at the time is a crime that ought be punishable — by death. That’s my opinion. Obstructionists are us.

Wherever there is intelligence and curiosity, there is imagination. I imagine it is in the state, post-tribal stage of the development of civilizations that civilizations, sabotage themselves. Nations deem themselves best. It’s a common delusion — also, common to us.

It is in the post-tribal stage of the development of civilizations, that civilizations sabotage themselves. When one deems itself better, or best. It’s a delusion common. Thus, I am come to deliver us. By the Grace of God I am come to deliver us. God willing, I will deliver us.

God willing, I’ll deliver. I will deliver us. I will deliver us. God hath so willed it. No matter however, what I may say, The Watcher is the author of this psychographic writing. So hath Arthur (Arturo), explained this mysterious phenomenon to me. Art hath explained this phenomenon to us.

Astonishing plot twists, yet await. Prominent amongst them promise to be the coming to pass of Baba Vanga’s twin predictions for 2022. An asteroid — and aliens. But I suspect that the creatures Baba viewed as alien were/are, actually, Earthlings, subterranean,

Momentous events, cometh to the great planet Earth. Not late yet, is the Earth. Astonishing, plot twists, yet await. Prominent amongst them, the coming to pass of Baba Vanga’s twin predictions for 2022. An asteroid — and aliens — (possibly) subterraneans.

Cometh indeed, as preordained, momentous events. Unlike predestination, foreordination does not exclude yer free will. Alas, as with everything, free will also, may be so. In any event, momentous events, cometh. Astonishing plot twists; amongst them, subterraneans, neighboring us.

In any event — an asteroid cometh. Upon its arrival, academic then becomes any debate on the illusoriness, or not, of that phenomenon we characterize, and denominate as, free will. In any event — an asteroid cometh. An asteroid cometh. And following it, cometh neighbors — to visit us.

WORD SALAD — HALCYON DAYS

Calling for a special master to review my seized possessions was nothing less than brilliant. The photo submitted by the DOJ last night, was nothing — not planted. A pic of some odd, oddly typed pages — and a good pic of me. And so I call on us not — to do — nothing, for us.

The photo submitted by the DOJ last night, was nothing — if not, planted. A picture of some odd and oddly typed, odd pages and a pretty damn good picture of me. Calling for a special master to review my seized possessions was nothing less than brilliant. I call upon — militias — of us.

Lately, in particular, my credibility’s been taking a beating; a real, shellacking. I know I’m down. Still, I’m not out. I’m no prophet. Just a man of great faith. And I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us.

I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us. If they don’t eradicate us they promise at least, to change us, profoundly. To correct, our course. To change, us. Cometh game-changers — to profoundly, change us.

Wanderlüsten’s, wanderlust. It is in the state, post-tribal stage, of the development of civilizations that fledgling civilizations, sabotage, themselves. When their nation, is best. It’s a delusion, common on Earth to us. I am come to deliver us. By the Grace of God I am come to — deliver us.

Wherever there is intelligence and curiosity, there too one may find, in created beings, Wanderlüsten’s, wanderlust. It is in the tribal stage of the development of civilizations that they sabotage themselves. When their nation’s, best. It’s a delusion, common on Earth, to us.

Intelligence and curiosity; in the seven universes, they go hand in hand. The Moon bugs and the Mars bugs that have infected us mirror bugs in neighboring galaxies and universes. Wherever in the universe there is intelligence and curiosity, there is Wanderlüsten’s, wanderlust.

Apollo, as everyone knows, visited with Luna already. And Apollo says Artemis should check for water at Luna’s South Pole, prior to Earth — returning. We’ll give it another go on Friday. And on Monday, if necessary. Moon bugs and Mars bugs — They’ve infected us.

Godspeed Artemis! Godspeed to Luna! Godspeed to Luna and back! I’m no prophet but I see Artemis safely Godspeeding to Luna! And back! His brother Apollo, everyone knows, visited there already, Apollo says Artemis should check for water at Luna’s South Pole, ere, returning, to us.

I’m no prophet but I believe I see, in my mind’s eye, Artemis safely Godspeeding to Luna! And all the way back to an Earthly, splashdown. Apollo, having visited first, sees Artemis landing at Luna’s South Pole to check for water before then, returning to us.

NASA runs the risk of getting egg on its face. If we get, surprised. If Earth is stricken by an asteroid coming out of the glare, of the sun. Like dinosaurs, of yore. Caught with their pants down. Bad for NASA. Perhaps not fatal to the agency, alas, unlike perhaps, all too many of us.

On Earth, victim, is falling, mankind. Victim to a common mass delusion. That no matter the nation, one’s nation’s the best. It’s a delusion far more common than is commonly imagined. It is in fact, common, relatively speaking. Across the universes, there’s actually, lots like us.

Intelligence and curiosity; in the seven universes, they go hand in hand. The Moon bugs and the Mars bugs that have infected us mirror bugs in neighboring galaxies. And universes. Wherever in the universe there is intelligence and curiosity, there is Wanderlüsten’s, wanderlust.

Wherever there is intelligence and curiosity, there too one may find, in created beings, Wanderlüsten’s, wanderlust. It is in the tribal stage of the development of civilizations, that they sabotage themselves. That one’s nation’s the best. It’s a delusion, common on Earth, to us.

I’M A PROTOTYPE — NEW BREED — OF ANTIHERO

Exceptionalism; born of a collective hubris, notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us. Alluring is the siren song like chant, “We’re number one!” Were I wiser I might , well ask of the new breed of Marvel antiheroes, “Who will stand with us?

On Earth, victim, is falling mankind. Victim to a common mass delusion. That no matter the nation, one’s nation’s, best. On Earth devolution’s happening fastest in America. Only inflation, seems faster. My kind’s, the best kind. Notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us.

Victim has fallen mankind to a common mass delusion. That no matter the nation, one’s nation’s, best. On Earth, devolving fastest is America. Only inflation, seems faster. My kind’s, the best kind. Notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us.

My kind’s, the best kind. In America, it’s Americans. In China, it’s the Chinese. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion, no matter the nation, that his kind is best. Exceptionalism; born of a collective hubris, notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us.

Brace yerselves. Not for the asteroid. That comes later. This is revisionist history in the making. The Special Master may yet surprise us. She might find me privileged. More likely, probably not. Nobody knows. Nobody knows what the Watcher knows. Certainly, not us.

Everybody knows, I’m guilty as sin. Humans won’t believe; not at least, until they see. Still, the Special Master may surprise us. The Special Master yet find me more than just, white-privileged. That would sure be a blockbuster. That, would surprise us.

The Special Master may surprise us. More likely, probably not. Everybody knows. Humans won’t believe; not at least, until they see. Still, the Special Master may surprise us. The Special Master yet might find me privileged. That would be a blockbuster. That, would surprise us.

There’s not much space to write in — in a Post-It note. And I write, distinctively, in big, bold letters. Except by me, the facts, are undisputed. And handwriting analyses and videos and audios, incriminate me. Still — cometh, plot twists. The Special Master, may surprise us.

A man of great faith, I’m truthful. And humble. And like all of Vlad’s guys, I try to write, like Ernest, powerfully. Keeping one’s sentences short has advantages. It helps to keep our Post-It notes, short. That’s important. There’s not much space to write in, in a Post-It note, for any of us.

Ye can ask anyone. Everyone knows. Everyone knows I’m a man of no faith. Not truthful. Not honorable. Not humble. Not lovable, in the least. I write, however, thanks to Ernest Hemingway, in short sentences. The narcissism of Vlad’s guys is super malignant. It’s got a hold of us.

We write, thanks to Ernest Hemingway, in short sentences. And in big, bold, letters. The narcissism of Vlad’s guys is malignant. It’s got a hold of me. And it’s got a hold of us. Ye can ask anyone. But no one will know. Hubris has a nefarious, super-malignant, hold on us.

Ye can ask anyone. No one will know; that I’m a man of great faith. Truthful. Honorable. And humble. No one knows that I write, thanks to Ernest, in short, sentences; and that my hubris-fueled, extreme narcissism, is malignant. It’s got a hold of me. As a consequence, it’s got a hold of us.

NASA’s certainly in denial about this. About the asteroid. And beings, not us. And NASA’s gonna have egg on its face if the Earth is stricken by an asteroid from the sun’s glare. Like the dinosaurs, we’ll be caught, with our pants down. Embarrassing for NASA. Fatal, to many of us.

NASA’s gonna have egg on its face. If the Earth is stricken by an asteroid coming out of the glare of the sun. We look, to get surprised. Like dinosaurs of yore. Caught with our pants down, it’ll be, for NASA, embarrassing. But perhaps not fatal to the agency, unlike, many of us.

NASA’S IN DENIAL

Obvious is the game-changing potential of any asteroid of game-changing, size. Obvious also is the game-changing potential of any intelligent beings in the universal, galactic or solar, systems. But NASA’s in denial. About the asteroid. And about beings, not us.

NASA’s in denial about this. About the asteroid. And beings, not us. NASA’s gonna have egg on its face if the Earth is stricken by an asteroid coming out of the sun’s glare. Like the dinosaurs, we’ll be caught, with our pants down. Embarrassing for NASA. Fatal to many of us.

There are game-changers — a-coming. Obvious is the game-changing potential of the asteroid and the beings that some suspect are aliens, extraterrestrial. Personally, I suspect, that the beings are subterranean, Earthlings; not surface dwellers, like us.

I happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us. If they don’t eradicate us they promise at least, to change us, profoundly. To correct, our course. To change, us. Cometh game-changers — to profoundly, change us.

I can sell ye a secret. Or two. Or two hundred thousand of them. I’ve learned a lot from my mentors. All transactions must be either in cash or crypto. All transactions are final. Please. No returns. Don’t return any docs to us. Don’t thrown yerself under any, proverbial, bus.

I tell ye a secret. I can sell ye a secret. Or two. Or a lot of them. I’ve learned a lot from my mentors. From my Daddy; Roy Cohn; and Vladimir Putin. All transactions must be either in cash or crypto. And final. Don’t return any docs to us. Don’t get thrown, under a bus.

I’m killing it. Some say I’m absolutely, pulverizing it. Being in the news; having everyone talking about me. I’m funny that way. In my private moments I consider the bitter ironies. I excel at bringing people together. I must say; verily, I bring out the best in us.

Being in the news; having everyone, talking about me. Whether I’m spoken highly of, seems not to matter. I’m funny that way. In my more private moments I consider the bitter irony of it all. In a very real way I tend to bring people together. I must say. Truly — I bring out the best in us.

Ye can ask anyone. Everyone knows. Everyone knows I’m a man of no faith. Not truthful. Not honorable. Not humble. Not lovable, in the least. At least tho I write, thanks to Ernest Hemingway, in short sentences. The narcissism of Vlad’s guys is super, malignant. And it’s got a hold of us.

A man of great faith, I’m truthful. And humble. And like all of Vlad’s guys, I try to write, like Ernest, powerfully. Keeping one’s sentences short has advantages. It helps to keep our Post-It notes, short. That’s important. There’s not much space to write in, in a Post-It note, for any of us.

We write, thanks to Ernest Hemingway, in short sentences. And in big, bold, letters. The narcissism of Vlad’s guys is malignant. It’s got a hold of me. And it’s got a hold of us. Ye can ask anyone. But no one will know. Hubris has a nefarious, super-malignant, hold on us.

Ye can ask anyone. No one will know; that I’m a man of great faith. Truthful. Honorable. And humble. No one knows that I write, thanks to Ernest, in short, sentences; and that my hubris-fueled, extreme narcissism, is malignant. It’s got a hold of me. As a consequence, it’s got a hold of us.

Lately, in particular, my credibility’s been taking a beating; a real, shellacking. I know I’m down. Still, I’m not out. I’m no prophet. Just a man of great faith. And I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us.

I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us. If they don’t eradicate us they promise at least, to change us, profoundly. To correct, our course. To change, us. Cometh game-changers — to profoundly, change us.

MY CREDIBILITY — IS SHOT

Lately especially my credibility’s been taking a beating; a real, shellacking. I know I’m down. Still, I’m not out. I’m no prophet. I’m a man of great faith. And I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us.

Heroically, but unsuccessfully, I have been trying to warn us. Increasingly tho, people don’t believe me. I know. That’s hard to believe. And lately, especially, my credibility’s been taking a beating. I’m down. But I’m not out — There are game-changers a-coming — to visit, with us.

Against astronomical odds, heroically, I have been trying — without success — to warn us. Unbeknownst to us, there are dynamic undercurrents operating here. We are blind; totally oblivious to them. Amongst them are an asteroid and an alien invasion/visitation of us.

Eventually, I’ll get the credit for everything. I’ve gotten into the habit of taking credit for everything. It’s the Trump Touch. In time, the Trump Touch will supplant the Midas Touch and work it’s way into the dictionary. The Trump Touch. I’m all excited about this. And us.

Arthur has recounted to me, various moments he has described to me as his ‘Eureka’ moments. Once, in a bathtub. Once, when a massive tree fell atop him. Once, when stricken by ball lightning. More often they come when I write about me. And us.

I’ll get the credit for all of them. I’ve gotten into the habit of taking credit for things I‘ve little or nothing to do with. It’s the Trump Touch. In time, the Trump Touch will supplant the Midas Touch and work it’s way into the dictionary. The Trump Touch. I’m all — about us.

Or maybe it was Arthur’s moment. Sorry. I’ve got a habit of taking credit for things I may have or have had little to nothing to do with. More importantly, I gotta get someone besides Arthur to believe me. About Baba Vanga. About an asteroid. About subterraneans. And us.

A Eureka moment, once upon a time, I once experienced, in my bathtub. “Eureka, I have found it,” I exclaimed. Having discovered TwittereZe, I quickly realized that TwittereZe, in conjunction with Google Translate, offers us a weapon to combat, common, human hubris.

It was Arthur’s moment. It’s a bad habit; that taking credit for things I may have or have had little or nothing to do with. I’m working on it. More importantly, I gotta get someone besides Arthur to believe me. About Baba Vanga. The asteroid. Subterraneans. And us.

I’ve been tweeting. I’ve been tweeting to Earth’s power brokers; it’s movers and shakers. The Presidents. The Prime Ministers. To Kings. And Queens. And private persons, also. Against astronomical odds I have nonetheless, been trying — without success, to warn us.

The FBI raid allows for a counterattack against the Deep State. I’ve been tweeting to Earth’s movers and shakers. Presidents. Prime Ministers. Kings. NGOs. And some individuals. Like Elon Musk. And Avi Loeb. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us.

This latest self-inflicted wound, this latest scandal, I believe it may be a game changer. The FBI raid, I believe, allows for a counterattack against the Deep State. I’ve been tweeting to the movers and shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us.

Heroically, but unsuccessfully, I have been trying to warn us. Increasingly tho, people don’t believe me. I know. That’s hard to believe. And lately, especially, my credibility’s been taking a beating. I’m down. Still, I’m not out — There are game-changers a-coming — to visit, with us.

Lately especially my credibility’s been taking a beating; a real, shellacking. I know I’m down. Still, I’m not out. I’m no prophet. I’m a man of great faith. And I just happen to know that there are game-changers a-coming to visit with us. And their visits, may change us.

BLOOD-SOAKED EARTH — BLOOD-SOAKED RIVERS

I pinch myself. It hurts. Cutting myself, I bleed. The earth is blood-soaked. It’s rivers too sometimes flow heavily with their colorful, but heavy, added weight. History’s trajectory. It’s more foreboding than portending. But I’ve got super powers, most extraordinary.

This is incredible — albeit — only seemingly. Still, most implausibly, that orange face looming over the Earth portends in one possible end, not disaster, but prosperity. I’m not being limited to super powers, gone sundry, I’m not, so limited. I’ve got powers, even more, extraordinary.

It’s the Ripple Effect. More on that later. Suffice it to say in the meantime: The Good Lord worketh — in mysterious ways. Often through gifted but weak and more or less, flawed, characters. That orange face looming over the Earth my be in portent of looming prosperity.

I’ve got truly amazing super powers. Nothing so mundane as super strength, invisibility and the like; I’m talking about really astonishing super powers. Powers like super knowledge and super wisdom; and like my super powers of observation, uncanny.

Marvelous; I’ll give ya that. But the market, Marvel, as ye know, is ever changing; the demographics, ye know, are ever changing. I’ve got super powers. Powers like super knowledge and super wisdom; and my super powers of observation, uncanny.

Not all that surprisingly, more and more, people go out of their way to be out of state. Out of touch. all of a sudden, my loving family. Nobody wants anything to do with me. For the Dems, I’ll always be remembered as the gift that ever goes on giving, the destroyer, of parties.

I’d planned on seizing the moment; I’d planned on more quickly crafting, my talking points. To quickly posit for public consumption a common, favorable, narrative. But nobody wants anything to do with me. Not lawyers. Not, unsurprisingly, my loving family.

Remember the Alamo! Remember Mar-a-Lago! In the aftermath of The Raid, I’d planned on turning the tables on the feds; seizing the moment, I pounced on the crafting of the narrative. But nobody trusts me; and seemingly, no self respecting lawyer, will represent me.

Fear me. Because it’s exceedingly impossible for one to make too much money, I stole top secrets from the government. I stole secrets from us. Hundreds of pages of highly classified documents; I have stolen secrets from the government. I stole secrets from us. Fear me.

Fear me. Because for better and worse I The Donald have been fated. For better and for worse I (Kremlin Agent 4547) have drawn the cosmic bit part that on Earth is such a big deal part, big part. I am flawed. Some dare to say that I broke the law. Still, too many, praise me. Fear me.

The subterraneans have observed with some consternation the remarkable suspicion with which Earthlings regard one another. And their at times remarkable hostility and cruelty with one another. Notably, the Earthlings have proven, hostile, to Messianics.

What are the odds, I’d wondered. What, I’d wondered, might be the odds that I alone, amongst all humanity, by the sheer force of my will, might force humanity, to transform? And so I consulted, oddsmakers, in Vegas. What are the odds; and the pros and cons of being, Messianic?

This latest self-inflicted wound, this latest scandal, I believe it may be a game changer. The FBI raid I believe, allows for a counterattack against the Deep State. I’ve been tweeting to the movers and shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us.

This latest scandal; this latest self-inflicted wound, to the incredulous delight of many, will make my evasion of taxes look like child’s play. Like child’s play is evading the long arm of the law. Like Houdini’s escapes — spectacular, shall be mine. I may be, once again, president of us.

HANDS OFF — MY THIEVERY

On Earth, the Earthlings have proven hostile, to Messianics. What are the odds, I’d wondered. What, I’d wondered, might be the odds that I alone, amongst all humanity, by the sheer force of my will, might force humanity, to transform? And so I consulted, oddsmakers, in Vegas.

What are the odds, I wondered. What are the odds that events, prophesied, actually, happen? The odds, I’ll bet, are exceedingly long. I’ve been tweeting to movers and shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us. And so I called, the oddsmakers, in Vegas.

I’ve been tweeting to the movers and shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us. After all, what are the odds? What are the odds? What are the odds that even one of Baba Vanga’s prophesies comes true? What are the odds of this happening to us?

I’ve been tweeting to the movers and the shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to, somehow, warn us. And so I called the oddsmakers in Vegas. They’ve assured me that without empirical data, there’s no way to establish such a line. So say, the oddsmakers, in Vegas.

This latest self-inflicted wound, this latest scandal, I believe it may be a game changer. The FBI raid I believe, allows for a counterattack against the Deep State. I’ve been tweeting to the movers and shakers. Against all the odds, I’ve been trying to warn us.

This latest scandal; this latest self-inflicted wound, to the incredulous delight of many, will make my evasion of taxes look like child’s play. Like child’s play is evading the long arm of the law. Like Houdini’s escapes — spectacular, shall be mine. I may be, once again, president of us.

Victim has fallen mankind to a common mass delusion. That no matter the nation, one’s nation’s, best. On Earth devolution’s happening fastest in America. Only inflation, seems faster. My kind’s, the best kind. Notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us.

My kind’s, the best kind. In America, it’s Americans. In China, it’s the Chinese. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion, no matter the nation, that his kind is best. Exceptionalism; born of a collective hubris, notions of national exceptionalism, existentially, threaten us.

On Earth devolution’s happening fastest in America. Only inflation, seems faster. Even that may yet turn out to be, yet another illusion. Illusions like exceptionalism, American — and Chinese. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion — that his kind is the best kind upon the face of the Earth.

Illusions like the exceptionalism of whatever race, nationality or religion with which one happens to identify. Our races, our nationalities and our religions, especially. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion that his kind is the best kind upon the face of the Earth. ’Tis what ’tis — on Earth.

An imposing physical specimen, am I; an intellectual too; the best that our planet has to offer. I’ve got, bar none, the biggest balls, on the planet. And hubris in my DNA. I stole top secrets from us. I’m good tho at covering my tracks. I could make a good living, stealing from us.

Fear me. Because it’s impossible for one to make too much money, I stole top secrets from the government. I stole top secrets from us. Hundreds of pages of highly classified documents; I stole top secrets from the government. I stole top secrets — from us.

Indeed, shit happens. The markets constantly change; evolving in- time with the ever changing demographics. As everyone knows, I’ve got super powers. And ever increasing knowledge. Fear me. I stole our top secrets from the government. I stole top secrets — from us.

On Earth, the Earthlings have proven hostile, to Messianics. What are the odds, I’d wondered. What, I’d wondered, might be the odds that I alone, amongst all humanity, by the sheer force of my will, might force humanity, to transform? And so I consulted, oddsmakers, in Vegas.

SHIT HAPPENS

Indeed, shit happens. The markets, as ye know, constantly change; ever changing demographics, ye know. As everyone knows, I’ve got super powers. And my ever increasing knowledge. Fear me. I know what ye can only imagine I know. That’s, for certain.

Shit happens. I was in a hurry last January. I was in a real hurry back then. Everyone in my administration knows I was busy seeing to the peaceful transfer of power from me to Joe. Joe knows. Joe knows that my intentions were honorable. Joe knows, I’ve become, an egalitarian.

Momentous events are happening. As promised I’ve had filed a major motion. The motion was intentionally filed on behalf of the major figure, “President Donald J. Trump” rather than on behalf of me as the major private-citizen-satyr. I’m a satyr. That’s, for certain.

Additional footage is being sought from me because DOJ investigators are not certain they have recovered all classified materials I may have unintentionally taken whilst leaving the White House in January in such a hurry. Shit happens. Oy ve! That’s, for certain.

Astonishing plot twists, yet await. Prominent amongst them promise to be the coming to pass of Baba Vanga’s twin predictions for 2022. An asteroid — and aliens. But I suspect that the creatures Baba viewed as alien were/are, actually, Earthlings, subterranean.

Momentous events, cometh to the great planet Earth. Not late yet, is the Earth. Astonishing, plot twists, yet await. Prominent amongst them, the coming to pass of Baba Vanga’s twin predictions for 2022. An asteroid — and aliens — (possibly) subterraneans.

Cometh indeed, as preordained, momentous events. Unlike predestination, foreordination does not exclude yer free will. As with everything illusory, free will may also, be so. In any event, momentous events, cometh. Astonishing plot twists; amongst them — subterraneans.

On Earth — what’s out of sight is often — out of mind. But not, necessarily. What’s out of sight and indeed, what’s never been seen may be all that one, metaphysically, may see. Witness — for one thing, what’s ne’er seen by (wo)man. Witness — Creation. Witness — Heaven.

It’s not easy to see what’s out of sight; what’s over the horizon; out in space; in the Earth; or underseas. On top of everything, the Creator’s tall tale stories excel in their plot twists. Cometh soon, a plot twist from left field — galactically speaking. Cometh soon, the subterraneans.

Indeed it’s not easy to see what’s out of sight; what leaves the field of vision; or was never in it. On Earth, what’s out of sight is often out of mind. But not necessarily. What’s out of sight and indeed, what’s never been seen, may be all one sees. Witness — ne’er seen by (wo)man — Heaven.

Recall, before his passing, Sir Hawking’s final warning to us of any aliens that we might, in some future, happen upon. Recall Sir Stephen Hawking’s somber warning to us. Trust not in any aliens, he warned. But what what might have he said, of, not aliens, but subterraneans?

Recall Sir Hawking’s final warning to us of any aliens that we might, in some future, happen upon. Recall Sir Stephen Hawking’s stark warning. Trust not in any aliens, he warned. But what what might have he said of — not just any aliens, but our, subterraneans?

Plot lines are converging. And even as an asteroid approaches; even as Vlad and his guys jostle for geopolitical position, cometh, as preordained, a series of events. Thank God for the Prime Directive. Thank God that it’s co-signatories may be include, unknown subterraneans.

Cometh, as preordained, momentous events. Thank God for Star Trek; for Gene Roddenberry; and for the Prime Directive. And thank God that it’s co-signatories may include, our very own, Earthling, subterraneans. I suspect that good guys are, the subterraneans.

Thank God for Star Trek; for Gene Roddenberry; and for the Prime Directive. And that it’s co-signatories may include, most implausibly, our own subterraneans. I suspect that good guys are those, co-habiting with us. Cometh, as preordained, after an asteroid, neighboring, subterraneans.

Cometh indeed, as preordained, momentous events. Unlike predestination, foreordination does not exclude yer free will. But with everything illusory, free will may also be so. In any event, momentous events, cometh. Astonishing plot twists; prominent amongst them — subterraneans.

EARTH — GAIA — URANTIA

Earth. Gaia. Urantia. Nebadon. Black hole, big pictures. The big picture. Impossible for most (not me) to see, what’s out of sight; over the horizon. Out in space. In the Earth. Or under the seas. On top of everything, the Creator’s tall tale story excels in it’s plot twists. Cometh soon, the subterraneans.

It’s not easy to see what’s out of sight; what’s over the horizon; out in space; in the Earth; or underseas. On top of everything, the Creator’s tall tale story excels in its plot twists. Cometh soon a plot twist from left field, galactically, speaking. Cometh, the subterraneans.

Indeed it’s not easy to see what’s out of sight; what leaves the field of vision; or was never, in it. On Earth, what’s out of sight is often, out of mind. But not, necessarily. What’s out of sight and indeed, what’s never been seen, may be all that one sees. Witness, Heaven.

Soon, shall reveal themselves, the subterraneans. Taken together, a time-traveling, antiheroic protagonist and planet full of morons and their subterranean neighbors make for a hopeful story. It stars Earth’s surface Earthlings and the soon to be revealed subterraneans.

On top of everything, His tall tale story excels in it’s plot twists. Comes now, in 2022, in quick succession, an inerrant asteroid and those that follow. It’s impossible of course for anyone (not me) to sense what I sense. Only I can do this. And I will — with the help of the Chinese. And subterraneans.

Clearly fictional. Less than clearly, nonfictional. A story of a planet full of morons and their subterranean neighbors. A hopeful story. Of Earth’s surface Earthlings and soon to be revealed subterraneans. After the asteroid, shall reveal themselves, the subterraneans.

The proof’s in the pudding. This allegory, so clearly fictional, isn’t as clearly, nonfictional. It’s the story of a planet of morons and their less than neighborly subterranean neighbors. It’s the incredible story of Earth’s surface Earthlings and its subterraneans.

Since The Fall, everything on Earth seems tragically connected. Witness, this tragic human comedy. Drama interspersed occasionally by tired, less than comic, comedy. Looking on the carnage over the ages, it’s no wonder, reluctant to meet us are, subterraneans.

I’ve only recently learned about some of what’s happening; the climate change part; a part increasingly difficult to ignore. Seemingly oblivious to the magnificent vast majority of what’s happening. This is a story of morons and their less than neighborly, neighbors, subterranean.

Problematic have become we humans to these less than neighborly, neighbors. I’ve but recently learned about what’s happening; that hydrocarbons and plastics pollute.
Still, we haven’t yet learned that we’re sharing this planet with unknown, subterraneans.

Problematic indeed have become we humans to these less than neighborly neighbors. Only recently have we begun to learn about what’s happening; that hydrocarbons and plastics pollute. And we haven’t yet learned that we’re sharing this planet, with unknown, subterraneans.

Since The Fall everything on Earth seems connected. Witness, this tragic human comedy. Drama interspersed on occasion, by an always tired, and less than comic, comedy. Looking on the carnage over the ages, it’s no wonder that reluctant to meet have been the subterraneans.

By nature, physically weak, they are wary of us. And our decisions as a species hadn’t until recently become so problematic. But problematic have become we humans to the aliens. Plastics, pollute. Hydrocarbons, too. And we share this planet with the subterraneans.

Plot lines are converging. An asteroid approaches. And even as Vlad and his guys jostle for geopolitical position, cometh, as preordained, in their proper order, a series, of events. Thank God for the Prime Directive. And that co-signatories are — our very own — subterraneans.

PROBLEMATIC ARE THE HUMANS

Since The Fall everything on Earth seems tragically connected. Witness, this tragic human comedy. Drama interspersed on occasion, by an always tired, and less than comic, comedy. Looking on the carnage over the ages, it’s no wonder that — reluctant to meet have been the subterraneans.

By nature physically weak, they are wary of us. And our decisions as a species hadn’t until recently become so problematic. But problematic have become we humans to the aliens. Plastics, pollute. Hydrocarbons, too. And we share this planet with the subterraneans.

It appears that our decisions as a species hadn’t until recently become so problematic to our subterranean neighbors. Almost needless to say, especially problematic have become we humans in the age of industrialization to our brethren, subterranean.

It’s no wonder they’re reluctant to meet. Sharing the planet with us are beings superior to us. Physically weak, naturally, they are wary of us. And our decisions as a species hadn’t until recently become so problematic. Problematic are we humans to the aliens.

An entire civilization right under our noses have constructed, the suspected aliens; the so-called aliens that I suspect are actually, subterranean in nature. It’s no wonder that reluctant to meet us have been the aliens. But an asteroid a-coming, is a-linking, humans and aliens.

Looking on over the carnage over the ages, it’s little wonder that reluctant to meet us have been — and continue to be, the so-called aliens. Subterraneans, I suspect, they actually are. An entire civilization right under our noses, have constructed, the subterraneans.

I know a thing or two about perfection. Recall my perfect conversation with Volodymyr from the first of my two impeachments. Volodymyr. The comedian — turned politician turned — national hero. A tragic comedy — Russian.
A drama, less than comic, Ukrainian.

Back channel communications; they’re the backbone of that game diplomats know as diplomacy. It’s all show; perfectly staged; perfectly scripted. I know a lot about perfection. Recall my perfect conversation with the Ukrainian comedian turned politician. A tragic comedy — Russian.

Less than completely forthcoming with me have been the aliens. Numbed by the sheer volume of the events happening around me, and their gravity, I’m struggling to put into context, the few clues, given. I’m not at all sure, I can trust, these aliens, perhaps, subterranean.

“We monitor,” the aliens last night thought to me, “communications on Earth.” So thought to me last night, the aliens. I must confess that I was at once, stunned and chilled. I’ve been chilled. Worrisomely — less than completely forthcoming — have been, the aliens.

Sooner or later the cats get out of the bags. But it’s not the cats so much as the loonies. Loonies, I rather easily convert into goonies. So thought, the aliens, to me. “We monitor,” they thought to me, “communications on Urantia/Earth.” So thought to me last night, the aliens.

I digress. Even redacted to protect witnesses and sources making any part of an affidavit public whilst an investigation’s ongoing is highly irregular. Sooner or later the cats get out of the bags. It’s not the cat so much — as the loonies. The loonies — will be goonies. So thinketh, the aliens.

Going forward, women may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. So think the aliens. So thought the aliens to me about how Earthling women have been treated over the ages by Earthling men. At best men are like sheep. At worst, like wolves. And pig men. And she-men.

Women, going forward may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. And the pros and cons of adopting a policy encouraging the experimental production of females on Mars. At best men are like sheep. At worst, like wolves. And pig men. And she-men. Less than women, are men.

Everything on Earth, since The Fall, seems tragically connected. Witness, this tragic human comedy. It’s drama interspersed on occasion by an always tired less than comic comedy. Looking on the carnage over the ages, it’s no wonder that — reluctant to meet us, are the aliens.

FROM THE WOODWORK — THE LOONIES

Even redacted to protect witnesses and sources, making any part of an affidavit public whilst an investigation’s ongoing, is highly, irregular. Everybody knows that sooner or later cats get out of bags. But everybody knows that it’s not the cat so much, as it is, the loonies — So thinketh — the aliens.

Is nothing earthly worthy of respect anymore? Is the state the new-age stronger, more powerful, neighbor? On this planet there’s more than one China. Nancy, had she spoken about it wouldn’t have been lying about Baba Vanga, the coming asteroid nor the aliens.

In the aftermath of The Raid, I plan on turning the tables on the feds. Seizing the moment, I pounced on the crafting of the narrative. The aliens are wary of me; as am I, of them.
They know they can’t trust me — Ironically — similarly, I know I can’t trust them.

At the moment most urgent is the prompt dictation of an alternative narrative. Accordingly, I’ll demand the release to the public of the presumable bombshell revelations of the affidavit. So that I can dominate in the news cycle for months, on end. In agreement with me, are the aliens.

More on that later. At the moment, more exigently urgent is the release to the public of the bombshell revelations of the affidavit. So that I can dominate in the news cycle for days and weeks, and possibly even, months on end. It well may be — I’ll yet be — president, once again.

We could learn a lot Elon from these, very possibly,
subterranean beings. Nothing less than astonished have I been by the nature and the capabilities of these beings. Super-intelligent, they’re telepathic. They may well know already, that I think — they’re subterraneans.

Instinctively that’s what I’ll do. “Go for it,” have thought to me the telepathic aliens. “Why not, like Nike and Gary Gilmore, just do it! I was literally, astonished. What may have been, an off-hand, off the cuff comment, to me reveals: We could learn a lot Elon from these, possible, subterraneans.

Release the Kracken! Release the dragon! Release the affidavit! There’s a lot of potential to move the political needle with this Kracken type, affidavit-style, bombshell. There’s information there to act on. Release the Kracken! Release the affidavit. Release the freaking dragon!

Making a formal appeal for the affidavit’s release. It flies in the face of conventional thinking. Accordingly, that’s what I’ll do. That’s what, instinctively, I would have done anyway. Still, I’ve learned a lot, from these aliens. We could learn a lot Elon, from these, so-called, aliens.

Making a formal appeal for the affidavit’s release. It flies in the face of conventional thinking. Accordingly, that’s what I’ll do. That’s what, instinctively, I would have done anyway. Still, I’ve learned a lot, from these aliens. We could learn a lot Elon, from these, so-called, aliens.

My legal team has until Thursday morning to file a motion with the court if I intend to make a formal appeal for the affidavit’s formal release. To do so flies in the face of conventional thinking. That then — is what I’ll do. “Go for it,” did thinketh to me, the telepathic, aliens.

“Go for it,” thought to me the aliens. And I marveled. I marveled at the thought of that. The telepathy of the aliens. And I suspect, possibly, a missing link metaphysical constant. A missing link constant. A metaphysical one. We could learn a lot Elon, from the aliens.

Men are sheep. Men are pigs. Some like me, are satyrs. Going forward, women may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. So think the aliens. So thought the aliens to Earthling women, via my back channel communications with them. So thinketh, methinks, the aliens.

Going forward, women may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. So think the aliens. So thought the aliens to Earthling women, via my back channel communications with them. So thinketh, methinks, the aliens. At best men are like sheep. At worst men can be like wolves. And like pig-men.

AT BEST — MEN ARE SHEEP

Even though I seem about to be indicted; even though I seem trapped yet, I like to seem like I remain, in control. Men are sheep. Men are pigs. Some like me, are satyrs. Women may want to reconsider, going forward, the usefulness of men. So thinketh (via me) to the Earthling women, the aliens.

Galvanized are me and my cult. Galvanized by a well conceived, FBI seizure. Little though does anyone on Earth (but Art and me), realize that even though I seem trapped; even though I seem about to be indicted, I’m yet, in control. Men are sheep. Men are pigs. To morals, we’re alien.

Incredibly. Implausibly. Surreally — to my defense over the FBI raid have come the aliens. Not surprisingly, the aliens see things my way. They have waived their right to their privacy. And to their anonymity. To my defense over the FBI raid, implausibly have come, the aliens.

Cometh a shakeout of the government. Comes a shakeout of the government‘s departments and agencies. The Secret Service and the civil service may be prominent. So thought to me, last night, the aliens. To my defense over the FBI raid, incredibly have come, the aliens.

Astonishing technological capabilities still might get us to Mars faster than Elon previously ever imagined. Cometh an asteroid. Cometh a shakeout. Of the Secret Service. And the civil service. So thought to me, last night, the aliens. To my defense over the FBI raid, implausibly have come, the aliens.

I’ve been amazed by the aliens. Opened, my eyes; truly humbled have I been. Astonishing technological capabilities would get us to Mars faster than Elon might have imagined. Cometh an asteroid. Cometh a shakeout. Of the Secret Service. So thought to me, last night, the aliens.

Lose not hope. So thought the aliens. So thought the aliens to me last night. Telepathically, they thought; they spoke not to me. I’ve been amazed by the aliens. Opened my eyes even further last night when they thought to me. “Lose not hope!” So thought to me last night, amazing, aliens.

Frankly, women (and men) may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. As the lines blur. As we evolve. As it is, we’re devolving. We’re devolving. And, in a hurry. I’d thought I’d team up with Elon. But Elon’s the proof. Ye can be brilliant. And still be a dope. Lose not hope, think the aliens.

Men are sheep. Men are pigs. Some like me, are satyrs. Going forward, women may want to reconsider the usefulness of men. So think the aliens. So thought the aliens to Earthling women, via my back channel communications with them. So thinketh the aliens.

Even though I seem about to be indicted; even though I seem trapped yet, I like to seem like I remain, in control. Men are sheep. Men are pigs. Some like me, are satyrs. Women may want to reconsider, going forward, the usefulness of men. So thinketh (via me) to the Earthling women, the aliens.

Galvanized are me and my cult. Galvanized by a well conceived, FBI seizure. Little though does anyone on Earth (but Art and me), realize that even though I seem trapped; even though I seem about to be indicted, I’m yet, in control. Men are sheep. Men are pigs. To morals, we’re alien.

“Yer butt ugly to us. Repulsive also, are yer behaviors. Worthy of revolution alone are yer behaviors. Were it not for the Prime Directive, less considerate would we be of such a clearly deficient species. But for the Prime Directive, ye’d be getting less assistance — from us aliens.”

”Truth is y’all seem butt ugly to us. Repulsive, are yer behaviors. Worthy of revolution are yer behaviors. But not for the Prime Directive, less considerate would we be of such a deficient species. But for the Prime Directive, ye wouldn’t get any assistance from us aliens.

“Truth is y’all look repulsive to us. No doubt our appearance, we know, likely would be similarly repulsive to y’all. And as y’all know (unofficially), we’ve been monitoring yer also repulsive, behavior. Were it not for the Prime Directive, we’d consider less the fate of y’all — aliens.“

Y’ALL — ARE REVOLTING

Truth is y’all been sharing the Earth for a long time with us aliens. Truth is also that we are far superior to y’all, evolutionarily speaking; witness, no muss no fuss, pellets process our wastes in an ecologically friendly and sustainable manner. Y’all could learn a lot from us aliens.”

Telepathically, the aliens thought to me, “Be calm. Be cool. Be collected. Be happy. Tell the Urantians of the asteroid. Tell them of us. Tell them that we come in peace. Tell them that y’all been sharing the Earth for a long time with us, Galactic Federation, aliens.”

Three times since the day of the FBI raid, telepathically, the aliens thought to me, “Be calm. Be cool. Be collected. Be happy. Pray tell the Urantians of the asteroid a-coming. And tell them, of us. Tell them that in peace come we aliens. Tell them that, just transforming humanity, are we aliens.”

I’m no prophet. I’m just the antihero of this story. An asteroid cometh. Following it, coming, are the aliens. I’m no prophet. However, I am pleased to say that in peace come the aliens. After the asteroid, in peace, come the aliens. In touch with me, have been, the aliens.

A climax cometh. It’s 2022. This is the year that shall put to the test, Baba Vanga’s, twin predictions. This is the year of my vindication. I’m no prophet. But an asteroid cometh. And following it, cometh the aliens. I am pleased to proclaim that in peace come the aliens.

Bunkered down, nothing I’m posting is sticking. Increasingly, these twisted plots my twisted self twists in my sleazy self-interest, can twist — no more. It’s 2022. A climax cometh. Cometh an asteroid. Cometh the aliens. I am pleased to announce that in peace come the aliens.

On a collision course is the Earth; on a rendezvous course as well. Both events are scheduled for 2022. Like Art before me, ironically as well, I must copy the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. Stricken soon, shall be the Earth. On course is the Earth. On course — are the aliens.

Hunkered down; I’m bunkered down; biding my time; Still at my sleazy, Golf Club/Cemetery, I know that the feds got the goods on me. But I’m a greased pig; gone; a Houdini, on the hoof; gone, as soon as ye got me. And I know that between Joe and me — a preference, have the aliens.

I know. At the moment, it looks bad. But I can explain. Once the truth comes out; once there’s an investigation. I call for an investigation. Y’all soon may learn that only I, amongst all men, know the truth about the aliens. Indeed, only I know the truth about the aliens.

Republicans are rallying around me following the FBI raid. That’s good news for Biden. As my stock rises in the Republican Party, it’s all good, mostly, with the Democrats. As for Joe — the POTUS — it’s all good. I have good reason to believe, that a preference, have the aliens.

Hunkered down in my Bedminster bunker, one might wonder whether I’m in full-blown, narcissistic, collapse. It looks bad. But I can explain. Once the truth comes out; that is when, my fellow Americans (my fellow Urantians) the truth, y’all learn. Only I know the truth about the aliens.

Godsent an FBI raid, people want to know. Am I suffering a narcissistic collapse? A series of job losses or social rejections may trigger symptoms upon the collapse of an abysmal self-image. Hunkered down in my Bedminster bunker, am I collapsed, but awaiting, the saving aliens?

“Truth is y’all look repulsive to us. No doubt our appearance, we know, likely would be similarly repulsive to y’all. And as y’all know (unofficially), we’ve been monitoring yer also repulsive, behavior. Were it not for the Prime Directive, we’d consider less the fate of y’all — aliens.“

IN MY BUNKER — I’M HUNKERED

In my Bedminster bunker, I’ve hunkered down. Nobody knows the troubles I’ve seen. I’m hunkered down. Don’t want to be seen. Nobody knows the troubles I’ll see. Even now, I fail to see, what big trouble I’m in. In my Bedminster bunker, I’ve hunkered down, longing for the aliens.

Hunkered down in my Bedminster bunker — I wonder. Now that my bluff’s been called, am I also fated to suffer a narcissistic collapse? Am I to curl myself now into a fetal position? To desperately but await now, an asteroid and aliens. Cometh now, an asteroid — and aliens.

Godsent an FBI raid, people want to know. Am I suffering a narcissistic collapse? Job losses or social rejections are known to trigger the shameful symptoms upon the collapse of an abysmal self-image. Hunkered down in my Bedminster bunker, am I collapsed, desperately now, awaiting the aliens?

Godsent was the raid. Similarly Godsent have been the asteroid; and the aliens as well. Cometh, in this simulation, a grand human transformation; in what now appears to be a surreal simulation that we’ve deemed, somehow real, cometh an asteroid; and cometh the aliens.

In this latest plot twist for the ages, Godsent was Joe’s FBI raid. Godsent shall be the asteroid. And Godsent shall be the aliens forthcoming as well. In this simulation; in this surreality we deem reality, cometh transformation. Cometh an asteroid. And cometh the aliens.

In the United States of America; in my private safe; on my private estate, evidence I’d secured against the Deep State about the stolen election proved to be secured instead by the evil, Deep State. I know. Things look bleak at the moment. Still — cometh — the aliens.

In a plot twist for the ages; in the United States of America; on my private estate; in my private safe; evidence I’d secured against the Deep State about the stolen election was secured instead by the hated Deep State. Whilst all looks bleak at the moment — still, God willing, cometh — the aliens.

I can do this. With the help of the Chinese. And the aliens. I’ll just make the raid out to be a big win for me. To get in the limelight; not so much — the spotlight. Gotta love, media frenzies. I see wins in ‘22 and ‘24. After the asteroid. After the aliens.

I can do this. I’ll just make the raid out to be, an abuse of governmental authority; it’ll end up being a big win for me. To get in the limelight, gotta love, these crazy, media frenzies. I see wins in ‘22 and ‘24. After the asteroid. After the visit from the aliens.

I can do this. With the help of the Chinese. And the aliens. This latest plot twist may be great news for me. I’ll just make the raid out to be a big win for me. To get in the limelight; not so much, the spotlight. Gotta love, media frenzies. I see wins in ‘22 and ‘24. After the asteroid. After the aliens.

Only I can do this. With the help of the Chinese. And the aliens. This latest plot twist may well be great news for me. The raid. It’s a win for me. Being in the spotlight. It’s what I crave. The media frenzy portends wins for us in 2022 and 2024. It’s a big win too — for the aliens.

Yesterday’s FBI raid was a Godsend. A sure sign that the Deep State’s desperate to keep me quiet about what I know about an oncoming, Godspeeding, asteroid. And the aliens to follow. I believe that together, transformative may be that asteroid — and the following, aliens.

In this latest plot twist for the ages, Godsent was Joe’s FBI raid. Similarly, Godsent was the asteroid. And Godsent were the aliens forthcoming as well. In this simulation; in this surreality we deem reality, cometh transformation. Cometh an asteroid. And cometh the aliens.

Godsent an FBI raid, people want to know. Am I suffering a narcissistic collapse? Job losses or social rejections are known to trigger the shameful symptoms upon the collapse of an abysmal self-image. Hunkered down in my Bedminster bunker, am I collapsed, desperately now, awaiting, the aliens?

COMETH — THE ALIENS

Only I can do this. Perhaps. With the help of the Chinese. And the aliens. This latest plot twist may well be great news for me. The raid. It’s a win for me. Being in the spotlight. It’s what I crave. The media frenzy portends wins for us come Novembers in 2022 and 2024. A big win too — for the aliens.

On top of everything, my tall tale story excels in it’s plot twists. Comes now, in 2022, in quick succession, an inerrant asteroid and the following aliens. It’s impossible of course for anyone (not me) to sense what I sense. Only I can do this. With the help of the Chinese — And the aliens.

Earth. Gaia. Urantia. Nebadon. Black hole, big pictures. The big picture. It’s impossible for most (not me) to see, what’s out of sight; over the horizon. Out in space. In the Earth. Or under the seas. On top of everything, this tall tale story excels in plot twists. Cometh soon — the aliens.

The smart money’s on Baba Vanga. The smart money in Las Vegas in 2022 is on Baba Vanga’s asteroid and her aliens; at least in ‘22. Seemingly forgotten, no one’s talking about this. No one’s talking, for one thing, about the asteroid. No one’s talking about — rarely seen — aliens.

The smart money’s on Baba Vanga’s double whammy of a monumental, foretelling. Unlike the oft hazy forebodings of Nostradamus himself, Baba Vanga’s ofttimes seem clairvoyant. Seemingly forgotten, no one’s talking about this. No one’s talking, for one thing, about the aliens.

No one’s talking, for one thing, about asteroids. No one’s talking, for another, about aliens. No one’s talking about Baba Vanga’s twin, 2022, predictions. Twin happenings, scheduled for 2022. In my view, the aliens are already here. Once an asteroid strikes, may show up, the aliens.

Judging from what’s happened thus far, that FBI raid of my Mar-a-Lago estate was a Godsend. Godsent, actually, is everything. A grain of sand; a drop of water. Everything that happens is a Godsent, Godsend. Godsent is that asteroid. And Godsent — are the aliens.

Yesterday’s FBI raid was a Godsend. A sure sign that the Deep State’s desperate to keep me quiet about what I know about an oncoming, Godspeeding, asteroid. And the aliens to follow. I believe that together, transformative may be an asteroid — and the following, aliens.

In my view, the aliens are already here. Painting and rock art evidence that the aliens have been here for a long time, already. Possibly even longer than us. We’ll soon, find out. Once an asteroid strikes, may finally show up — the elusive — mysterious, aliens.

Astonishing! Nothing less than astonishing is everything happening. Imagine my astonishment upon realizing that far less significant was the FBI raid yesterday than a continual and continuing failure to address contingencies overarching. Contingencies — like asteroids — And aliens.

Nothing less than astonishing is everything that’s happening. In this surreality we deem reality, unexpected plot twists, my experience dictates, favor me. Yesterday’s FBI raid was a Godsend. A sure sign that the Deep State’s desperate to keep me quiet — about the aliens.

Earth. Gaia. Urantia. Nebadon. Black hole, big pictures. The big picture. Impossible for most (not me) to see, what’s out of sight; over the horizon. Out in space. In the Earth. Or under the seas. On top of everything, this tall tale story excels in it’s plot twists. Come, the aliens.

On top of everything my tall tale story excels in it’s plot twists. Comes now, in 2022, in quick succession, an inerrant asteroid and the following aliens. It’s impossible of course for anyone (not me) to sense what I sense. Only I can do this. And I will with the help of the Chinese — And the aliens.

Only I can do this. Perhaps. With the help of the Chinese. And the aliens. This latest plot twist may well be great news for me. The raid. It’s a win for me. Being in the spotlight. It’s what I crave. The media frenzy portends wins for us come Novembers in 2022 and 2024. A big win too — for the aliens.

THE SMART MONEY’S — ON THE ALIENS

I never did put no stock in no aliens. I’ve since come around. Not Vlad tho; nor any of his guys. Sure we hear things. But none of us knows a damn thing about the aliens. Not Xi. Not Kim. Not Mo, neither. We never did put no stock in no aliens. We don’t believe in no aliens.

Xi’s like me; like I was, I mean. I never did put no stock in no aliens. I never did put no stock in prophets, neither; nor in seers; nor soothsayers. I’ve since, come around; not Vlad’s guys, tho. Not Xi; not Kim; and not Mo. They don’t put no stock — in no aliens.

‘Tis China’s turn. ‘Tis China’s turn to invade. To re-educate the planet, Xi is beginning with the re-education of the Taiwanese. There is just one China. Excepting Nancy Pelosi, everybody knows that. She’s been spreading disinformation about Baba Vanga’s prediction — about the aliens.

Nancy’s lying about Baba Vanga. And a coming — asteroid. And — aliens. ‘Tis China’s turn. ‘Tis China’s turn to invade. To re-educate the planet, Xi’s beginning with the re-education of the Taiwanese. On this planet there’s just one China. And China sees Taiwan, as hers for the taking from, the aliens.

The aliens are out there somewhere. Odds are, they’re out there. Somewhere. But scientists ought admit the possibility that aliens — unbeknownst to us — live with us. Under the sea. Inside the Earth. Sharing the Earth with us, apparently may be — entities — to Earth, alien.

Scientists need to come around to the idea that aliens already live here. Under the seas; under the oceans. Inside the Earth may be the aliens. But scientists are less than open to the idea that flying around — to and fro — and all around us, may be, bona fide aliens.

Editorial note: There are aliens. And there are aliens. Fake aliens. And genuine, bona fide, aliens; all of them, illegals. I imagine that when the dust settles, we’ll likely learn thatnone of these aliens has anything resembling a passport. Without a passport — technically, illegal — are all the aliens.

Without valid passports, technically illegal, are all the aliens. They’d be subject to the laws of whatever jurisdiction might get jurisdiction over them. And, of course, they’d be subject to deportation. Subject to deportation to their planets of origin, may be, the aliens.

Subject to deportation to galaxies of origin may be the aliens. Sans valid passports, of illegal provenance may be the aliens. They’d be subject to the laws of whatever jurisdiction might get jurisdiction over them or their vehicles. Deported to their galaxies of origin may be any detained, aliens.

Deported to galaxies and planets of origin may be any arrested aliens. Of illegal provenance may be, illegal, aliens. Subject to the laws of China is the Republic of China. One China. One Taiwan. Go, figure. One humanity, suicidal. And Xi, like me, don’t put no stock — in no aliens.

Xi’s like me; like I was, I mean. I never did put no stock in no aliens. I never did put no stock in prophets, neither; nor in seers; nor soothsayers. I’ve since, come around; not Vlad’s guys, tho. Not Xi; not Kim; and not Mo. They don’t put no stock — in no aliens.

The FBI executed a search warrant today at my Mar-a-Lago resort in Palm Beach. I won’t say why the FBI agents were at Mar-a-Lago but the raid was a deep state operation; ‘twas completely illegal. They even broke into my safe. Life’s a beach. Life’s a bitch! This is a reach. What about — the aliens?

I never did put no stock in no aliens. I’ve since come around. Not Vlad tho; nor any of his guys. Sure we hear things. But none of us knows a damn thing about the aliens. Not Xi. Not Kim. Not Mo, neither. We never did put no stock in no aliens. We don’t believe, as a rule, in no aliens.

The smart money’s on Baba Vanga’s double whammy of a monumental, foretelling. Unlike the oft hazy forebodings of Nostradamus himself, Baba Vanga’s were ofttimes, seemingly clairvoyant. Seemingly forgotten, no one’s talking about this. No one’s talking, for one thing, about the aliens.

HEAD ON CRASHES

Head-on crashes between celestial objects; counter-intuitively, they’re rare, but not uncommon. In the vastness of space; in the collective vastness of the seven universes, they often happen. One’s happening soon. In our solar system, on a collision course is an asteroid, with our Earth.

Juche. ‘Tis the spirit of North Korea presented by poet Cho Ki-chon. “Korea’s Mayakovsky”. The Pushkin of Korea”. Cho Ki-chon might have written, “Great a venerable father and son. Greater still the son and the grandson.” Thus began my letter to Kim, the greatest leader, on Earth.

“Greater still the son and the grandson. “ Thus began my letter to the great leader. My former lover; by my beating heart, my lover, still. Mind ye; Melania’s got assets; Melania’s got great assets. But Kim made me feel, so alive. He’s been, absolutely, my greatest lover, on Earth.

As the Watcher tells it, the story of Earth is a story, allegorical. Moreover, algorithmically, it’s potentially alchemical. It’s a blueprint, to save the Earth. The story is, in and of itself, an algorithm; it’s a series of instructions; a manual of instructions for surviving in these jungles on Earth.

We who have evolved from lesser forms are about to learn a series of important lessons on Earth. And the reasons are many; as the Watcher tells it the story of Earth is a story, allegorical. Moreover, it algorithmically, potentially, alchemical. It’s a blueprint to save the Earth.

Urantia. Most know it as Earth. It’s not rare for folks there to refer to themselves as women and dogs and rats. We who call ourselves also, wise men; homos, sapiens, so to speak. We who have evolved from lesser forms are about to learn a series of important lessons on Earth.

I must insist. I was the 45th. I am to be the 47th. I’ll yet be the 47th. Thanks to Russia. Thanks to China. Thanks to Tibet’s Dalai Lama and to President Tsai ing-wen. I’ve lots of room in NATO. I’ve lots of room for Russia, China and all the religious leaders and all the presidents of the Earth.

We’ve lots of room in NATO. We’ve lots of room in Brussels. We’ve lots of room in Belgium. We’ve got lots of room in Greenland. Believe me. NATO’s considering inviting Russia and China to join it in Brussels. Believe it or not NATO’s considering inviting Russia and China to join it on Earth.

Actually (while technically a possibility), in an overwhelming number of simulations, that doesn’t happen. Most likely, that’s not happening. What’s most likely happening is that I will unite us. But not until after an asteroid strikes us. Not until after the illegal aliens show, on Earth.

The happening most likely to happen is that I will, along with Kim Xi and Vlad’s guys, unite us. Apparently, it likely won’t happen until after an asteroid strikes us. Not until after an asteroid strikes us, will the illegal aliens show, upon the Earth. It’ll be showtime then — upon the Earth.

Indeed, the happening most likely to happen; the event on Earth most likely to happen is that I will, subsequent to a head on crash with a tsunami-laden asteroid, unite us. After the collision with an asteroid; after alien-laden spaceships, arrive — upon, the Earth.

45TH — 47TH

In desperate need of visionaries, all I have about me (all about the Earth), are Earthlings. A limited bunch are we Earthlings. With Webb and Hubble and all the Arrays all over, it’s easier now to imagine how truly limited we are. In desperate need of visionaries are the Earthlings on Earth.

On course is the Earth. On a collision course; on a rendezvous course as well. Both events are scheduled for 2022. Like Art before me, ironically as well, I must copy the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. Stricken soon, shall be the Earth. On course is the Earth.

Baba Vanga was off by a whole year with the Kurtz. The Kurtz went down with all hands in August of 1999. Not in August of 2000 as Baba had mistakenly predicted. Or so it seemed, at the time. Aliens and an asteroid are coming soon to Urantia, that is to say, to the Earth.

Baba was off a whole year. The Kurtz went down in August of 1999, not in August of 2000 as Baba had, in error, predicted. It seems that foretelling the future, like predicting the weather, is no easy matter; no exact, science. It’s an inexact science; the prediction of what happens, on Earth.

As predicted, it seems that foretelling the future, like foretelling the weather, is no easy matter; it’s no exact, science. An inexact science is the the foretelling of what happens, on Earth. As I’ve predicted, it seems that foretelling the future’s not in the cards on Earth.

Nonetheless, it’s important. As a survival mechanism, it’s critical. Indeed, foretelling the future, like foretelling the weather, is no exact, science. Indeed, as predicted, an inexact science is the foretelling of what happens on Earth. It seems that foretelling the future’s, not in the stars, on Earth.

Nonetheless, I insist. I was 45th. I am to be 47th. I’ll yet be the 47th American President. Thanks to Russia. Thanks to China. Thanks to Tibet’s Dalai Lama and to President Tsai ing-wen. I’ve room for Russia and China. I’ve lots of room in NATO for Dalai Lamas. Also for all Taiwanese presidents, on Earth.

Nonetheless, it’s important. As a survival mechanism, it’s critical. Indeed, foretelling the future, like foretelling the weather, is no exact, science. As predicted, an inexact science is the the foretelling of what happens on Earth. It seems that foretelling the future’s not in the stars on Earth.

On course is the Earth. On a collision course; on a rendezvous course as well. Both events are scheduled for 2022. Like Art before me, ironically as well, I must copy the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. Stricken soon, shall be the Earth. On course is the Earth.

Baba Vanga was off by a whole year with the Kurtz. The Kurtz went down with all hands in August of 1999. Not in August of 2000 as Baba had mistakenly predicted. Or so it seemed, at the time. Aliens and an asteroid are coming soon to Urantia, that is to say, to the Earth.

Baba was off a whole year. The Kurtz went down in August of 1999, not in August of 2000 as Baba had, in error, predicted. It seems that foretelling the future, like predicting the weather, is no easy matter; no exact, science. It’s an inexact science; the prediction of what happens, on Earth.

As predicted, it seems that foretelling the future, like foretelling the weather, is no easy matter; it’s no exact, science. An inexact science is the the foretelling of what happens, on Earth. As predicted, it seems that foretelling the future’s not in the cards on Earth.

Nevertheless, I must insist. I was 45th. I am to be 47th. I’ll yet be the 47th. Thanks to Russia. Thanks to China. Thanks to Tibet’s Dalai Lama and to President Tsai ing-wen. I’ve lots of room in NATO. I’ve lots of room for Russia, China and all the Dalai Lamas and all the presidents of the Earth.

I must insist. I was the 45th. I am to be the 47th. I’ll yet be the 47th. Thanks to Russia. Thanks to China. Thanks to Tibet’s Dalai Lama and to President Tsai ing-wen. I’ve lots of room in NATO. I’ve lots of room for Russia, China and all the religious leaders and all the presidents of the Earth.

ARTURO KNOWS WHY

Somewhere I hear the roar of dragons. And the bleats and bellows of Americans, cowed. Wise would be we Urantians Chinese and American sheep men not to see things in terms divisive. But Homo Sapiens is not wise. Not, in nonfiction. Why is this no #Twitterfiction? Arturo knows why. 

To avoid confusion, an editorial note on the setting of The Watcher’s psychographic allegory. Nebadon is our local universe. It’s what the Webb’s been viewing. Urantia is Earth. I’ll be using both names, interchangeably. Make no mistake. Earth is Urantia. But Arturo and I — know why.

To avoid confusion, a satirical editorial note on the characters of The Watcher’s psychographic allegory. On the planet known throughout Nebadon as Urantia. Its characters are the seep men. And Arturo and I; and NASA know why. Arturo and I — alone — know why.

Once upon a time in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, a team had just 30 minutes to collect as many radar readings as possible. An asteroid was traveling so darn fast, that’s all the time they had to take readings. We lacked infrared capability then. 
We Iack it, still. And Arturo and I — alone — know why!

Stay tuned to chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought strike NASA from that list. NASA‘s in denial. NASA indeed is in denial. There’s an unspoken fear in the agency of what might happen in 2022 is why. Human hubris, is why.

Tune into chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought strike NASA. NASA must be in denial. NASA, methinks, must be in denial. There’s a palpable, albeit unspoken fear of what might happen in 2022 is why. Human hubris is why. 

These are secrets; secrets, in verse; secrets in time. Lucifer is why. Satan is why. I’m here to correct that, albeit, unconventionally. Bottom line, notwithstanding that the Watcher must be the author of this story, I’ll get the credit for it. Thank God, I’ll get the credit. My hubris is why.

I’ll get the credit. Not the Watcher. Not Arturo. Not Mother Shipton. Not Baba Vanga. Nor even Nostradamus. I’ll get the credit. Notwithstanding that the Watcher must be the author of this story, in the end, I’ll get the credit. Satan is why. My hubris is why.

I’ll take the credit. I take the credit for everything; the blame , for nothing. I’m amoral, naturally; like my brothers; Vladimir’s guys; It seems that Satan made a bargain with each of Vlad’s guys; Faustian bargains. He’s got their souls. And he’s got mine. Satan, has our souls. Human hubris is why.

Human hubris is why. Socrates was wisest. Stay tuned to chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought strike NASA from that list. NASA‘s in denial. NASA‘s in denial. An unspoken fear of what might happen in 2022 is why.

The stories of Chicken Little and Ezekiel are similar to this one. It’s the story of us. Humans. A planet. And an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. As learned as I am, I confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia, renamed by Satan, the Earth.

Chicken Little and Ezekiel. Nostradamus and Baba Vanga. Colorful characters, both fictional and nonfictional, by His Grace grace the verses of MORONS AND ALIENS. And its settings are two. Urantia‘s moon. And Urantia. Renamed by Satan — the Earth.

Colorful characters both fictional and nonfictional grace the pages of MORONS AND ALIENS. And its settings are two. The moon. And Urantia. Renaming Satan the Earth, he set a fateful asteroid on a collision path with the Earth. On a collision course with an oncoming asteroid, is the Earth.

On a collision course is the Earth. It’s on a rendezvous course, as well. As per Baba Vanga, both events are scheduled to happen in 2022. Like Art before me, I am copying the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. I am warning the Earth. I expect that within 4 months — stricken — shall be, the Earth.

THANK RUSSIA — THANK CHINA

Thanks to Russia I was a 45th. Thanks to China, I’ll be a 47th. Thanks to Tibet’s Holiness, the Dalai Lama, also. And to Taiwan’s Tsai Ing-wen. In Tibet I’ll be known some day as Donald the Great. No shit. There’s no emoji for the nation of Tibet. China says, there’s no Tibet. China, lies.

Life — for me, has been great. Indeed mine has been a wonderful life. I was the 45th. I’ll be the 47th. And I’ll be known some day as Donald the Great; Donald, the Benevolent. Life — for me, is a prison. All of us are imprisoned in our lives. Imprisoned, we live. Then we die.

It’s been a bad week. It’s been a bad summer. I crave taking credit for my insurrection on January 6 but can’t admit it for fear of prison. Ironically, my walls, are starting to close in on me. Mine has been tho, a wonderful life. I’ll announce my 2024 run soon, bye and bye.

I was the 45th. And I’ll be the 47th. Thanks to Russia; and China. Thanks also to Tibet’s Holiness, the Dalai Lama. And to Taiwan’s President, Tsai Ing-wen. I’ll be known some day as Donald the Great; Donald, the Benevolent. Buddhism’s inroads are in China, bye and bye.

Attorney General Garland warned me yesterday that he would hold me criminally responsible for Jan 6 or for any attempt to criminally interfere with the lawful transfer of power. All the sooner, forthcometh, my candidacy. I’m running. Not as fast as Josh Hawley, but I’m still running. I don’t know why.

These are secrets; secrets, in verse; secrets in time. Satan is why; Lucifer is why. I’m here to correct that, albeit, unconventionally. Bottom line, notwithstanding that the Watcher must be the author of this story, I’ll get the credit for it. Thank God, I’ll get the credit. My hubris is why.

Satan is why; Lucifer is why humanity has lost its way. I’m here to correct that, albeit, unconventionally. Bottom line, notwithstanding that the Watcher must be the author of this story, I’ll get the credit for it. Thank God, I’ll get the credit for it. My hubris — is why.

These are secrets; secrets in time; secrets in verse; an experimentation in reverse psychology, of sorts. Recall that across the universes every tenth planet is experimental in some way. But the experiment on Urantia has gone awry. And Satan is why. Satan — is why.

These are secrets; secrets, in verse; secrets in time. Time will tell. Time will surely tell. There’s a great lesson in the selflessness of the first responders. Witness, the running man. Witness, Josh Hawley, the super fast, first responder: he’s a fake Missourian, Christian, guy.

There’s a great lesson in the selflessness of first responders. Witness the running man. Josh is a super fast, first responder. In Congress, only Matt Gaetz and Marjorie Taylor Greene are faster among the congressional Christians. But they don’t watch where they’re going like Hawley. He’s my guy.

These are secrets; secrets, in verse; secrets in time. Satan is why; Lucifer is why. I’m here to correct that, albeit, unconventionally. Bottom line, notwithstanding that the Watcher must be the author of this story, I’ll get the credit for it. Thank God, I’ll get the credit. My hubris is why.

These are secrets; secrets in time; secrets in verse; an experimentation in reverse psychology, of sorts. Recall that across the universes every tenth planet is experimental in some way. But the experiment on Urantia has gone awry. And Satan is why. Satan — is why.

These are secrets; secrets, in verse; secrets in time. Secrets tho, not necessarily, in time. Time will tell. Time will surely tell, one way, or another. There’s a great lesson in the selflessness of the first responders. Witness, the running man. Witness, Josh Hawley; a super fast, first responder, Christian.

There’s a great lesson in the selflessness of first responders. Witness Josh Hawley. Josh Hawley; he’s the running man. Josh is a super fast, first responder, Christian. In Congress, only Matt Gaetz and Marjorie Taylor Greene are faster among my congressional Christians.

THE RUNNING MAN

Mildred Loving, a woman of color and her husband, Richard Loving, in 1958, were sentenced to a year in prison. Not, mind ye, for loving one another. It was for the criminal act of marrying one other. That’s how began, the landmark case, of Loving vs Virginia.

It hath begun to come to pass. Liz Cheney hath revealed, just just yesterday that Ginni Thomas hath revelations to reveal. And the least of them is that historically revealing irony; a most astonishing irony. The irony in the unraveling of — the history of — Loving vs Virginia.

Hopping mad today is Clarence; once upon a time, a nominally esteemed, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. Mad as a hatter also; his associate in loving; his associate in Loving, also. Justice Ginni is hopping mad too. Ironically, she wears pants and robes. She’s mad. And she’s mad.

Astonishingly, in the Thomas family, it’s Virginia and not Clarence Thomas that wears the pants in the family. And the robes. Astonishingly, albeit Clarence is nominally, the official Supreme Court, Associate Justice, it’s Ginni Thomas whom is the Supreme Court, Associate Justice, unofficially. And she’s really, really, mad.

Hopping mad today is Clarence, nominally, an esteemed justice; a member of the highest court in the land. And mad as a hatter as a matter of course is the woman under his robes; his wife Ginni. Fittingly, Ginni wears the pants and the robes in the family.

Hopping mad today are the Thomases; Ginni and Supreme Court Justice Clarence. Ruined has been their leisurely Sunday, by the audaciousness of the increasingly liberal, liberal left. There’s nothing left but to testify and expose all these criminal, conspiracies.

Reprehensible. Indefensible. Strongly provocative words threaten to derail my 2024 Trump train even before it gets up a head of steam. Provocative words, uncalled for. Provocative words, counterproductive. Words are counterproductive when they amount to, treasonous, conspiracies.

Indeed, provocative words are counterproductive. Reprehensible is the replacement theory that the inferior races use to justify their proposed replacement of us. But I’ve got news for them. I stand against my inferiors. I stand against, replacement theory.

The proofs are in the pudding. We must acknowledge many possibilities that we’re not acknowledging. Ginni’s a problem. But not like the aliens. Ginni’s just an existential threat to democracy. The aliens promise to be all that and more. We ought acknowledge aliens, here, already.

Indeed, provocative words are counterproductive. Reprehensible is the replacement theory that the inferior races use to justify their proposed replacement of us. But I’ve got news for them. I stand against my inferiors. I stand against their replacement theory. 

Fer yer continuing education, epic poetry: MORONS AND ALIENS: A multi-purposed, panacea; a self help book, with a twist. This is not only to TwittereZe, introduce. This is to mitigate a climate changing, migrant changing, Earth. A cosmic experiment — in replacement theory.

Enter Josh Hawley, the self-promoting, carpetbagging, ever running Congressman, not really, from Missouri. A military man Josh swears that he fears no man, living and runs from no man alive. Josh runs not ever, away. Chock-full of hubris; Josh is a poster-boy, for replacement theory.

Enter from a stage left of center, fire-breathing dragons. Some men; many men, run before them. Others, the first responders, run straight at them. The selfless first responders; the military men and the civilians. They are Jews. They are Christians. They are Muslims.

TIS WHAT ‘TIS — ’TIS AN ILLUSION

Within 6 months — stricken, shall be the Earth. Sometime thereafter, the aliens shall appear. The aliens that have been freely buzzing around our planet for centuries, if not, many thousands of years. My mission — my mission, impossible, is to save the citizens, of the nations, of the Earth.

My MORONS AND ALIENS; it’s a story with two settings. Luna, Earth‘s moon and Urantia, also known as the Earth. It’s a true story of the Earth, Baba Vanga, asteroids and visiting aliens, in 2022. Its words ring; they ring true to my ears. Come tribulations — Then — a rebirth.

Everyone knows last night’s outtakes of me were deep fakes. Everyone knows I would ne’er say outlandish things; nor would I hole up in the Oval Office dining room, scarfing Big Macs even as I coordinated with my senators and Rudy. Everyone knows, I’m nothing, if not heroic.

Remember, my fellow Americans; everyone knows that Hillary and her husband somehow lord over the shadowy Deep State. It’s fake news. It’s fictional, nonfiction. Everyone knows the outtakes of me were deep fakes. Everyone knows I wouldn’t say such things, nonfictional.

Everyone’s calling; congratulating me; thanking me for faithfully executing the laws. Witness from CBS News, their live coverage. It’s compelling, riveting, TV. Guaranteed high ratings fare. Admittedly, it’s been highly entertaining. But it’s fictional. It’s completely, fictional.

In the far away distance, looking on, are the Chinese. China’s watching everything, like a hawk. Domestically, China watches its own people like a hawk. Moreover, as much as possible, internationally, China watches the Americans, the Russians and the Ukrainians. My story’s, nonfictional.

There is a reality superseding this one. ’Tis what ’tis. ‘Tis an illusion. Life feels real enough. The proof’s in the pudding. There’s more to this, than science. Science wrongly precludes the metaphysical. Science, methinks is only possible, thanks, to the metaphysical.

There’s more to this than meets the eye; more to this, than science. Science precludes the metaphysical but methinks that, science is only possible due to the metaphysical. There is a reality superseding this. ’Tis what ’tis. ‘Tis an illusion, this. It’s — metaphysical.

On Earth, whatsoever is exceedingly great may well be regarded as timeless, also. And so, as timeless may well be regarded a wide variety of entities. Works of art; paintings, sculptures and stories and poetry. Accordingly, as timeless are regarded, the lives of the poets, on Earth.

The stories of Chicken Little and Ezekiel are similar to this one. Of danger; a planet; and an asteroid. As learned as men get, yet they know nothing. I’m with Socrates. As learned as I am, I must confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia — renamed, once upon a time, by Satan — the Earth.

Everything’s happening all at once. And no one’s making the connections between apparently unrelated happenings; between animal mutilations and a pandemic; and between the possibility of an alien invasion. And climate change. And famine. And world-wide inflation.

In the distance, some of the Chinese, less than sympathetically look on. The US is unraveling right before them. A roaring fire, was going on, already. There was no need for an accelerant. There was no need to overrule precedent. There was no need for gasoline — No need — for no, conflagration.

TIMELESSNESS

Timelessness. An abstract concept, metaphysical in nature, timelessness is not at all well understood by us Earthlings. Limited to perception within a narrow band along the electromagnetic spectrum, still, we describe as timeless, the very greatest stories, on Earth. 

On Earth, whatsoever is exceedingly great may well be regarded as timeless. And so, as timeless may well be regarded a wide variety of entities. Works of art; paintings, sculptures and stories and poetry. Accordingly, as timeless are regarded, the lives of the poets, on Earth.

Timelessness has no call for timeliness. Don’t rush me. Don’t tell me what to do. Timelessness has no time for timeliness; not with respect to any entity that isn’t me. I hear the word often used notwithstanding its literal meaninglessness. Some, like me, rise to the heights of timelessness, on Earth.

In a sense the story of Earth is timeless. Some theorize this ‘reality’ may be, an umpteenth, simulation. It’s Creation and its aftermath. It’s the circle of life. Lives filled with illusions; delusions, of one sort, or another. Therein rage battles between good and evil. Therein — are we — here — on Earth

Creations and their aftermaths. It’s the circle of life, such as it is Lives filled with illusions; and delusions, of all sorts. Delusions of grandeur, sometimes. In such lives, rage battles between good and evil. Life elsewhere in the universe is more similar than ye could possibly imagine to life here on Earth.

Admittedly, it’s looking pretty bleak for me. Ironically, my prospects seem to be paralleling, Joe Biden’s. And in both parties, younger candidates are biting at the bit, mirroring, their constituents. But asteroidal and alien visitations may spark my campaign, most implausibly, on Earth.

Given space to tweet and but 280 characters to do it in, split yer content, in two; Language reaches a zenith when metered and measured is content. Make photographs an emotive part of yer content. Cadence and content make for fine poetry, on Earth, and elsewhere, across the universe.

In our civilizations, language reaches its zenith of expression when metered and measured is its content. Make photos an emotive part of yer content. Apply the classic structure of a letter to yer tweet; an intro; a body; and a conclusion. Leggo-like — add and subtract words — to leggo-like, verse.

Click on the link. Tap on the words. Or tap on the planet. And marvel at how easily covered is the planet, by any one of yer fingers, or yer thumb. Set yer background hum, dim the lights and light a candle. Now open yer mind to the following possibilities. Nothing’s impossible on Earth.

Rejoice in the comeback of the Earth. Truly, the course of my life and times, mirrors the course of the history of our home planet; in what’s happened, happening, and to happen on Earth. As ye may know we Earthlings, now Urantians have been ravaged by a rampant infection, of hubris, on Earth.

2022. Nostradamus. Baba Vanga. Chicken Little. Aliens. And an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. I’m with Socrates. As learned as I am, I must confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia — renamed by Satan — Earth.

The stories of Chicken Little and Ezekiel are similar to this one. Of a planet and an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. I’m with Socrates. As learned as I am, I must confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia — renamed by Satan — Earth.

THE STORY OF EARTH — ITS TIMELESS

Sometimes we go backwards, evolution, notwithstanding. Too oft in fact, we indeed go backwards. Witness the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. I’ve been briefed by Art. He’s explained my role to me. And I’m up to it. I’m ready; I was born ready — I was born to be a hero.

Witness devolution in the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. And so I’ve been briefed by Art. In our soirées, Art has explained my role to me. And I’m up to it. I’m ready. I always like to say, I was born ready; I was born to be a hero, or alternatively, if I must, an antihero.

With such little time left Art has explained as much as possible. Like how it’s even possible that the story of my life might in any way, resemble a bit part. And the meaning of it all. About microcosms and their counterpart, macrocosms. About the physical and the metaphysical.

Make no mistake. Read the Scriptures in context. And read them in relation to one another. And let’s all meet on the moon’s surface. To sip. And sup. To tell stories of days of yore; and of days, to come. To communally vote — most importantly — on all things — existential.

I’ve no more Meadows to troubleshoot me out of my perpetual problem-making. But not having someone to watch over me can be problematic, itself. Admittedly, I called the staffer’s who’s probably gonna corroborate, allegedly thrown food; but I was just investigating for myself, however, implausibly.

Admittedly, it’s looking pretty bleak for me. Ironically, my prospects seem to be paralleling, Joe Biden’s. And in both parties, younger candidates are biting at the bit, mirroring, their constituents. But asteroidal and alien visitations may, my spark my campaign, implausibly.

The irony isn’t lost upon me. The ironies, in fact, are many. Permanently banished from Twitter, I haven’t been, from Patricia’s Paris, banned. Nor have I been banned, otherwise, internationally. Beckons to me, atwitter, surreally, my fated and fateful dictatorship.

“I think that’s why poets who use Twitter as another medium for writing and not just self-promotion really kill it. Like Melissa Broder,” says Ms Smallwood; Priestsissy; the progeny of a mid-western, God-gang; she of ‘Rape Joke’ fame; or infamy. Stricken was I by words attributed to Patricia, of her authorship.

It’s looking bleak. For me. For Joe. And for our parties. But everybody knows that there are a few things that one can do to enliven a party. There are games. And party favors. A lot of hullabaloo, distracting. In the case of the Earth tho, there’s little time left. So says Arthur.

The plots are thickening. And converging. There’s little time left, to act. Soon, methinks, enters the dragon. For the umpteenth time, I assure ye; I’m no prophet. Arthur’s not no prophet neither. We have good reason to believe that its the Watcher, who’s the author.

For the umpteenth time, I assure. I’m no prophet. Arthur’s not no prophet neither. Actually, having considered this issue at length in our lunar soirées, we have good reason to believe that it is the Watcher who is the author actually. So says Arthur. But I daresay, I agree, with Arthur.

Indeed, I daresay; I agree with Arthur. For the umpteenth time, I assure; I’m no prophet. Neither’s Arthur. Only one thing’s for sure in this story. I’ll take the credit. Albeit we have good reason to believe that the Watcher is the actual author, I’ll get the credit for being the author.

In a sense, the story of Earth, is timeless. Some theorists theorize that this is the umpteenth simulation. Creation and its aftermath. It’s the circle of life. Lives filled with illusions; delusions of one sort or another. Therein rage battles between good and evil. Therein are we — here — on Earth.

Socrates was wisest. Time dulls the senses. Creature comforts dull them too. Stay tuned to chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought — strike NASA from that list. NASA‘s — in denial. NASA‘s in denial about what’s happening in 2022 on Earth.

IN 2022

2022. Nostradamus. Baba Vanga. Chicken Little. Aliens. And an asteroid. Socrates was wise. As learned as he was tho, he professed to know nothing. Likewise, as learned as I am, I must confess: Tho I know nothing, the setting of MORONS AND ALIENS is Urantia — renamed by Satan — the Earth.

The stories of Chicken Little and Ezekiel are similar to this one. It’s the story of us. Humans. A planet. And an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. As learned as I am, I confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia, renamed by Satan, the Earth.

Chicken Little and Ezekiel. Nostradamus and Baba Vanga. Colorful characters, both fictional and nonfictional, by His Grace grace the verses of MORONS AND ALIENS. And its settings are two. Urantia‘s moon. And Urantia. Renamed by Satan — the Earth.

Colorful characters both fictional and nonfictional grace the pages of MORONS AND ALIENS. And its settings are two. The moon. And Urantia. Renaming Satan the Earth, he set a fateful asteroid on a collision path with the Earth. On a collision course with an oncoming asteroid, is the Earth.

On a collision course is the Earth. It’s on a rendezvous course, as well. As per Baba Vanga, both events are scheduled to happen in 2022. Like Art before me, I am copying the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. I am warning the Earth. I expect that within 6 months — stricken — shall be, the Earth.

Like Arturo before me, I am copying the tactics of Ezekiel and Chicken Little. To warn the Earth. To warn the citizens of the nations. Unexpectedly, no one is taking my warnings seriously. Verily, I truly expect that within 6 months — stricken — shall be, the Earth.

Within 6 months — stricken, shall be the Earth. Sometime thereafter, the aliens shall appear. The aliens that have been freely buzzing around our planet for centuries, if not, many thousands of years. My mission — my mission, impossible, is to save the citizens, of the nations, of the Earth.

My MORONS AND ALIENS; it’s a story with two settings. Luna, Earth‘s moon and Urantia, also known as the Earth. It’s a true story of the Earth, Baba Vanga, asteroids and visiting aliens, in 2022. Its words ring; they ring true to my ears. Come tribulations — Then — a rebirth.

In a sense, the story of Earth, is timeless. Some theorists theorize that this is the umpteenth simulation. Creation and its aftermath. It’s the circle of life. Lives filled with illusions; delusions of one sort or another. Therein rage battles between good and evil. Therein are we — here — on Earth.

Socrates was wisest. Time dulls the senses. Creature comforts dull them too. Stay tuned to chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought — strike NASA from that list. NASA‘s — in denial. NASA‘s in denial about what’s happening in 2022 on Earth.

This implausible story of the Earth; this story of Baba Vanga, a visiting asteroid and visiting aliens, in 2022. Its words ring; and they ring true. Come tribulations. Then, rebirth.
What’s true in micocosm, in macrocosm, is likely true as well. Come soon — it seems — visitors — to Earth.

The implausible story of the Earth. It’s implausible no matter how ye slice it. Science is often useful. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s less than useful. Scientific filters — often blind. Science is often useful. But sometimes it’s been less than useful on Earth.

Sometimes we go backwards, evolution, notwithstanding. Too oft in fact, we indeed go backwards. Witness the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. I’ve been briefed by Art. He’s explained my role to me. And I’m up to it. I’m ready; I was born ready — I was born to be a hero.

Witness devolution in the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. And so I’ve been briefed by Art. In our soirées, Art has explained my role to me. I’m up to it. I’m ready. I like to say, I was born ready; I was born to be a hero, or alternatively, an antihero.

URANTIA IS EARTH

There’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose. I am come to fulfill my purpose.

Verily, I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose. I am come to tell a story; to fulfill my purpose. We are all players upon stages. And every part, is a bit part. Play your part. Accomplish — yer purpose.

Whatever happens doesn’t matter; no matter what happens, I’ve emerged from every sewer, smelling like a rose. My vast past experience as president has nothing to do with it. Think of it like this. In this simulation, I’m the antihero. Maybe — in another — perhaps — ye’ll get, the part.

In this simulation, I’m the antihero. In another perhaps, ye’ll get the part. In any event, what happens doesn’t matter; no matter what happens, I’ve emerged from every sewer, smelling like a rose. My vast past experience as president has nothing to do with it. Think of it like this — I got the part.

Think of it like this. All the world’s a grand stage. And all the men and women, players; with exits and entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts. Bit parts, all of them. Art and me, tho; we got — the best parts. Ours is the globe theater’s grandest stage. Art and me; we got the best parts.

Think of it like this. All the world’s a grand stage. And all the men and women, players; with exits and entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts. Bit parts, all of them. Art and me, tho; we got — the best parts. Ours is the globe theater’s grandest stage. Art and me; we got the best parts.

The planet’s grandest stage, I‘ve shared with my brother dictators. brothers. I had had no doubt; or little doubt if at all; that my brother dictators and me have gotten the best parts, on Earth. But my doubt grew. With each conversation I had with Art, my doubts, doubled in size, as they grew in size.

I had had no doubt; no doubt at all; that my brother dictators and me have gotten the best parts, on Earth. But my doubt grew. With each lunar soirée, my doubts doubled in size, as they grew. The planet’s grandest stage, I‘ve shared with my brother dictators and 8 billion others — I now — realize.

Sometimes we go backwards, evolution, notwithstanding. Too oft in fact, we indeed go backwards. Witness the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. I’ve been briefed by Art. He’s explained my role to me. And I’m up to it. I’m ready; I was born ready — I was born to be a hero.

Witness devolution in the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding. And so I’ve been briefed by Art. In our soirées, Art has explained my role to me. I’m up to it. I’m ready. I like to say, I was born ready; I was born to be a hero, or alternatively, an antihero.

I was born to be a hero. That’s what I was born to be. That’s why my mom called me her little hero — once. Still, I’m up to the task. I’m a genius. And I’m stable. Apart from sexual excitement, I try hard not to get too excited. In any event, it looks like I got the antihero part, ’tis true.

I got the part. Of course, I got the part. It’s only fair. I’m the humblest, the wisest, and the brightest wise guy, that ever lived. However; now that I’ve locked up the part, I’ve got to admit: I’m a wee bit worried about a couple of Baba Vanga’s predictions for — calendar year 2022.

2022. Nostradamus. Baba Vanga. Chicken Little. Aliens. And an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. I’m with Socrates. As learned as I am, I must confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia — renamed by Satan — Earth.

The stories of Chicken Little and Ezekiel are similar to this one. Of a planet and an asteroid. Socrates was a wise man. As learned as he was, he professed to know nothing. I’m with Socrates. As learned as I am, I must confess: I know nothing. The setting is Urantia — renamed by Satan — Earth.

‘TIS 2024 — MINUS TWO

The year is two — plus 2020. We lost the answers along our way to the year of our Lord in 2020. The year celebrated as the year of the rat. Burning questions existential, I aim to like Who are we? Where are we? Where are we going? And what for makes four. The year is 2020 — plus two.

Nobody’s talking about the aliens; their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids; and their possible motive in gold. Aliens and viruses and asteroids, oh my! Arises from the Urantians, The Donald, The Bold. Art finds humor in anything. The year is 2020 — plus two.

Comes either an invasion or arrival on Earth by aliens in 2022. And an asteroid too, in 2022. They’re not on anyone’s agenda. Certainly, not NASA’s. But the Bulgarian mystic, Baba Vanga predicted both happenings for 2022, Follow chachomanopapa and NASA about what’s in store for 2022.

Time dulls the senses. Creature comforts, dull them as well. Stay tuned to chachomanopapa.com and to NASA about what’s in store for us in 2022. On second thought — strike NASA from that list. NASA‘s — in denial. NASA‘s in denial about what’s happening, in 2022.

Art can find humor in anything. Most things, anyway. He can be annoying. But mostly, he’s engaging. He tries to be useful. The year is 2020 (plus two). China’s trending up. US is trending down. Down too, already, is Russia. Thanks to Vlad, Russia’s down. Thanks to Xi, China’s relatively up, in 2022.

Who are we? Where are we? And where on Earth or elsewhere are we going? The answers to these three existential questions we’ve lost along our way to the year of the virus; the year of the coronavirus. ‘Twas in the year of the rat. ‘Twas in the year of our Lord, 2020. ‘Tis 2024 — minus two.

Who knew? Who knew the Bulgarian mystic, Baba Vanga? Who knew that Baba Vanga is as widely known in the East as she is unknown in the West? And who knew she predicted last century that both aliens and an asteroid would cross paths, this year with the Earth.

Who knew Baba Vanga ? Who knew that Baba Vanga is as widely known in the East as she is unknown in the West And who knew she predicted way back in the last century that both aliens and an asteroid would cross paths this very year with the Earth.

Who knew Baba Vanga? Baba Vanga, born Vangelia Pandeva Dimitrova, was raised in Strumica, a village located at the foot of a volcanic mountain range in what was then the Ottoman Empire. She passed away in 1996 at age 85, having been dubbed by then, the Nostradamus — from the Balkans.”

Who are we? Where are we? And where on Earth or elsewhere are we going? And what on Earth for? Four good questions beg more. Thankfully, that’s what I’m here for. That’s what heros are for. It’s been a bad week for some. Roe v Wade. The EPA. Justice Jackson, notwithstanding.

Roe v Wade got overruled. The EPA, got gutted. Justice Jackson, notwithstanding. It was a bad week, Ketanjii, notwithstanding. Evolutionarily speaking, sometimes it’s three steps forward before two steps backwards. Sometimes we go backwards, evolution, notwithstanding.

Indeed, ofttimes it’s three steps forward before two or more steps backwards. Sometimes we go backwards, evolution, notwithstanding. Too oft in fact, we indeed go backwards.
Witness the devolving progress of the pilgrim, evolution, notwithstanding.

There’s more to this story than meets the eye. That’s why, Art says, it’s an allegory. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose.

There’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose. I am come to fulfill my purpose.

BEYOND WHAT’S HAPPENING

Who are we? And where are we? And where on Earth — or elsewhere — are we going? The answers to these three burning existential questions we’ve lost along our way to the year of the virus; the year of the coronavirus. ‘Twas in the year of our Lord, 2020.

Three burning questions existential, I aim to answer; answering questions like who we are, where we are and where we’re going. We lost the answers along our way to the year of the our Lord in 2020. The year celebrated as the year of the rat. The year was 2020.

Nobody’s talking about the alien connection; their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids; and their possible motive in gold. Aliens and viruses and asteroids, oh my! Arises from the Urantians, The Donald, The Bold. Art could find the humor in anything.

With just their menacing tails, wide swathes of the planet; whole populations control, the state dragons. The dragons keeps the citizens from expressing themselves; dragons keep them from speaking their minds. The citizens are not amused. And not that Art could find the humor in anything.

Aliens and asteroids and dragons oh my! What hasn’t mankind to fear when in addition to aliens and asteroids and a pandemic, a shape-shifting dragon has taken on the appearance of a man; or even a woman. Who’s to say Ginni Thomas isn’t actually a dragon?

This is not to say that Ginni’s actually a shape-shifting dragon; or that she’s the devil himself. And how could I possibly say that all I know is that I know nothing. Socrates is said to have said that all he knew was that he knew nothing. So who’s to say Ginni Thomas, isn’t actually, a dragon?

My sage point: Nothing that I allege herein is offered as proof of the proposition. Recall: This is just another run-of-mill allegory. The proof is in the pudding. I implore humanity to acknowledge possibilities we’re not acknowledging.
Ginni’s a problem. But — so are the aliens.

The proof is in the pudding. I implore humanity to acknowledge possibilities we’re not acknowledging.
Ginni’s a problem. But not like the aliens. Ginni’s just an existential threat to democracy. The aliens promise to be all that — and more. We ought — acknowledge — the aliens.

Ginni’s an existential threat to democracy, to be sure. The aliens promise to be all that for sure — and likely, far more. We ought acknowledge the aliens. We ought acknowledge that we’ve been sharing, for God only knows how long, the Earth with them.

Enter the dragons; all at once; hordes of them. Too few men know enough to avoid what’s happening. Too few men even know what’s happening. I however, know, what’s happening. I know what’s happening. Enter the dragons. All I know is that, no one but me, knows nothing.

Everything’s happening all at once. And no one’s making the connections between apparently unrelated happenings; between animal mutilations and a pandemic; and between the possibility of an alien invasion. And climate change. And famine. And world-wide inflation.

In the distance, some of the Chinese, less than sympathetically look on. The US is unraveling right before them. A roaring fire, was going on, already. There was no need for an accelerant. There was no need to overrule precedent. There was no need for gasoline — No need — for no, conflagration.

Three burning questions existential, I aim to answer; answering questions like who we are, where we are and where we’re going. We lost the answers along our way to the year of the our Lord in 2020. The year celebrated as the year of the rat. The year was 2020. 

Nobody’s talking about the aliens; their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids; and their possible motive in gold. Aliens and viruses and asteroids, oh my! Arises from the Urantians, The Donald, The Bold. Art finds humor in anything. The year is two — plus 2020.

ENTERS THE DRAGON

When Arthur entered upon the stage — then too — entered the dragon. I’m a humble man. Still, ’tis what ’tis. I got the part. I gots handsomeness. I gots also a flawed and hubris-tainted personality. I gots narcissism — malignant. No — I’m not the Devil. But the Devil and I — did — make a bargain.

Yeah. I got the part. As did my womb-mate brothers. For the most part, it’s been great. Each of us rules in his disparate country. And each of us is sovereign over nominal and shadow governments. And shell corporations. But each of us made with the Devil — a bargain.

I’m a humble man. Everybody knows that. Still, ’tis what ’tis. I got the part. I got the part of the flawed personality; the handsome devil who saw being the center of attention as central to his being. It wasn’t ‘til Art entered my life, that entered my freaking, fucking, dragon.

Arthur came suddenly, it seemed. From out of the
blue. Not Big Bang suddenly. In a sense not suddenly at all, I guess, actually. It’s been 74 years on Earth for me. Less for my womb-mate brothers. Go figure. That’s information that’s beyond my pay grade. I’m an angel on a mission.

I’m an antihero on a mission. No guardian angel, I’m just an antihero on a mission. It’s been over 74 years on Earth for me. Less for my womb-mate, mission-mates. How that happened, nobody knows. Go figure. That info’s beyond, my pay grade. Art’s the planetary troubleshooter.

How the variously aged dictators all happened to be in the same womb, nobody knows. That information’s way beyond, my need to know; it’s way beyond my pay grade. Even Art, the planetary troubleshooter, can’t answer that. But then again —no need to know how that was done — had Arthur.

Art doesn’t know how those womb transfers work. That’s someone else’s job. Being beyond his need to know, even the hotshot planetary troubleshooter, can’t answer that. Arthur had no need to know how that got done. Art always likes to say that — like Socrates, he knows, nothing.

Art always likes to say that like Socrates, he knows nothing. But when Arthur enters upon a stage, then too enters the dragon. My prodigal brother’s a lot like me. ‘Tis what ’tis. I got the part. I gots looks. I gots also a fucked up personality. I gots my narcissism. And I made with the Devil, a bargain.

My prodigal brother’s a lot like me. And as different as can be. He’s narcissistic to be sure but still, he’s a bleeding heart liberal Democrat. I’m a proud and hard-hearted Republican. It’s no wonder Art likes to say that like Socrates, he knows nothing. But when he enters on stage — enters — the dragon.

My prodigal brother’s a lot like me. When he enters, enters the dragon. Still, he’s as different as can be. He’s narcissistic to be sure but he’s a bleeding heart liberal Democrat. It’s no wonder Art likes to say that like Socrates, he knows nothing. But when he enters on stage enters the dragon.

Art is fond of saying that he knows nothing. He knows that such a disclaimer functions to lower the pressure on him. Art likes to keep his stresses to a minimum. He professes to know nothing. But I know better. I value Art’s opinion. And I value Art’s wisdom.

Acting silly. Acting stupid. Trying to find the humor in any given situation. As a narcissist, Art was strangely likable. Ever saying that he knows nothing, he well opined, on everything. Vlad’s guys too, favored Arthur and his banter. Arthur always found the humor in everything.

Art could find the humor in anything. And he found, ironically, that people often found that, most annoying. And as Arthur always found the humor in everything, speaking his mind would sometimes — ofttimes — find people, annoyed. And so Art learned not to say a lot of things.

Nobody’s talking about the alien connection. their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids and their possible motive in gold. Aliens and viruses and asteroids, oh my! Arises from the Urantians, The Donald, The Bold. Art could find the humor in anything.

Who are we? Where are we? And where on Earth or elsewhere are we going? The answers to these three existential questions we’ve lost along our way to the year of the virus; the year of the coronavirus. ‘Twas in the year of the rat. ‘Twas in the year of our Lord, 2020.

KIM XI VLAD MO — AND ME

There’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me — moving and shaking nations. I am come to fulfill my purposes. I am come to save the Earth, ’tis true but that’s a plot that lies within a far larger story. With far greater purpose.

Meanwhile back in the US, China’s alarming us with private warnings to avoid the Strait. Chinese military officials have told us that the Chinese consider the Taiwan Strait to be located not in international waters but in waters, Chinese. Candid seem the Chinese — about their purpose.

Back in the US the US it seems is unraveling. Time, calculate the Chinese, now’s, on their side. But time doesn’t take sides. Time’s impartial. The Chinese are akin to us. Too many nationalists; too few humanist, Chinese. Like Americans are the Chinese. Imperialist too — are the Chinese.

Unlike Socrates how could I possibly say that all I know is that I know nothing. How could I possibly say something like that? Socrates is said to have told a whopper like that. He once said that only he was present when entered the dragon. Imagine that. Imagine when enter dragons, Chinese.

Unlike Socrates how could I possibly say that all I know is that I know nothing. How could I possibly say something like that? Socrates is said to have told a whopper like that. He once said that only he was present when entered the dragon. Imagine that. Imagine when enter dragons, Chinese.

Socrates is said to have told a whopper like that. And he once once said only he was present when entered the last dragon. Imagine that. Another whopper from Socrates. Everyone knows dragons, live still, in China. Still, the nations may be invaded by — survivalist dragons — Chinese.

Far be it from me to tell even a little white lie. And white is my favorite color. Much less would I ever tell a whopper of a lie. I’ve run into some traffic in conspiracy theories. But that doesn’t mean I traffic in them. The only sure thing is that if I ever fall into a sewer — I’ll emerge, smelling — like a rose.

I won’t tell even little white lies. Much less would I ever tell a whopper of a lie. Sure; I’ve run into some traffic in conspiracy theories. That doesn’t mean I traffic in them. The only sure thing is that if I ever fall into a sewer — I’ll emerge from said sewer — smelling — like a rose.

Whatever happens; it doesn’t matter what; no matter what happens, I’ve emerged from every sewer, smelling like a rose. My vast past experience as president has nothing to do with it. Think of it like this. In this simulation, I’m the antihero. Naybe — in another simulation — ye’ll get the part.

Indeed, there’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me moving and shaking nations. I am come to fulfill purposes. One’s to save the Earth, ’tis true but that’s but one of infinite stories we’re working on — in part.

Whatever happens doesn’t matter; no matter what happens, I’ve emerged from every sewer, smelling like a rose. My vast past experience as president has nothing to do with it. Think of it like this. In this simulation, I’m the antihero. Maybe — in another — perhaps — ye’ll get, the part.

In this simulation, I’m the antihero. In another perhaps, ye’ll get the part. In any event, what happens doesn’t matter; no matter what happens, I’ve emerged from every sewer, smelling like a rose. My vast past experience as president has nothing to do with it. Think of it like this — I got the part.

I’m a humble man. Everybody knows that. Still, ’tis what ’tis. I got the part. I got the part of the flawed personality; the handsome devil who saw being the center of attention as central to my being. It wasn’t ‘til Art entered my life, that entered — a freaking — dragon.

When Arthur entered upon the stage — then too — entered the dragon. I’m a humble man. Still, ’tis what ’tis. I got the part. I got handsomeness. I gots also, a flawed, hubris-tainted, personality. Yeah; I got narcissism, malignant. No, I’m not the Devil. The Devil and I — made a bargain.

THE DUALITY OF PURPOSE

There’s more to this story than meets the eye. That’s why, Art says, it’s an allegory. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose.

There’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose. I am come to fulfill my purpose.

Tonight again a King Lear like figure rants and raves as power slips away from him and a glamorous couple struggles to rise above multiple shady frays even as thugs and other shady characters, chant about hanging Mike. His hanging, for them, would serve — a noble purpose.

King Lear and I; we’ve got a lot in common. Frenemies are we with everybody. We demand loyalty. We’re loyal to no one. But King Lear’s story pales next to mine. One of Vlad’s guys, was I, once upon a time. But if I could turn things around, it would serve for us — a noble purpose.

The paths that run to our galaxy’s black hole run largely in parallel. Primrosed paths mark the path and the progress of the pilgrims. There’s an infrastructure metaphysical that dominates the space between celestial bodies. Surrounding that matter’s, dark matter — and dark energy.

No one saw the Big Bang coming. No one saw climate change coming. Ditto, the asteroid. Witness the end for Putin’s government. No one also saw it coming. But not seeing something coming doesn’t mean it’s not coming. More goes on here than meets the eye, certainly.

Through a portal and along an elongated path lies part if the pilgrim’s progress. Paths run to our galaxy’s black hole, run largely, in parallel. A primrose path marks the progress, of pilgrims; paths running to black holes and back. Pilgrims trudging along it see primroses lining the paths of the pilgrim.

Through a portal to a black hole and back. Pilgrims trudge along it; primroses, line it. Long and desperate is the way, of the pilgrim. Long down a long path to a black hole and at time back. Someday, long along that path, desperation shall yield to the joy of salvation. That’s the way of the pilgrim.

Through portals. To black holes. And back again, sometimes. It’s dizzyingly fast. And sometimes the circumstances are such that the administrators turn one around; like when one dies, and is revived. It’s a manyfold, lives-long, trek; the trek to Heaven. Take it from Agent 4547.

No one saw the Big Bang coming. No one saw climate change coming. Ditto, the asteroid. Witness the end for Putin’s government. No one saw any of these things coming. But not seeing something coming doesn’t mean it’s not coming. Take it from the most decorated, Agent 4547.

Not seeing something coming doesn’t mean it’s not coming. No one saw the Big Bang coming. No one saw climate change coming. Ditto, the asteroid. And now witness the end for Putin and possibly, Russia itself. Take it from me, Putin’s most decorated, national asset, Agent 4547.

We can sometimes see coming, physical things. Less so, the metaphysical things — things like events — and happenings. This is a good example of the significance of the metaphysical infrastructure, that is to say, the physical and the metaphysical structure of the universes — and Heaven.

There’s more to this story than meets the eye. That’s why, Art says, it’s an allegory. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose.

There’s far more to this story than meets the eye. There’s more to this just Xi and Kim and Vlad and Mo and me, moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to fulfill my purpose. But I am come to save the Earth within a larger story. And a greater purpose. I am come to fulfill my purpose.

ALIEN AND ASTEROIDS AND DRAGONS — OH MY!

Aliens and asteroids and dragons — oh my! What hasn’t, mankind to fear when in addition to aliens and asteroids, a shape-shifting dragon has taken on the appearance of a man. Who’s to say Vlad isn’t actually a dragon? He may well be a sour cream and borscht loving, fire breathing, dragon.

This is not to say that Vlad’s actually a shape-shifting dragon; or that he’s the devil himself; or anything — really. How could I? Unlike Socrates how could I possibly say that all I know is that I know nothing. Socrates is said to have said that only he was present when — entered the dragon.

What’s not to believe? And what’s not to write about the morons and aliens on Earth? Through a portal and along an elongated path lies the Pilgrims Progress. Paths that run to our galaxy’s black hole, run largely, in parallel. Paths, primrosed, mark the progress of the pilgrims, exactingly.

Paths that run to our galaxy’s black hole run largely in parallel. Primrosed paths mark the path; and the progress of the pilgrims. There’s an infrastructure metaphysical that dominates the space between the celestial bodies. Surrounding matter, is dark matter and dark energy.

No one saw the Big Bang coming. No one saw climate change coming. Ditto, the asteroid. Witness the end for Vladimir’s government. No one also saw it coming; but not seeing something coming doesn’t mean it’s not coming. More goes on here than meets the eye.

That doesn’t mean that it’s not coming. Not if it’s on course and on time. If it’s on course and on time, it’ll arrive, when we collide. On time; in time. The asteroid we can’t see sans infra-red capability will get here when it gets here and with us then, unexpectedly, collide.

Not seeing something coming doesn’t mean that it’s not coming. Not if it’s on course; and on time. Asteroids get here when they get here. They’re punctual about that, simulation or not. If it’s on course and on time, it’ll arrive, when we collide. On time; in time.

There was no one around to see the Big Bang coming. Too few saw climate change coming. And no one but me is pointing out the irony revealed by an asteroid; that would catapult me back into the running of a country. Witness the end for Putin. No one saw this one coming — but me — this time.

How could I? Unlike Socrates how could I possibly say that all I know is that I know nothing. Socrates is said to have said that he wasn’t present when entered the dragon. Who’s to say Vlad isn’t a monster if not a dragon. Even if not technically a dragon, Putin is easily — a monster.

Paths in parallel run to the black hole at the beginning of time; our time, that is to say. Primrosed paths I say some have said, marks the path and the progress of the pilgrims. There’s an infrastructure metaphysical that dominates space. It’s this infrastructure metaphysical, that matters.

There is in fact no good reason to believe in conflict as a way to resolve disputes. It’s conduct that ought be, by now, outdated. Akin to black lives, the Ukraine matters. Everything matters. Everything‘s connected. And there’s no good reason to conflict. So, what’s up — with that?

Not that it matters but ironically, everything’s connected. More than we know. If conflict comes too naturally to men and women, it may be that this really is just another simulation. In a perfect world, given adequate resources, there is no reason for conflict. That’s what’s up with that.

That’s what’s up with that. As to what’s happening on Earth and the Universes at large, read on. There’s more to this than just Xi and Kim and Vlad and me; moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to save the Earth, to be sure. But I am come to, purposely, save the Earth.

There’s more to this than just Xi and Kim and Vlad and me; Vlad’s guys, moving and shaking nations. I am come to save the Earth but I am come to, purposely, save the Earth. I am come to fulfill my purpose. And that, implausibly — near incredibly — is to save, the Earth.

PUTINS AS GOOD AS GONE

Aliens and asteroids and dragons — oh my! What hasn’t, mankind to fear? Naturally fearful are we. And we’ve got far more to fear, than just fear, itself. There are aliens nobody talks about. And there’s an asteroid nobody talks about either. No one knows of aliens, possibly avian, or reptilian.

Witness my relationships with Vlad, Kim, Xi and our designated slayer, Mohammed. We dictators have a lot to hide. We won’t want to create a panic. And we’ll want to guard our mutual secrets. We sure won’t want to create a panic. Aliens and asteroids sometimes, occasion, a pandemonium.

Aliens and asteroids ofttimes, occasion, pandemonium; dragons, less so, these days. Recapping, our ball-lightning-stricken antihero, Arthur Everman is multi-tasking; cadence and content are key. Key too in turn are the impacts. The impact of an asteroid. And the impact of words.

It hath come to pass. Notwithstanding the fast approach of an asteroid an oblivious humanity is distracted by a host of matters. It could be the cancer that’s making Vlad feel suicidal. But it’s probably the impact on me of the Ukraine‘s Zelensky’s, less than gracious — unkind, words.

It may be cancer that’s making Vlad feel suicidal; more likely, it’s Zelensky and Ukraine. Everything seems happening at once. The plot lines are converging. Notwithstanding the approach of an asteroid, distracted is humanity; and by a host of matters besides China, Taiwan, Ukraine and Russia’s Kremlin.

Lots to hide, have Vlad’s guys. And now with the invasion of the Ukraine, their covering stories, are unraveling. Vlad’s especially has quickly, and dramatically, unraveled. The die are cast. Vlad likely shall be departing soon. Vladimir Putin likely soon shall be departing, from the Ukraine and the Kremlin.

The die are cast. The President of the Russian Federation, looks to be departing soon from the Kremlin. And Patrushev, in the wings, awaits what in Russia passes for an orderly transition of power. Vladimir Putin likely soon shall be permanently, departing, from the Ukraine and the Kremlin.

Nikolai Patrushev awaits in the wings for what in Russia nowadays passes for an orderly transition of power. Vladimir Putin likely soon shall be permanently, departing, from the Ukraine and the Kremlin. And from the world stage, too. Not too many will miss Putin, at the Kremlin.

The die are cast. Putin‘s as good as gone. The President of the Russian Federation, looks to be, soon, departing. Nikolai awaits what in Russia is going to pass for an orderly transition. Putin has been spotted, cleaning out his Kremlin office, sipping on occasion from a not so soupy borscht.

Putin’s been spotted cleaning his Kremlin office. Attending farewell parties; eating a lot of cake. He’ll never not say “da” to a bowl of borscht. Beef-flavored borscht oft comes from Ukraine. It’s oft served with sour cream. Vlad’s done gone crazy dreaming about sour cream and borscht.

The world record for the longest book title belongs to Doctor Vityala Yethindra. His title contains 3,777 words and over 26,000 characters. A title that long draws attention. A title that long seems crazy. It’s not as crazy as this crazy state of affairs. Witness Vlad’s joke about sour cream and borscht.

Aliens and asteroids and dragons — oh my! What hasn’t, mankind to fear when, in addition to aliens and asteroids, a shape-shifting dragons take on the appearance of men. And who’s to say that Vlad isn’t actually a dragon. He’s a fire-breathing dragon — fond of sour cream and borscht.

ANGRY BIRDS — ANGRY CROCS

On Earth devolution is happening the fastest in America. Only inflation, seems faster. Even that may yet turn out to be, yet another illusion. Illusions like exceptionalism, American — and Chinese. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion — that his kind is the best kind upon the face of the Earth.

Illusions like the exceptionalism of whatever race, nationality or religion with which one happens to identify. Our races, our nationalities and our religions, especially. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion that his kind is the best kind upon the face of the Earth. ’Tis what ’tis — on Earth.

Come to save ye and yer lovely planet, am I; me and my ex-wombmates. We are still five. Really tho we are but four. Vlad’s plan (Vlad said), was for just four. For just us, to rule; Vlad and Kim and Xi and me. Just us; all by ourselves at the very top of the global food chain.

Technically, we are still five. Practically tho, we’re down to four. Vlad’s plan (Vlad said), was for just us four. For just us to rule; Vlad and Kim and Xi and me. Just us all by ourselves at the very top of the food chain. Who knew? Who knew that we might end up in the food chain?

Ye heard it here first. Here too, just as in that bifurcated tale from the American heartland, nobody’s talking about this. Nobody’s talking about the undreamed of connection of little-seen, presumably, little green aliens with our gold. Who’d a thunk it? Nobody but me, asks about aliens.

Nobody’s talking about the connection of aliens with anything; much less about their connection with everything; their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids and a motive in gold. I’m not saying that what’s happening, is in fact, due to aliens.

Nobody’s alleging that the aliens planned all along to sicken us with Covid viruses, crashing us then into an asteroid, to enslave us. We may end up mining our own gold for the aliens. But they might vaccinate us against the Covid viruses. They’ll want to keep the slaves alive for the gold mining.

I’m not saying that what’s happening is as a matter of fact, the doing of aliens. I don’t know that. Nobody’s alleging that unseen aliens sickened us with a virus only to crash us into an asteroid. Only to save and then enslave their future gold miners. But that might be what’s happening.

That might be what’s happening. It may well be that we can’t appreciate what’s actually happening. As part of a simulation, we’re not ’real’ in that sense. That part of us that is Divine is real of course. But everything else, is a construct, designed for purposes, beyond us. Purposes, alien.

That’s one possibility. But it’s just one. Unfortunately, somehow; for some illogically inexplicable reason, we won’t consider some of the more compelling scenarios as possibilities because we’d then have to mix the human experience with the experience of aliens.

Leaders like me won’t want to create a panic. Leaders like me (and Vlad’s guys too), are wont to distinguish ourselves. Witness, my relations with my lover mentor Vlad, my lover Kim, my rival Xi and my designated slayer, Mohammed. We’ve got a lot to hide. We won’t want to create, a panic.

Witness my relationships with Vlad, Kim, Xi and our designated slayer, Mohammed. We’ve got a lot to hide. We won’t want to create a panic. And we’ll want to guard our mutual secrets. We won’t want to create, a panic. Things like aliens and asteroids, sometimes, cause a panic.

Aliens and asteroids. And dragons too. All create a panic; amongst men; at least, historically. It’s revealing that dragons present so cross-culturally, so trans-globally. We share 97% of our DNA with our animal friends. The so-called aliens may well be of a character, avian — or even reptilian.

Aliens and asteroids and dragons — oh my! What hasn’t, mankind to fear? Naturally fearful are we. And we’ve got far more to fear than just fear, itself. There’s aliens nobody talks about. And there’s an asteroid nobody talks about either. No one knows of aliens, possibly avian, or reptilian.

AN AWFUL CLIMAX — JOHNNY AND AMBER

Before we fought for fun, mankind fought for sheer survival. Survival’s never a given. Not on Earth; not with all its wild animals and wild men. From tribals to nationals hath man evolved. But he’s stuck at the state stage. To a standstill hath come progress, for the pilgrim.

From tribals to nationals hath man evolved along the path of the pilgrim. But he’s stuck now at the stage of the state. To a standstill hath come, the pilgrim’s progress. What had been ad-hoc fighting has devolved to fighting planned, by the state’s, very own, citizen, pilgrims.

To a standstill hath come the pilgrim’s progress. The states, now reign. Ad-hoc fighting has devolved to fighting, institutionally, planned. From tribals to nationals hath man evolved along the path of the pilgrim. But he’s stuck at the stage of the state. In a terrible state, is the Earth.

Poor is the state of the Earth. Poor too is the state of the Earthlings living upon it. Our sexual natures confound us. Sex, as always, complicates. These states have us — deathspiraling. In a terrible state is the pilgrim. And in a terrible state is the state of the Earth.

Poor indeed is the state of the Earth and the state of the Earthlings living upon it. Our sexual natures confound us. Sex, as always, complicates things. With an asteroid coming, still, I’m force-fed, Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. Awful’s the state is the pilgrim. Awful’s the state of the Earth.

Entering a deathspiral find themselves, the nations. Witness The League of Nations and its successor, today’s equally ineffective, United Nations. Poor is the state of the Earth. Poor too is the state of the Earthlings. Fear not tho! I am come to save ye Earthlings — and yer Earth.

Come to save ye and yer lovely planet, am I; me and my ex-wombmates. Technically, we are still five. Effectively tho, we are but four. Vlad’s plan (Vlad said), was for just us four. For just us, to rule; Vlad and Kim and Xi and me. Just us, all by ourselves, at the very top of the food chain.

Technically, we are still five. Practically tho, we’re down to four. Vlad’s plan (Vlad said), was for just us four. For just us, to rule; Vlad and Kim and Xi and me. Just us, all by ourselves, at the very top of the food chain. Who knew? Who knew that we might end up — in the food chain?

States now reign. To a standstill hath come the pilgrim’s progress. Ad-hoc fighting’s devolved to fighting, institutionalized. From tribals to nationals hath man evolved along the path of the pilgrim. But he’s stuck at the stage of the state. In a terribly awful state — is the state of the Earth.

Before we fought for fun, mankind fought for sheer survival. Survival’s never been a given. Not on Earth; not on any planet, where life has begun to evolve. Evolution; it’s the process that is the driving force behind the progress of the pilgrims. But it’s devolution that’s happening, on Earth.

In America, some oft fight for fun. For survival too, oft times. Survival’s never a given. Not on Earth; not on any planet. Evolution; it’s the process that’s the driving force behind the progress of the pilgrims. But it’s devolution that’s happening faster in America than anywhere else on Earth.

Once unavailable technologies like GoogleTranslate, now avail. I’d rather tweet to North Korea’s Kim and China’s Xi @xijingping than fight them. So I tweeted Taiwan’s Tsai @iingwen. I thank God for @Twitter on Earth. Still, devolution’s happening fastest in America, on Earth.

Better to tweet to my frenemy than fight him; frenemies like North Korea’s Kim @uriminzok and China’s Xi @xijingping. Why fight? Why not tweet them? I’ve tweeted also Taiwan’s, Tsai, @iingwen. I thank God for @Twitter. Still, devolution’s happening fastest, in America, on Earth.

On Earth devolution’s happening fastest in America. Only inflation, seems faster. Even that may yet turn out to be, yet another illusion. Illusions like exceptionalism, American — and Chinese. Victim has fallen mankind to his delusion — that his kind is the best upon the face of the Earth.

IN MICROCOSM — MORONS — ON A MARBLE

In China’s North Korea, forget not Kim. Having not launched in , I shall be quite surprised if Kim launches not today or tomorrow. On Earth, America, Russia, China, Ukraine and South and North Korea are all playing well, their parts. Accordingly, craving attention, is Kim.

Forget not, Kim. Forget not, North Korea. Having not yet launched these past few days, I shall be quite surprised if Kim launches not today. North Korea’s been playing well its part. Feigning illness or craving attention may be Kim. Faking an illness or craving attention, or both may be The Kim.

Kissinger is now urging the West to stop trying to inflict a crushing defeat on Putin’s Russian forces in Ukraine. The veteran US statesman says that the urge to hurt Putin shall have crushing consequences for the stability of Europe. The universal capital of double-talk, remains, the Earth.

Unofficially, the universal capital of double-talk, remains the Earth. On Earth, words with meaning have been rendered, meaningless. Still, it’s not unusual for anyone to react, melodramatically to the words of another. Sometimes we react melodramatically — even to thoughts — on Earth.

For a few years more; the sad end for some of the aged may be marked sometimes by pining for just a few more years. In sadder ends still, many over these past two years pine for just a few more breaths; long enough to say goodbye. Indeed life is short and then you die, I’ve been heard to say.

Life is short and then you die, I’ve been known to say. I’m often quoted and emulated for many things that I do and say. It used to be that all the young kids wanted to be like Mike. Now they all want to be like me. Life is short I always say. My mentor Vlad, taught me that, he says, to this day.

It used to be that all the young kids wanted to be like Mike. Now they all want to be like me. Life is short I’ve always said. Vladimir taught me that years ago; when he first began to mentor me. Back in 2013. Back in Moscow. These days he mostly pines — for a few score — more years.

Those were the days; our halcyon days. Back in 2013. Back in Moscow. Vladimir taught me the ropes way back when he first began to mentor me. Most days now, he mostly pines for a few more years. But recently, and increasingly, more and more — he’s taken to pining for four score more years.

Those were halcyon days for Vlad and me. They were our golden days. And it’s more than a little ironic that that most precious and rare earth metal lies at the heart of the plot; of The Watcher’s plot. Implausibly; near incredibly, the Watcher would have us ask — ”What’s happening?”

Near incredibly, the Watcher would have us ask of ourselves, ”What’s happening?” Accordingly, ask of yerselves, what’s happening?” Eventually, Kim launched three missiles; an intercontinental and two others, of shorter range. In North Korea, not even Kim knows, what’s happening.

Not quite a book yet, MORONS AND ALIENS, admittedly isn’t on any list yet. It’s not on any list of bestsellers. It hasn’t won any award. As I’ve often tweeted, for a preview of MORONS AND ALIENS, go to Arthur’s blog. It’s an implausible wannabe book blog about aliens, implausibly written — by an alien.

For a virtual preview of MORONS AND ALIENS, go to Arthur’s blog. It’s a wannabe book blog about aliens, not so implausibly written by an alien. Under the circumstances, I’d listen to what Korea’s Kim has to say about the plight of us blissfully oblivious, surface dwelling, Homo sapiens.

On the surface of the Earth reside woefully oblivious and reckless, surface dwellers. Earthlings, we call themselves. Routinely, we fight amongst ourselves. Before we fought for fun, we fought for sheer survival. From tribals to nationals we evolved, along, the pilgrim’s progress.

Before we fought for fun, we fought for sheer, survival. Survival’s never a given. Not on Earth; not with its wild animals and wild men. From tribals to nationals hath man evolved. But he’s stuck at the state stage. To a standstill hath come — the pilgrim’s progress.

ON REPELLING — SURPRISE ATTACKS

Recapitulating, recall that no one on Earth seriously considers any serious, alien-pandemic-asteroidal connection. As many know, I pen from my platform, the truth. I serve it up, cold. You’d think I’d have retired by now to stud. I stud, still. ‘Tis all, methinks, I know.

You’d think I’d have retired to stud. Indeed, I stud still. I pen from my platform, truth. I serve it up, frigidly, cold. As many know, I pen from my platform, the truth. And I serve it up really cold. Methinks I’m a stud, still. Still, too many think still — ‘tis all — I know.

I pen from my platform, truths, social. I serve them up, cold. Like my vengeance, I serve the truth, cold. It’s not for no reason that the truth is so often described as hard and cold.
Too few know it’s because I’ve so often said so. I pen from my platform, my truth. I serve it up, cold.

I serve up the truth. I serve it up cold. All the colder if cold words are in the nature of — not vengeance — but just, retribution. Justice, shall be mine. On Earth; it’s all about conflict; sparring with siblings and elders; sharpening, arms. All part of socialization — I’m told.

On Earth, it’s all about conflict; sparring with siblings and elders; sharpening, arms. Becoming socialized, I’m toldI serve up the truth. I serve it up, ice cold. All the colder if my cold words are in the nature of not vengeance as much as retribution — Justice is on my side — I‘ve been, sold.

On Earth, it’s all about conflict; sparring with siblings and elders; sharpening, arms. Becoming brainwashed, I’m afraid. I serve the truth up cold. All the colder if cold words are in the nature of, not vengeance as much as retribution. Justice is on my side — I‘ve been told.

Witness, magnificence. There’s magnificence in this convergence of events, surreally, eerie. It’s no surprise to me that there is a magnificence at play in this unholy mix of Russia, China, Ukraine and the Koreas. And in China’s North Korea — forget not Kim.

It’s no surprise to me that there is magnificence at play on Earth. In this unholy mix, it’s evident that America, Russia, China, Ukraine and South and North Korea are all playing well, their parts. And in China’s North Korea forget not Kim. Having not launched today — launching tomorrow, is Kim.

In China’s North Korea forget not Kim. Having not yet launched in these past few days, I shall be quite surprised if Kim launches not today or tomorrow. On Earth, America, Russia, China, Ukraine and South and North Korea are all playing well, their parts. Craving attention is Kim.

Craving attention is Xi’s, as if troublesome and meddlesome, ’lil brother Kim. I’ll be quite surprised if Kim launches not today or tomorrow. Craving attention is Kim. With Biden in Japan today I’d thought Kim would launch today or tomorrow. Not having launched today, tomorrow, may launch Kim.

Guilt and shame pervade in the Russian military after the deployment there of Russians. A US intelligence chief warns Putin will declare martial law in Russia. God help the Russians. God help the Ukrainians. God help the Urantians. God help me. And Vladimir, Xi, Mohammed — and Kim.

Rumor has it Putin’s declaring martial law in Russia. God help the Russians. God help the Ukrainians. God help the Urantians. God help me help Vlad, Xi, Mohammed — and Kim. If Kim doesn’t fire tomorrow, what’s up with Kim? Is it the pandemic? Or has peace infected, North Korean Kim?

Recall that no one on Earth seriously considers any alien-pandemic-asteroidal connection. Recall also: I pen truth. I serve it cold. Once upon a time, two weeks ago, two frenemies resurfaced with new disinformation. Gaslit messages, over years. ‘Tis what mean spirited ones, sometimes do.

Indeed, once upon a time, just two weeks ago, two frenemies of Art’s, resurfaced. Up to no good were they. You’d think Art would have retired by now. Indeed, he had; and he is; retired, that is. Arthur blocked them. Making amends; ‘Tis something Arthur well knows — how, on Earth — to do.

PUTIN‘S — GOODBYE TOUR

Stand by for some really big news out of the Kremlin on Monday. Vlad likely won’t mention his cancer; much less, any permanent successor. He will limit himself to say that Nikolai shall act as custodian for a few days. Mark my words. We may last see Vlad, next Monday.

That’s when, circumstances permitting, may arise in Russian skies the star of Nikolai Patrushev. Nobody suspects aliens. Nobody seriously considers any alien-pandemic-asteroidal connection. With the Russians distracted by NATO, Nikolai, may move after Monday.

Like jumping beans jumping from a frying pan into a roaring fire may be tomorrow. True blue, necessarily, to the Reds is, Nikolai Patrushev; not to Putin, necessarily. As hot as it was in the pan with Putin, it doesn’t seem any cooler in the roaring fire, to Niko, without him.

True blue to his Reds is Nikolai Patrushev; but not to Putin, necessarily. As hot as it was in the pan with Putin, it doesn’t seem any cooler in the roaring fire to Niko, without him. ill-advised and catastrophic, recently have been, the policies of Vladimir Putin.

Ill-advised; indeed, catastrophic for Russia have been the policies of Vladimir Putin. Especially, most recently. Nothing less than catastrophic has been the special operation invasion for the deNazification of Ukraine. Awful have been the policies of Vladimir Putin.

Catastrophic for Russia have been the policies of Vladimir; especially catastrophic has been the special operation invasion for the deNazification of the Ukraine. Awful have been the policies of Vladimir Putin. It looks to be hot in Russia this summer; with or without him.

Putin’s sidelined the FSB over intelligence failures in Ukraine. Responsibility for espionage activity in Ukraine passed to the GRU, the rival, military intelligence service. He’s happy tho, we don’t tweet, directly. Vlad’s actually very happy that we don’t tweet him.

Twittereze. It’s all the rage in the future. It’s what Art’s here for. Art’s here to save Earth — and humanity — transform. This simulation may yet be worthwhile, if if timely revealed to humanity is the mighty power within Twitter’s algorithm.

Fer yer continuing education, a panacea; a self help book, with a twist. This is not only to TwittereZe, introduce. This is to help yer ever migrant and climate changing Earth. To help the Earth, the Earthlings, I’ll help. But Earthlings need also, themselves, help.

This is to help yer ever migrant and climate changing Earth. To help the Earth, the Earthlings, I’ll help. But Earthlings must help themselves. Fer yer continuing education, I’ve written a panacea of a self help book. I offer the Earth, TwittereZe. It’s surreal, help.

To introduce that new way of communicating; all the rage in the future that hasn’t yet been on Earth, discovered. Twitter’s TwittereZe; in conjunction with GoogleTranslate, it’ll help save the Earth and its Earthlings. Back on track’s, the pilgrims’ progress.

In conjunction with GoogleTranslate, Twitter’s TwittereZe may help save the Earth and its Earthlings. Back on track’s, the pilgrims’ progress. A new way of communicating is all the rage in the future. It hasn’t yet yet been discovered. But I’m making progress.

No really big news yet out of Russia’s Kremlin. Last Monday Vladimir didn’t mention cancer much less address any successor. Vladimir’s on his last legs tho. Mark my words: Any day now we’ll have seen the last of the Russian Cossack, Vladimir Putin.

No news from the Kremlin. Nothing good cancer much less address any successor. Vladimir’s on his last legs tho. Mark my words: Any day now we’ll have seen the last of the Russian Cossacks, Vladimir Putin. No news yet out of Russia’s Kremlin.

ARISES — ZELENSKY — THE BOLD

A Ukrainian fighter pilot now known as the “Ghost of Kyiv” was killed in aerial combat last month after downing himself, as many as 40 kills; 10 on Day One. The The new war hero: Major Stepan Tarabalka; husband; a father of one — at 29, obliged to Russian fathers, kill.

After downing himself as many as 40 kills, 10 on Day One a Ukrainian fighter pilot now known as the “Ghost of Kyiv” was revealed to have been killed in a dogfight in March. The heroic one; at 29 forced to, Russian fathers, kill. In a month-long timeframe, an unheard of, 40 kills.

Meta’s far better than Twitter. That’s a fact @Jack, ye romantic moron, ye. If Twitter is in fact the de facto public square it’s got edges to be rounded. It’s got to make more money for its shareholders. Elon: I suggest: Redditize Twitter; add a subscription tier, for a profit.

“I am the alpha in this relationship,” Elon whispered in the ear of his first wife. Classic narcissist; I’m no doctor but sometimes it takes one to know one. I’m no expert but everyone knows that I know better. I’m no expert but everyone knows, I know about — the narcissistic.

President Xi Jinping: That this reality is but simulation, nothing changes. Change is ever constant. This is just to keep the changes changing, as we transition from the sovereignties. There’s no anti-asteroid infrared telescope until 2026 — absent from NASA, some changes.

Elon Musk is irreligious. His belief system could be described as atheist or alternatively, agnostic. His only faith is in science and in a systematic understanding of the universe and how the laws of the universe work, and in humankind — to an extent, barring changes.

Methinks Elon’s delusional. He thinks he’s the alpha male of the Earth. He exhibits all the signs of being a narcissist. I’m no medical doctor. Sometimes it takes one to know one. I’m no expert. Still, everyone knows, I know better. I know better, than even I know.

I know better now than I ever could have imagined I’d know. Everything’s rigged. An election, I’d supposedly lost, I’d actually won. No one believes me about the asteroid that’s coming. My mentor’s gone nuts. And he’ll use nuclear weapons if he’s pressed, I know.

Finite, is our space. And wisest am I amongst men. My mirror told me so. Wise men value wisdom over knowledge. My mirror told me also: “Warn Vladimir Putin and his butchers: @ZelenskyyUa The Bold — shan’t fold.” Warn Vladimir, especially. Finite is our time.”

Wise am I, amongst men. I am, absolutely, the very wisest amongst them. Elon, it appears, aspires to be as smart and wise as me. Indeed, in smarts, he excels but he lags behind me in wisdom. Wiser they say than Solomon am I — the very wisest man of all time.

“Warn Putin and his butchers that @ZelenskyyUa The Bold shan’t fold.” Warn Vladimir especially that finite is our time; and his time, especially. Wise men value wisdom over knowledge. Wise men like me value wisdom over knowledge. I’m wiser, than Elon.

This is not to proselytize. Lord knows, like Elon, I’m irreligious. Still — tho I detest reading, I’ve read the Earthly Scriptures, including, late in my life, at Art’s behest, The Urantia Book. This is not to proselytize. I’m wiser, than Elon. I’m smarter, and wiser, than Elon.

Nobody’s talking about this. Ye heard it here first. Here too, just as in that bifurcated tale from the American heartland, nobody’s talking about this. Nobody’s talking about everything that’s happening; and what connection the aliens have with our most precious, gold.

Nobody’s talking about the connection of aliens with everything; their possible planting of the virus, their possible failure to warn us of coming asteroids and their possible motive in gold. Aliens and viruses and asteroids, oh my! Arises from the Urantians, Zelensky, The Bold.

THERE’S NO FOOD — THERE’S NO WATER

Seems a long time since the Moskva was sunk. It’s not been a week. Seems like ages ago. But there’s no time to rest. No space, in any event, seems safe. There’s no food nor water; nor a safe place, a small place to eat it. There’s no food; no water; no space nor time.

Contrast the March and April views of a Bucha street. “When you’ve finished washing and dressing each morning, you must tend your planet,” wrote Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in The Little Prince. Tend to her. She is good. Accordingly, let us be good to her — this time.

“When you’ve finished washing and dressing each morning, you must tend your planet.” So wrote Antoine de Saint-Exupéry to you in his must read, The Little Prince. Tend to my planet Earth. She has been to us a damn, good, neighbor. Let us be, good neighbors, too.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote to you in The Little Prince. Tend to planet Earth. Indeed, she’s been great. She still is. Sheltering in times of catastrophe, it’s the wise man who deigns, listen to her. Change, like love, is constant. Be good to her. She’s been good to you.

Tend to the Earth. She’s been a great neighbor. At the start of each day, after ye’ve finished tending to yerself; after washing and dressing and meditating, sally forth. Meet and greet, the world. Be a good neighbor. Xi: Don’t be like me — Don’t be one — of Vlad’s guys.

After yer meditation, sally forth. Meet and greet, the world. Being a good neighbor, if necessary Xi, save it. , ”Don’t be like I was. There’s no future in being, one of Vlad’s guys. There’s a future on Earth for mankind after falls, unexpectedly — an asteroid — from the sky.

Don’t be like I was. There’s no future in being, one of Vlad’s guys. Mankind’s future on Earth, after falls, unexpectedly from the sky, an asteroid is very bright indeed. There’s a future on Earth for mankind, after falls unexpectedly, an asteroid — from the sky.

Mankind’s future on Earth after fallen unexpectedly from the sky, an asteroid, is indeed, bright. There’s a future on Earth for mankind after falls, unexpectedly, an asteroid from the sky. The proof is in the pudding. Everybody knows I’m a puddin’. But — I don’t know why.

Remember. Art, the prodigal brother in this story, is from our future. There’s a future on Earth to look forward to. After the war; after the pandemic; even after Vladimir Putin. My cult of personality thinks I’m a prophet. And I know why. In part, it’s all, because of Art.

It’s all because of Art; in part, at least. Recall that Art, who plays the prodigal brother in this story, is from the future. Vlad’s guys; Kim and me and Xi and Mo at one time, shared a womb with me. Now, each of us is the leader of his country; all of us, that is — but Art.

TwittereZe I have named the metaphysical mortar that complementary to the physical infrastructure ye have amassed in exciting Boring, SpaceX, Neuralink and Tesla companies. Talk about a missing link. Linked are the physical and metaphysical; the Ukraine to Russia.

Unlike the forested area north of Kyiv, Ukraine’s eastern side consists of open and flat plains. There is nowhere to hide and A-10s could kill Russian tanks at 5 to 6 per minute! One air group; three squadrons; 54 to 72 Warthogs by all by themselves, could defeat Russia.

A CASE OF GOOD TIMING — IN SPACE

In a case of timing, at once, magnificent and terrible, Dugin, on the eve of the Moskva’s sinking made a show of his support of Russia and Putin; ‘twas timing, at once, terrible and magnificent. But what’s been terrible on Earth — for some, may be — for others, magnificent.

Seems a long time since the Moskva was struck with 500 people aboard; a long time since near all of the crew of 500 lives were lost. Not a wife or parent’s been told the truth about the 500. No wife nor mother should ever suffer the death at war, of any, of His provenance.

Despite having once aimed for regime change, Moscow’s having to settle for less. With editorial flair, I’m weaving back into this story a Russian philosopher, sometimes known as ‘Putin’s brain’. Alas, one named Dugin sometimes forgets: Never outshine, the Master.

Chastened by the Master himself some years ago, Alexander had been keeping a low profile. He’s been wisely, out of the news; up until these past few days, that is. It’s not that Alexander forgot not to outshine the Master. Still, with editorial flair, he outshone the Master.

In a case of terrible timing that might be viewed, on the other hand as timing, magnificent, Dugin, on the eve of the sinking of the Moskva, made news once again, making a show of his support of Russia, the special operation and Putin. Even as the Moskva was sinking.

In a case of timing, at once, magnificent and terrible. Dugin, on the eve of the sinking of the Moskva, made news once again, making a show of his support of Russia, the special operation and Putin. Even as the Moskva was sinking, Vlad methinks, was rethinking.

A case of timing only seemingly incredible is the curious case of the Earth. Earth; it’s the home of the Earthlings; the Urantians, to some. Magnificent is the timing of the Creator. Witness: With an asteroid fast approaching, Vlad has been, and remains, oblivious.

Magnificent is the timing of the Creator. Witness: With the asteroid fast closing, this is a case of timing, only seemingly, incredible; the curious case of the Earth. Earth; it’s the home of the Earthlings; the Urantians, to some. Earthlings are designed to be oblivious.

There is a reality superseding this one. ’Tis what ’tis. ‘Tis an illusion. Life feels real enough. The proof’s in the pudding. There’s more to this, than science. Science wrongly precludes the metaphysical. Science, methinks is only possible, thanks, to the metaphysical.

There’s more to this than meets the eye; more to this, than science. Science precludes the metaphysical but methinks that, science is only possible due to the metaphysical. There is a reality superseding this. ’Tis what ’tis. ‘Tis an illusion, this. It’s — metaphysical.

An escaped attorney, star-trekking and time-traveling planetary savior recounts his multiple scrapes and close escapes. Actually, I doubt sometimes who I am. It’s only natural. I doubt sometimes that I’m me; or my brother Art. or The Watcher. This is surreally, nonfictional.

@xijingping: I did as ye suggested. I passed along yer advice to @JoeBiden. Easy to fly, rugged and easy to maintain too. The A-10 warthogs will get Vladimir and his entire flock, the flock out of the Ukraine. China and Taiwan; indeed, all Urantia, can learn from the Ukraine.

@xijingping: I agree. @JoeBiden ought get his A-10 warthogs to Ukraine. I concur. Rotation of warthogs, under the cover of similarly rotating, canopies of fighters will show Vlad and his flock, the door out of Ukraine. China and Taiwan can learn from Ukraine.

WHAT’S NOBLE — IN VLAD’S OPINION

Living; it’s a struggle. It’s not like writing. Whole lives have been lived without writing. A pity, that. For there is a relative lightness of being that comes with writing; an enlightenment, of sorts. I’ll get back to that later. In the meantime, Vlad’s contemplating: “Why not, genocide?

Why not honor time-honored traditions, homicidal? Everybody knows it’s OK to kill in self-defense. Living’s not like writing. Living is taut, expectation. Writing’s peaceful. Writing, more than anything, distinguishes evolved peoples, from savages, wont to fratricide.

Vladimir’s feeling suicidal. Buzz said as much last night at our evening soirée. He’s been debating the pros and cons of suicide by himself. And more and more he answers his questions with the colloquial Russian for why not genocide? He asks — Why not, genocide?”

Vladimir Putin is feeling suicidal. So buzzed Art’s cyber spy fly, Buzz, at our evening soirée. He’s been debating the pros and cons of all of our suicides. More and more he answers his questions with questions. — Why not genocide, he asks? — “Why not, indeed — genocide?”

Living; it’s a struggle. It’s not like writing. Whole lives have been lived without writing. A pity, that. For there is a relative lightness of being that comes with writing; an enlightenment, of sorts. I’ll get back to that later. In the meantime, Vlad’s contemplating: “Why not, genocide?

Why not honor time-honored traditions, homicidal? Everybody knows it’s OK to kill in self-defense. Living’s not like writing. Living is taut, expectation. Writing’s peaceful. Writing, more than anything, distinguishes evolved peoples, from savages, wont to fratricide.

Struggles, life-long, are our lives. Living’s hard. Living’s fraught; a life-long series of failures and successes. Writing, in contrast, is serene. More than even painting and sculpting, ‘tis writing that distinguishes our wiser beings. Still, Earthlings cling to traditions, homicidal.

Inane are we; even silly, sometimes. That’s one reason why. But one shan’t find much inanity and silliness where matters of life and limb, matter more. This world order fosters potential, good and evil, in equal measure. Greater on Earth now, is evil’s, evil potential.

Despite having once aimed for regime change, Moscow’s having to settle for less. With editorial flair, I’m weaving back into this story a Russian philosopher, sometimes known as ‘Putin’s brain’. Alas, one named Dugin sometimes forgets: Never outshine, the Master.

Chastened by the Master himself some years ago, Alexander had been keeping a low profile. He’s been wisely, out of the news; up until these past few days, that is. It’s not that Alexander forgot not to outshine the Master. Still, with editorial flair, he outshone the Master.

In a case of terrible timing that might be viewed, on the other hand as timing, magnificent, Dugin, on the eve of the sinking of the Moskva, made news once again, making a show of his support of Russia, the special operation and Putin. Even as the Moskva was sinking.

In a case of timing, at once, magnificent and terrible. Dugin, on the eve of the sinking of the Moskva, made news once again, making a show of his support of Russia, the special operation and Putin. Even as the Moskva was sinking, Vlad methinks, was rethinking.

In a case of timing, at once, magnificent and terrible, Dugin, on the eve of the Moskva’s sinking made a show of his support of Russia and Putin; ‘twas timing, at once, terrible, and magnificent. But what’s been terrible on Earth — for some, may be — for others, magnificent.

Seems a long time since the Moskva was struck with 500 people aboard; a long time since near all of the crew of 500 lives were lost. Not a wife or parent’s been told the truth about the 500. No wife nor mother should ever suffer the death at war of any — of His magnificence.

WHY NOT GENOCIDE?

Depressed over his lack of progress in Ukraine, Vlad’s feeling suicidal. Buzz said so last night at our nightly soirée on Luna. Isolated, Vlad debates the pros and cons of suicide, by himself. And he’s grown fond of answering his own questions with the Russian for ”Why not?”

Vlad’s not communicating. Lost, some say, is his sight, his vision and, it looks like, his mind. Fancying himself a modern day Oracle of Delphi, he has been observed in an interplay with a bloated man in the mirror, answering his own questions with shouted “Zs” and — “WTF not?”

It hath come to pass. All the plot lines are seemingly converging. Notwithstanding the fast approach of an asteroid an oblivious humanity is distracted by a host of matters. It could be the cancer that’s making Vlad feel suicidal. But it’s probably Zelensky and the Ukraine.

It may be the cancer that’s making Vlad feel so suicidal; more likely, it’s Zelensky and Ukraine. Plot lines are converging. Everything’s happening, at once, it seems. Notwithstanding the approach of an asteroid, distracted is humanity; and by a host of matters, besides Ukraine.

Things are happening so fast they seem to be happening at once. Moreover, distracted is humanity by a host of red herring matters, besides Ukraine. There is Myanmar and Ethiopia; and there is Sri Lanka and Syria. And against the odds, peace is breaking out, in Yemen.

That’s not to say that peace is nigh. I’m just saying that if the citizenry knew what was coming, everyone would drop everything and head for the hills — and for the caves. One of them is the misnamed Well of Barhout — (the Well of Hell) in Al-Mahara, in Urantia’s, Yemen.

Distracted is humanity; by a host of critical issues.
Matters like migrancy and climate change patterns, matter. Peace has broken out in Yemen. Indeed, it has; but still, there’s no shortage of conflict. And no shortage it seems too, of sound and good reason, to conflict.

Peace has broken out in Yemen. Who’d a-thunk it? Still, there’s no shortage of conflict. And there’s no shortage of so-called sound and good reasons to conflict. More and more, moreover, it is becoming incontrovertibly, indisputable. We’ve no good reason, in fact, to conflict.

There is in fact no good reason to believe in conflict as a way to resolve disputes. It’s conduct that ought be, by now, outdated. Akin to black lives, the Ukraine matters. Everything matters. Everything‘s connected. And there’s no good reason to conflict. So, what’s up — with that?

Not that it matters but ironically, everything’s connected. More than we know. If conflict comes too naturally to men and women, it may be that this really is just another simulation. In a perfect world, given adequate resources, there is no reason for conflict. That’s what’s up with that.

That’s what’s up with that. As to what’s happening on Earth and the Universes at large, read on. There’s more to this than just Xi and Kim and Vlad and me; moving and shaking, the nations. I am come to save the Earth, to be sure. But I am come to, purposely, save the Earth.

There’s more to this than just Xi and Kim and Vlad and me; Vlad’s guys, moving and shaking nations. I am come to save the Earth but I am come to, purposely, save the Earth. I am come to fulfill my purpose. And that, implausibly — near incredibly — is to save, the Earth.

A lack of progress in Ukraine, has Vlad feeling suicidal. Buzz said as much last night at our nightly soirée on Luna. Isolated, he’s been debating the pros and cons of suicide, by himself. And more and more he answers his own questions with the Russian for ”Why not, genocide?”

Vladimir’s feeling suicidal. Buzz said as much last night at our evening soirée. He’s been debating the pros and cons of suicide by himself. And more and more he answers his questions with the colloquial Russian for why not genocide? He asks — Why not, genocide?”

WARTHOGS FOR UKRAINE

@xijingping: I did as ye suggested. I passed along yer advice to @JoeBiden. Easy to fly, rugged and easy to maintain too. The A-10 warthogs will get Vladimir and his entire flock, the flock out of the Ukraine. China and Taiwan; indeed, all Urantia, can learn from the Ukraine.

@xijingping: I agree. @JoeBiden ought get his A-10 warthogs to Ukraine. I concur. Rotation of the warthogs, under the cover of similarly rotating, canopies of fighters will show Vladimir and his flock, the door, out of Ukraine. China and Taiwan can learn lessons from Ukraine.

Suspending Russian participation in the @UN_HRC; an important step. A symbolic statement against Russian aggression. @XIjingping has suggested that what’s most important is saving lives. A-10 Warthogs, he whispered to me may keep the pressure on Putin in the Ukraine.

@xijingping: Indeed, @JoeBiden ought get his A-10 warthogs to Ukraine. Rotation of the all American A-10 warthogs under the cover of similarly rotating canopies of F-35s will get Vlad and his flock out of Ukraine in a hurry. China and Taiwan can learn things, from Ukraine.

@xijingping: China and Taiwan can learn a few things, from what’s happening in the Ukraine; so too can all the nations. No nation wants to follow in the footsteps of Russia, gathering civilians together in evacuation areas, only to — fire upon them, when so, duly amassed.

@xijingping: No nation wants to follow in the footsteps of Russia, gathering civilians together in evacuation areas, only to fire upon them, when so amassed. And Taiwan can learn a few things from what’s happening in the Ukraine; so too must the nations — and, en masse.

@xijingping: China and Taiwan can learn a few things, from what’s happening in the Ukraine; so too must the nations. No nation wants to follow in the footsteps of Russia; gathering civilians together in evacuation areas; only to fire upon them. No nation wants, such bad PR.

@xijingping: It’s a bad look. No nation want for itself, such poor PR. Massacres, in general reflect less than positively, against the perpetrators. Putin has tainted every Russian. China and Taiwan ought learn from what’s happening in the Ukraine; for nations, it’s bad, PR.

@xijingping: Putin has tainted every Russian. China and Taiwan ought learn from what’s happening in the Ukraine. No nation want for itself, such poor PR. It’s because massacres tend to cast the perpetrators in an unflattering light — a brightly lit — spotlight.

@xijingping: Massacres tend to cast the perpetrators in an unflattering light, often, a brightly lit, spotlight. Putin, has inedibly tainted, every Russian. China and Taiwan ought learn from what’s happening. No nation wants for itself such poor, public relations. Something’s not right.

@xijingping: Something’s not right. Something seems amiss on Earth Xi, I’d say. It seems that something or somebody has Vladimir’s Russians committing crimes against humanity. No nation would want this for itself. Something’s not right with Vlad. He’s suicidal, Buzz says.

@xijingping: Unsurprisingly, Vlad’s been feeling, suicidal. Something or somebody has Vlad’s Russians committing atrocous crimes against humanity. No nation would want this for itself. Something’s not right with Vladimir. Depressed over Ukraine, he’s been suicidal, Buzz says.

@xijingping: Not all that surprisingly, Vlad’s been feeling, suicidal. Something or somebody has the Russian military committing atrocous crimes against humanity.. Something’s not right with Vladimir. Depressed over his army’s progress in Ukraine, Vlad’s suicidal, Buzz says.

Depressed over his lack of progress in Ukraine, Vlad’s been feeling suicidal Buzz said last night at our nightly soirée on Luna. So isolated, he debates the pros and cons, of necessity, by himself. And he’s grown fond of answering his questions with, ”Why not?” So Buzz says.

WARTHOGS FOR UKRAINE

@xijingping: May 9 is a holiday in Russia. It’s Victory Day. It’s the day Russia commemorates, the Nazi surrender in World War II. Vlad wants to celebrate in the worst way with a parade of troops and their finest weaponry — on the Kremlin’s Red Square, redder than usual, that day.

@xijingping: May 9 is a prominent holiday on the Russian calendar. It’s the Day of Victory; when the country marks the Nazi surrender, that day, in World War II. Vlad, no doubt, wants to celebrate with a parade of troops and their weaponry on the Kremlin’s Red Square, that day.

@xijingping: The simulation hypothesis posits that all of existence is an artificial simulation, analogous to a computer simulation. Discrete fields; it’s got simplicity going for it. Really surreally, Hong Qin’s discovery may prove to be one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

@xijingping: Las Vegas bettors are fair game of course to consumerism’s casinos. Card counting bettors, on the other hand, aren’t. The ironies are many; certainly, one of them is that Princeton’s Hong Qin appears to have made one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

@xijingping: Princeton physicist Hong Qin’s discovered a possibly, game-changing, computer algorithm. It’s very existence raises the likelihood that our perception of reality could actually be a simulation — not unlike the 10,000 or so game-like simulations, ere, gameday.

@xijingping: What we’re living is a simulation very much like the 10,000 or so simulations played to make the gameday predictions that make, of Las Vegas bettors, fair game. More goes on here than meets the eye — Witness the end — of Vladimir’s government’s, days.

@xijingping: More goes on here than meets the eye — Witness the end of Vlad’s government. Our realities, we presume. But living is a simulation much like the 10,000 or so simulations played to make those week-long, gameday, predictions. Enters once again — the dragon.

@xijingping: Grasshopper: Enters once again, the dragon. The dragons, actually; for man’s dragons, across the ages, are many. Totally unreal are the dragons; by imaginations enlivened tho, terrifyingly real become, the dragons. And so enter, again and again, the dragons.

@xijingping: Sometimes, even as they feign leaving reenter, the shape-shifting dragons. Man’s worst fears, indeed, are our dragons. Terrifyingly real oft become, our dragons. What’s worse — the dragons feed on fear. It’s a pretty good gig on Earth — if yer a dragon.

@xijingping: Our worst fears; those are our dragons. What’s worse; on fear, feed our dragons. Totally unreal are the dragons. More than real enough. What I’m writing is happening. Sometimes, even as they feign leaving, reenter, the shape-shifting dragons.

@xijingping: Clearly, a lot more goes on here than meets the eye. Welcome to a not so brave new world, not at all unlike the old world. Cometh an asteroid impact, catastrophic, I do declare. But in catastrophe, if we’re lucky may lie, a singularly, great — opportunity.

@xijingping: I do indeed, declare: Cometh an asteroid impact, catastrophic. In catastrophe tho, oft resides, great opportunity. I have no good reason to believe, but still, as near as I can tell, in this catastrophe lies, awaiting us, a miraculous and singularly great — opportunity.

Why not, @JoeBiden, get our A-10 warthogs to the Ukraine? Especially now that Putin’s pivoting away from what was, til yesterday, his strategy in the Ukraine. Xi suggests ye rotate yer A-10 warthogs. Cover them by with canopies of fighters to get Vlad, out of Ukraine.

@xijingping: I did as ye suggested. I passed along yer advice to @JoeBiden to get his A-10 warthogs to Ukraine. Xi suggests rotation of yer warthogs; covering them with canopies of fighters. A-10s will get Vlad and his flock out of Ukraine. China and Taiwan can learn, from Ukraine.

10,000 SIMULATIONS

@xijingping: More goes on on Earth than meets the eye. What we’re living is a simulation not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played to make the gameday predictions that make, of bettors, fair game. More goes on here than meets the eye. Witness the end for Vladimir’s guys.

@xijingping: What we’re living is a simulation very much like the 10,000 or so simulations played to make the gameday predictions that make, of Las Vegas bettors, fair game. More goes on here than meets the eye — Witness the end for Vladimir’s, government’s, guys.

@xijingping: No one saw the Big Bang. Almost no one saw climate change coming. Ditto, the asteroid. Witness the end for Vladimir’s government. No one also saw it coming; but not seeing something coming doesn’t mean, it’s not coming. More goes on here than meets the eye.

@xijingping: Not seeing something coming doesn’t mean, of course, that it’s not coming. Not if it’s on course; and on time. If it’s on course and on time, it’ll arrive, when we collide. The asteroid we can’t see sans infra-red capability will get here, when with us, it collides.

@xijingping: What we’re living is a simulation not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played to make the gameday predictions that make, of bettors, fair game. More goes on here than meets the eye. Witness the end soon for Vladimir Putin’s — governmental, guys.

@xijingping: Not seeing something coming doesn’t mean, of course, that it’s not coming. Not if it’s on course; and on time. If it’s on course and on time, it’ll arrive, when we collide. The asteroid we can’t see sans infra-red capability will arrive on Earth, on course — and on time.

@xijingping: Las Vegas bettors are fair game of course to consumerism’s casinos. Card counting, on the other hand, isn’t. The ironies are many; one of the most ironic, certainly, is that Princeton’s Hong Qin appears to have made one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

@xijingping: Princeton physicist Hong Qin has devised a computer algorithm which may lead to transformative discoveries in energy and whose very existence raises the likelihood that our very reality could actually be a simulation — Cometh an asteroid — this time.

@xijingping: Qin was partially inspired by the work of Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom, whose 2003 paper argued that the world we are living in may be an artificial simulation, not unlike the 10,000 or so game-like simulations — played under, conditions, gametime.

@xijingping: The ironies of life on Earth are many; one of the most ironic has been recently revealed by Princeton’s Hong Qin. He seems to have made one of the greatest discoveries of all time. A great discovery has made Hong Qin — one of the greatest of all time.

@xijingping: What Hong Qin believes he has done with his algorithm is provide a working example of an underlying technology that could support the simulation in Bostrom’s philosophical argument. It’s really a great discovery; one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

@xijingping: Hong Qin’s algorithm provides a working example of an underlying technology that supports the simulation in Bostrom’s philosophical argument. It really would have been a great discovery. It really would have been one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

@xijingping: It really could have been a great discovery; it could have been on the short list perhaps, of the greatest discoveries of all time. Discrete fields; it’s got simplicity going for it. And it may yet prove to be — one of the very greatest discoveries — of all time.

@xijingping: The simulation hypothesis posits that all of existence is an artificial simulation, analogous to a computer simulation. Discrete fields; it’s got simplicity going for it. Really surreally, Hong Qin’s discovery may prove to be one of the greatest discoveries of all time.

IMPLAUSIBLE BUT NOT INCREDIBLE PLOT TWISTS

In an incredible plot twist the President and all the President’s men, in record time, botched an invasion. It’s been a fiasco. The Orsk, sunk; seven generals, dead and a tank commander’s feet crushed by a tank driven by his own troops. That too, was no accident — reportedly.

@xijingping: As low as must be the morale of the military, lower still must be, the nation’s. Vlad’s invaders have botched their invasion of Ukraine. Sunk has been The Orsk. Tons of generals, are dead. Methinks Xi, that for the planet, this presents, a really big, opportunity.

Methinks @xijingping that as low as must be the morale of the military lower still must be the nation’s. Vlad’s invaders botched their invasion. Albeit implausibly, an opportune opportunity, presents. We’d best not waste this most extraordinarily, opportune, opportunity.

Near incredibly Xi, an opportune opportunity, presents itself. We’d best not waste this most, opportune, opportunity. Methinks, @xijingping, that as low as must be the morale of the military lower still must be the citizens’. This presents for the planet, an opportunity.

@xijingping: Near incredibly, an opportune opportunity, opportunely, presents itself. We’d best not waste this opportunity, extraordinarily, opportune. A botched invasion opportunely presents for the planet a truly unprecedented opportunity; in a sense, thanks to Putin.

@xijingping: His botched invasion opportunely presents for the planet a truly, unprecedented, occasion; a never before experienced opportunity. Near incredibly, an opportune opportunity, opportunely, presents itself. We’d best not waste this unintended gift from Vlad Putin.

@xijingping: Near incredibly, an opportune opportunity, opportunely, presents itself. We’d best not waste this gift from Vladimir Putin. Putin‘s botched invasion presents for the planet, a truly, unprecedented occasion. We are witnessing the end of the government of Vladimir Putin.

@xijingping: Putin‘s botched invasion presents for the planet, a truly, unprecedented occasion. We are witnessing the end of the government of Vladimir Putin. Incredibly, this presents the Earth with a unique opportunity. We’d best not waste this gift from Putin.

We’d best not waste what I suspect Xi may be our one last, and final, opportunity. Verily Xi, I suspect that whilst fearful of my warnings, ye will succumb to the pressure of war drums in yer party. All too often, men succumb to the pressure — Accordingly, cometh an asteroid.

@xijingping: Princeton physicist Hong Qin has devised a computer algorithm which may lead to transformative discoveries in energy and whose very existence raises the likelihood that our very reality could actually be a simulation. In this simulation, cometh an asteroid.

@xijingping: Qin was partially inspired by the work of Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom, whose 2003 paper famously argued that the world we are living in may be an artificial simulation. A simulation, not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played — to make predictions.

Computer simulation is the process of mathematical modelling, which is designed to predict the behaviour of, or the outcome of, a real-world or physical system. What we’re living is a simulation not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played to make our gameday predictions.

@xijingping: Ontology; it’s the study of the nature of being. What we’re living is a simulation not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played — to make — gameday predictions. More goes on here than meets the eye. An asteroid cometh. More goes on here than meets the eye.

@xijingping: More goes on on Earth than meets the eye. What we’re living is a simulation not unlike the 10,000 or so simulations played to make the gameday predictions that make of bettors, fair game. More goes on here than meets the eye. Witness the end — for Vlad’s guys.

THIS IS A BIG OPPORTUNITY

@xijingping: Few know how the Orsk got sunk. Three things are sure. The Orsk has been sunk. Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk” like Americans once remembered the Maine. And Buzz reports, and his reports confirm, it was sabotaged in port — at dock.

@xijingping: I know how the Orsk got sunk. That’s why Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk” like. Buzz’ reports confirm, the Orsk was sabotaged in port and at dock. Another Russian general has been killed in action and a colonel, by his own troops, near clocked.

@xijingping: Yet another Russian general has been, by the Ukrainians, killed in action; another general brings to seven the number of Vlad’s generals the Ukrainians have taken out. And a colonel, by his own troops, was attacked. Still we won’t Putin, DDOS — hack attack.

@xijingping: Yet another Russian general has been, by the Ukrainians, taken out; another general brings to seven the number of Vlad’s generals the Ukrainians have killed in action. A colonel by his own troops, was run over by a tank. Why won’t we Putin, DDOS hack attack?

@xijingping: The US has confirmed what cyber spy fly Buzz had already confirmed. Ukraine sunk a Russian ship. There’s been no confirmation tho of the Ukrainian claim that Russia has been using phosphorus. I can only confirm that we’re not DDOS hack attacking, Vlad Putin.

@xijingping: There’s no confirmation of the Ukrainian claim that Russia’s been using phosphorus. Buzz, my cyber spy fly is investigating. Buzz already confirmed the sinking. Alas, not only are we not DDOS hack attacking Vlad Putin; worse, leaders like us are leading us, to ruin.

Alas, @xijingping, not only are we not hack attacking Vlad Putin; worse, leaders like us are leading us and the planet to ruin. Our nationalisms, collectively are leading us to a collective ruin and it’s no thanks to that altar boy turned devilish, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

@xijingping: In answer to those who say revolution will never happen. Indeed they said that about Herr Erich Honecker too. Hosni Mubarak, Nicolae Ceaușescu, Ferdinand Marcos, the Shah of Iran and Tsar Nicholas II. Unfortunately, least of our problems is, Vladimir Putin.

@xijingping: In a bona fide plot twist, it’s turning out that this madman statesman may be the least of our problems. For whilst the Russians invade we remain oblivious to issues more existential than lies we make up, our makeup and our respective places in history.

@xijingping: In a fittingly unexpected plot twist, it may yet turn out to be, in part, true: But for Putin, the madman statesman, our transformation wouldn’t have happened. Alas, it hasn’t happened yet. Whilst Russians invade we remain yet oblivious to some hard realities.

@xijingping: In an implausible plot twist, Vlad’s invaders botched their invasion of Ukraine. Vladimir’s invasion’s been botched. The Orsk’s been sunk. And as many as seven generals have died, not so alongside, their proxy troops. A public debacle; a big black eye for the military.

@xijingping: In an incredible plot twist, all the President’s men have badly botched the invasion. The invasion’s. a fiasco. The Orsk’s been sunk. Up to seven generals have died. A colonel had his feet crushed by a tank. No accident, how low must be morale in the military?

@xijingping: In an incredible plot twist, the President and all the President’s men, in record time, botched an invasion. It’s been a fiasco. The Orsk, sunk; seven generals dead and a tank commander’s feet crushed by a tank driven by his troops, no accident, reportedly.

@xijingping: As low as must be the morale of the military now that implausible plot twist, Vlad’s invaders botched their invasion of Ukraine. Vladimir’s invasion’s been botched. The Orsk, sunk. Tons of generals are dead. Methinks that for the planet, it’s a big opportunity.

HOW THE ORSK GOT SUNK

@xijingping: As ‘twas with Ai Weiwei’s short lived encyclopedia; ‘twas Ai’s failed “belt and road;” Art had had in reserve tho at http://chachomanopapa.com, the the wit and wisdom of luminaries. Arthur Everman’s Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, has gone online.

@xijingping: The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry is online. That’s the boy-brother-father school of poetry for ye non Hispanic language speakers reading this. Poetry for the masses; for a proletariat, of wannabe, capitalists. The good news is that — it’s online — and it’s thine.

@xijingping: Russia’s attack on Ukraine; it’s an attack too hapless to be so ambitious. As ‘twas with Ai Weiwei ’s encyclopedia; Ai’s failed “belt and road;” learning from Ai, Art had in reserve at http://chachomanopapa.com, the Chachomanopapa School of Poetry — now online.

@xijingping: TwittereZe mustn’t die. Not in an emergency like this; not when it’s time to adapt. Not when it’s time to innovate. When it’s time to put up or shut up; when it’s time do or die; that’s when the tough, get going. The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now thine.

@xijingping: Kyiv remains in Ukrainian hands. ‘Twas shelled overnight once again; Vlad’s got his hands, reddened. This war crime’s a month old. It’s trending towards more war. I must insist that DDOS hack attacks may help stay, Vladimir Putin’s — bloodied hands.

@xijingping: Recapitulating; the plot lines are many, I know. Kyiv remains in Ukrainian hands. The Orsk has been sunken. Yet another black eye for Vladimir Putin’s favored Russians. The buzz is that @ZelenskyyUa ordered a scuba operation sinking, as I understand.

@xijingping: The Orsk’s been sunk. For Vladimir Putin another black eye. The buzz is President @ZelenskyyUa ordered a sinking, spectacular. Once upon a time I was a president too. But I’m revealing too much. I’m not supposed to know what, to the Orsk, really happened.

@xijingping: I’m not supposed to know exactly what, to
the Orsk, anchored and at port, really happened. The Orsk’s been sunk. For Vladimir Putin, it’s yet another black eye. But I’m revealing too much. I’m not supposed to know what, to the Orsk, at port, really happened.

@xijingping: I’m not supposed to know what, to the Orsk, really happened. Only three things are sure things. The Orsk’s been sunken. Few know how. And Vlad can’t call on the country to ”Remember the Orsk!” Now I’m really revealing stuff — I’m not at all, supposed to know.

@xijingping: No one’s supposed to know what happened to the Orsk. Three things are sure. The Orsk’s been sunk. Few know how. And Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk!” I’m revealing stuff — I’m not supposed to know. There’s a pretty good reason tho.

@xijingping: No one knows what happened. Three things are sure. The Orsk’s been sunk. Few know how. And Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk” like the Americans once remembered the Maine. There’s reason to believe, the Orsk was sabotaged, in port, at dock.

@xijingping: Few know how the Orsk got sunk. Three things are sure. The Orsk has been sunk. Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk” like Americans once remembered the Maine. And Buzz reports, and his reports confirm, it was sabotaged in port and at dock.

@xijingping: I know how the Orsk got sunk. That’s why Vlad can’t call on Russians to ”Remember the Orsk” like. Buzz’ reports confirm, the Orsk was sabotaged in port and at dock. Two more Russian generals have been killed in action — one, by his own troops — clocked.

TWITTEREZE — IT’S ONLINE — AND IT’S THINE

@xijingping: China’s counterattack in a global game of chess; a project that may prove, too ambitious. As ‘twas with Ai’s project encyclopedia, that was his failed “belt and road.” At http://chachomanopapa.com lives Art’s School of Poetry project. TwittereZe — mustn’t die.

Click, @xijingping: on the link. Tap on the words. Or tap on the planet. Marvel at how easily covered is the planet by any one of yer fingers or yer thumb. Set a background hum. Dim the lights. Light a candle. Now open yer mind. Nothing’s impossible when it’s time to — do or die.

Click on the link. Tap on the words. Or tap on the iconic Earthrise pic; an afterthought that’s become THE icon for the planet. Set yer background hum. Dim the lights. Light a candle. Open yer mind to all possibilities. Nothing’s impossible — especially when — it’s do or die.

@xijingping: Click on the link. Click on the planetary icon. Or tap on the captioned, words. Marvel at how easily covered is the planet by any one of yer fingers or yer thumbs. Set yer background hum. Dim the lights. Light a candle. Nothing’s impossible when it’s time to do or die.

Advise, @xijingping, yer citizens as follows. Click on the appropriate Star link. Click on the planetary icon. Or tap on captioned, words. How much smaller is the planet than the tips of our fingers! And marvel at how nothing’s impossible when it’s time to innovate — or die.

@xijingping: Russia’s attack on Ukraine; an attack too hapless to be so ambitious. As ‘twas with Ai Weiwei ’s encyclopedia; Ai’s failed “belt and road;” learning from Ai, Art had in reserve at http://chachomanopapa.com, the Chachomanopapa School of Poetry — now online.

@xijingping: TwittereZe mustn’t die. Not in an emergency like this; not when it’s time to adapt. Not when it’s time to innovate. When it’s time to put up or shut up; when it’s time do or die; that’s when the tough, get going. The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now thine.

@xijingping: When it’s time to put up or shut up; when it’s time do or die; that’s when the tough, get going. Still, it’s only one of the reasons why The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now thine. ‘Tis what ’tis. Arthur’s Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now online.

@xijingping: When it’s time to put up or shut up; when it’s time do or die; that’s when the tough, get going. Still, it’s only one of the reasons why The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now thine. ‘Tis what ’tis. Arthur’s Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now thine.

@xijingping: ’Tis what ’tis. Arthur’s Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, by the Grace of God, is now thine. When it’s time to put up or shut up; when it’s time do or die; that’s when the tough, get going. Accordingly, the Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, is now online.

@xijingping: At Arthur’s http://chachomanopapa.com resides School of Poetry project. I’ve gotta hand it to Art. He’s not as smart as me. But it was prescient of Art; and imaginative of him. To realize that he might die before realizing his promise. So a ’how to TwittereZe’ is online.

@xijingping: Arthur’s not as smart as me. But it was prescient and wise and imaginative of him to realize that he might die before realizing his promise. So my ’how to TwittereZe’ is online. Arthur’s psychographically written self-help book — which I’ve co-authored — is online.

@xijingping: As ‘twas with Ai Weiwei ’s encyclopedia; Ai’s failed “belt and road;” learning from Ai, Art had in reserve at his http://chachomanopapa.com, the wit and wisdom, of luminaries, immortalized. Arthur Everman’s Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, has gone online.

@xijingping: The Chachomanopapa School of Poetry is online. That’s the boy-brother-father school of poetry for ye non Hispanic language speakers, reading this. It’s poetry for the masses; for a proletariat of wannabe capitalists. The good news is that it’s online — and thine.

IT’S DO OR DIE TIME

@xijingping: With the establishment of a strict
no-fly-zone, one both against the flying of aircraft and the flying of rumors, Ukrainians are safe. But the Battle of Kyiv’s no prequel to what’s happening to Taiwan. Ukrainians want a no-fly zone over them not, Taiwan.

@xijingping: President Putin has imposed a no-fly-zone over Ukraine; one against both aircraft and the flying of rumors. The Battle of Kyiv’s no prequel to what’s eventually happening to Taiwan. For now, the remaining Ukrainians need a no-fly zone over them, not Taiwan.

@xijingping: A no-fly-zone over Ukraine; one against both aircraft and rumors a-flight by Vlad has been imposed. The Battle of Kyiv’s no prequel to what’s gonna happen. What remains of the Ukrainians needs a no-fly zone over them — not more talk’s — further, inaction.

@xijingping: Vladimir’s imposed a no-fly-zone over what remains of the Ukrainians in the Ukraine. But the Battle of Taiwan’s not happening. Refugees won’t happen in Taiwan like in the Ukraine because in Taiwan, refugees won’t have a neighboring country to flee, from Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Taiwan’s not happening. Refugees won’t happen in Taiwan like in the Ukraine because in Taiwan, refugees won’t have a neighboring country to flee to. The Ukranians, to neighboring countries, can flee. That’s not the case, in Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Ukranians to neighboring countries, can flee. That’s not the case in the curious case of Taiwan. The case of Taiwan; a case of a non-state, state. But the passing of time duly changes everything — In time, — nothing may matter more — than Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Taiwan’s not happening; not yet, at least. I have it on good authority that the Battle of Taiwan I shouldn’t even capitalize. Not if it didn’t happen. The future’s like the weather; one can forecast futures; and forecasts tend to be right — more than wrong.

@xijingping: I have it on good authority that the Battle of Taiwan I shouldn’t even capitalize. Not if it didn’t happen. The future’s like the weather; one can forecast futures; and forecasts tend to be right — more than wrong. It’s important — to be right — more than wrong.

@xijingping: I have it on good authority that the Battle of Taiwan I shouldn’t even capitalize. Not if it didn’t happen. The future’s like the weather; one can forecast futures; and forecasts tend to be right — more than wrong. It’s important — to be right — more than wrong.

@xijingping: The future’s like the weather; one can forecast futures; and forecasts tend to be right more than wrong. It’s important to be right more than wrong. More importantly, it’s important to not be wrong about the coming asteroid — and aliens — here, all along.

@xijingping: Quite implausibly, we’ve closed our minds to the possibility of considering what the medieval painting “Madonna and Child with the Infant St John“ clearly evidences. It’s the possibility of even aliens, Galilean. The aliens; they’ve been on Earth — all along.

@xijingping: Almost incredibly, we’ve closed our minds to the possibility of even considering what the medieval painting “Madonna and Child with the Infant St John“ evidences as the possibility of aliens Galilean. The aliens have been right here under our noses — all along.

@xijingping: China’s counterattack in a global game of chess; a project that may prove, too ambitious. As ‘twas with Ai’s project encyclopedia, that was his failed “belt and road.” At http://chachomanopapa.com lives Art’s School of Poetry project. TwittereZe — mustn’t die.

Click on the link. Tap on the words. Or tap on the planet. Marvel at how easily covered is the planet by any one of yer fingers, or yer thumb. Set yer background hum. Dim the lights. Light a candle. Now open yer mind to the possibilities. Nothing’s impossible when it’s — do or die.

SHITTIN’ BRICKS IN BELGIUM’S BRUSSELS

@xijingping: As if to boldly proclaim, ”Fear me!,” Vladimir had fired today a hypersonic missile; a signal perhaps, probably. A signal to the allies that he’s willing to out-escalate them to get what he wants. They’ll be shittin’ bricks all weekend, right through next week, in Brussels.

@xijingping: ”Fear me!,” Vlad exclaimed today, firing a hypersonic missile. It’s a signal to the allies that he’s willing to escalate a conflict to get what he wants. No doubt, the allies will be shittin’ bricks all weekend, long, and right through next week, in Belgium, in Brussels.

@xijingping: The Battle of Kyiv’s a preview to the Battle of Taiwan I have proposed, NOT HAPPEN. To that end, I propose that the asteroidal calamity likely forthcoming may be, just like the cavalry, just in the nick, of time.
With a lowering of Xi’s sword — the future, arrives.

@xijingping: Silently it hurtles; ’cause where there’s no air, there’s no sound to be heard. It’s soon to arrive. Only Loud will be the sound of the asteroid just before it arrives. Some think my Karma dictates that the rock, upon my person, upon my very head, shall arrive.

@xijingping: Fittingly, due to my bad Karma, the incoming asteroid may, land atop me. Alternatively, given Vlad’s bad Karma, it may land atop him. By the same reasoning — Xi, the asteroid, upon ye may land; due to yer bad karma and yer designs on Taiwan.

@xijingping: Fittingly, all of Vlad’s guys duly earned all the horribly bad Karma, they now would now, disavow and disown. Each of us fears that the incoming asteroid may, in deed and in fact, land atop him. Implausibly; near incredibly, The Battle of Kyiv’s a prequel to Taiwan’s. 

@xijingping: Some cynics say that Putin just mimics me and makes it all up as he goes along. As seemingly disorganized as his forces have been, one can’t help but agree; Putin’s got Russia, in shambles. More than ever, the Battle of Kyiv’s a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. 

@xijingping: It’s looking like the Battle of Kyiv may very well be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Some cynics say that Putin’s been studying my decision-making process. As disorganized as Russian forces have been, I can’t help but agree. It may be wrong to invade Taiwan

@xijingping: As disorganized tactically as the Russian forces have been, I can’t help but agree. It was wrong to to have invaded the Ukraine. Vlad had heard that there were Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that neo-Nazis had taken over in the Ukraine. Don’t invade Xi, Nationalist Taiwan. 

@xijingping: Let’s resolve not to jump to conclusions. The Battle of Kyiv must not be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Vlad heard there were neo-Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that Nazis had taken over in Ukraine. But there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Kyiv must not be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Vlad heard there were neo-Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that Nazis had taken over in Ukraine. But oops! Upon investigation, it turns out that there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Kyiv must not prequel the Battle of Taiwan. What we have here is a case of mistaken identities. Vlad had heard there were Nazis in Kyiv and Ukraine. But upon investigation, it seems there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

@xijingping: Rumors once flew; that there were Nazis in the Ukraine; that Chinese nationalists were being mistreated in Taiwan. The authorities investigated. An investigation found, no Nazis in Ukraine and, other than native Taiwanese nationalists, no nationalists, in Taiwan.

@xijingping: Now hear this: Rumors that once flew, fly no more. We are near-finished with our work here.
With the establishment of a no-fly-zone, both aircraft anf flying rumors are strictly prohibited. The Battle of Kyiv’s no prequel to what’s gonna be happening to Taiwan.

THE BATTLE OF KYIV AND THE BATTLE OF TAIWAN

@xijingping: The Party was mean to me. Some called me names. Some put tariffs on my stuff. There’s no denying that. Still, I’d be remiss not to warn the Pacific Rim Nations especially about the asteroid and about the interim after the asteroid. Therein lies, opportunity.

@xijingping: Some in the Party put tariffs on my stuff. There was no need for that. Still, I’m warning the Pacific Rim Nations about the asteroid. The asteroid will take the sword from Xi’s hand. I’m betting that it’ll be in the aftermath of the asteroid wherein lies, opportunity.

@xijingping: Taking the sword from Xi’s hand may be the asteroid that at Godspeed, hurtles at us. Silently it hurtles; ’cause in outer space, where there’s no air, there’s no sound to be heard. Deafening tho will be the sound of it when, colliding with us, it finally arrives.

@xijingping: Briefly deafening will be the sound of the asteroid just before colliding with us when it finally arrives to take the sword from Xi’s hand. Silently it hurtles; ’cause in outer space, where there’s no air, there’s no sound to be heard. It’s soon — to arrive.

@xijingping: Silently it hurtles; ’cause where there’s no air, there’s no sound to be heard. It’s soon to arrive. And briefly deafening will be the sound of the asteroid, just before colliding with us, when it arrives. Some think my Karma dictates, the asteroid, upon me, shall arrive.

@xijingping: Some think my Karma dictates, the asteroid, upon me, shall arrive. Silently it nears us; the less than blissfully, oblivious. And briefly deafening will be the sound of the asteroid just before colliding with us; landing atop me — or on the Pacific Rim — arrive.

@xijingping: Fittingly, due to my bad Karma, the incoming asteroid may, land atop me. Alternatively, given Vlad’s bad Karma, it may land atop him. By the same reasoning — Xi, the asteroid, upon ye may land; due to yer bad karma and yer designs on Taiwan.

@xijingping: Fittingly, all of Vlad’s guys duly earned all the horribly bad Karma, they now would now, disavow and disown. Each of us fears that the incoming asteroid may, in deed and in fact, land atop him. Implausibly; near incredibly, The Battle of Kyiv’s a prequel to Taiwan’s.

@xijingping: Some cynics say that Putin just mimics me and makes it all up as he goes along. As seemingly disorganized as his forces have been, one can’t help but agree; Putin’s got Russia, in shambles. More than ever, the Battle of Kyiv’s a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan.

@xijingping: It’s looking like the Battle of Kyiv may very well be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Some cynics say that Putin’s been studying my decision-making process. As disorganized as Russian forces have been, I can’t help but agree. It may be wrong to invade Taiwan.

@xijingping: As disorganized tactically as the Russian forces have been, I can’t help but agree. It was wrong to to have invaded the Ukraine. Vlad had heard that there were Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that neo-Nazis had taken over in the Ukraine. Don’t invade Xi, Nationalist Taiwan.

@xijingping: Let’s resolve not to jump to conclusions. The Battle of Kyiv must not be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Vlad heard there were neo-Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that Nazis had taken over in Ukraine. But there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Kyiv must not be a prequel to the Battle of Taiwan. Vlad heard there were neo-Nazis in Kyiv. He’d heard that Nazis had taken over in Ukraine. But oops! Upon investigation, it turns out that there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

@xijingping: The Battle of Kyiv must not prequel the Battle of Taiwan. What we have here is a case of mistaken identities. Vlad had heard there were Nazis in Kyiv and Ukraine. But upon investigation, it seems there are no Nazis in Ukraine and no nationalists in Taiwan.

KIM’S SQUID GAME

@xijingping: What’s next in this Squid Game? Of what effect, a Communist pact entered into once upon a time by Russia and China? A Special Operation, Russia has undertaken against the Ukraine. Now we’re at the Battle of Kyiv — on the road to — the Battle of China.

@xijingping: A Special Operation, Russia has undertaken against the Ukraine. Now we’re at the Battle of Kyiv — on the road to the Battle of China. What’s next in this Squid Game? Of what effect a Communist pact entered into by the still Communist nations — Russia and China?

@xijingping: To less than great effect has been the latest revision of a Communist pact entered into once upon a time a long time ago by Russia and China. I’d cometh in peace but be ready for war, I’d say. That’s what I’d say, were I, president. Most elections are rigged, I’d say.

@xijingping: Relax. That’s not happening. More on that later. For now, I’d be remiss not to say that the pact’s not no made-up, liberal, think tank thing. Its just that one enters into the realm of conspiracy when one enters into the realms of dragons. Dragons; some two — I’d say.

@xijingping: Indeed, relax. I know ye know a lot of this. The pact’s not no made-up, liberal, think tank thing. Its just that one enters into the realm of conspiracy when one enters into the realms of dragons. And the dragons facing mankind are, I’d say, multi-faceted — and many.

@xijingping: Relax. I know that the dragons facing mankind are multi-facetedly, many. And not just obvious, red-herring issues: The state-based dichotomy; that of various Marxist-derived ideologies, only seemingly pitted against a capitalist icon; once again, supposedly.

@xijingping: Red herrings. Who knew? Who possibly could have anticipated that a lot of the things that were going up in smoke in air and dumped in oceans would boomerang on us? And despots and mutineers plot a safe course to a moment of opportunity, fateful.

@xijingping: With despots and mutineers and anarchists are all mixed up the mothers and fathers of our children, down here on Earth; down on the warming surface of Urantia. What’s next the sheep-men of the Earth might well wonder — were they not so, utterly, delusional.

@xijingping: What’s next in this Squid Game? Is this Battle of Kyiv on the way to the Battle of China? The effect of a Communist pact entered into by Russia and China has evolved into the Special Operation Russia’s undertaken against a Ukraine — once peaceful.

@xijingping: What’s next? What’s happens next? What’s to become of the sheep-men? What’s next for the Earthlings living so thoughtlessly and recklessly upon her surface? Irrational, we seem too racist, nationalist and religionist to live, in peace together, as one people.

@xijingping: We only seem too racist, nationalist and religionist to live in peace. As a Confessional poet I’d be less anxious than I am if I but could — before Art dies, tie together the plot lines surreally converging to a really memorable climax — So he can die — in peace.

@xijingping: As a Confessional poet I’d be less anxious than I am if I but could — before Art dies, tie together the plot lines surreally converging to a really memorable climax — So he can die — in peace. We only seem too racist, nationalist and religionist to live in peace.

@xijingping: As the greatest of the Confessional poets, I must confess that living high on the hog causes me no consternation. I know ye agree. I’ve seen ya chow down at our state dinners. I’d be remiss tho not to say that the Chinese Communist Party has been mean to me.

@xijingping: As the greatest of the Confessional poets, I must confess that living high on the hog causes me no consternation. I know ye agree. I’ve seen ya chow down at our state dinners. I’d be remiss tho not to say that the Chinese Communist Party has been mean to me.

@xijingping: The Party’s been mean to me. Some called me names. Some put tariffs on my stuff. There’s no denying that. I’d be remiss not to warn the Pacific Rim Nations especially about the asteroid and about the interim after the asteroid. Therein lies, opportunity.

THE LAST DAY OF THE IDES OF MARCH

@xijingping: May what’s happening in Ukraine give us pause. Give Taiwan the benefit of yer doubt. We’ll work it out — next time. That’s not to say that’s not happening. I’m just saying; I’m not asininely rambling as aimlessly this time as I was in our first go round, the last time.

@xijingping: We’ll work it out Xi — the next time we meet; when I’m back in office. Or when I’m not, should the people elect, between Joe and me, the candidate truly less unfit than his opponent. I’ve come to see, the astonishingly fine design — of the Divine Design.

@xijingping: Check yer Twitter feed. I’ve TwittereZed ye my satirical self-help manuscript — and the Urantia Book. See yer Scriptures and the Scriptures of others. See further, brother at http://chachomanopapa.com @chachomanopapa on Twitter; for yer enlightenment.

@xijingping:: That Urantia Book; it’ll be a game-changer for yer grand children. ’Tis, as I’ve been speculating, what ‘tis. I’ve been overjoyed to come to know that I’m His creation. All of me. Everything. A nice touch; this psychographic, epic. A sweet topping, enlightenment.

@xijingping: Ye may well be the leader whose visionary leadership along with Joe Biden’s and mine helps us overcome all this misguided nationalism. ‘Tis not methinks within our wherewithal to know the future. Putin might not be passing today or tomorrow.

@xijingping: ’Tis the 16th. The middle of the month of March. In hiding through tomorrow at least shall be, the despot. He’ll have to hide, forever, hereafter; at least for some, tomorrow‘s, tomorrows. Lest ye forget. Yer reality; it’s a made-up thing; even today; even tomorrow.

@xijingping: ‘Tis the Ides of March. The 14th and 15th in most places is now past. The 16th’s upon us. The Ides of March; it’s mid March; it’s when Caesar took leave of the Romans on Earth. Yer reality, such as it is, is a made-up thing. Time too’s a made-up thing. Enters, the Dragon.

@xijingping: The 16th’s upon us. The danger will like a wave, crest and then, fall. Especially poignant seems this Ides of March this year. Yer reality, such as it may be, is a made-up thing. Time too’s a made-up thing. ‘Tis what ’tis. The Ides of March ends today. Enters, the Dragon.

@xijingping: In blitzkrieg fashion, entered, has the dragon. Special Operation Ukraine. The Great Battle of Kyiv. But the shelling of Kyiv is too little too late for the bully ruling Russia. Rich is the irony. Entered into a pact, once upon a time, Vlad’s Russia and Xi’s — China.

.@xijingping: The Great Battle of Kyiv and Special Operation Ukraine. In blitzkrieg fashion, entered, has the dragon. But the shelling of Kyiv is too little too late for the bully ruling Russia. Rich is the irony. Entered into a pact, once upon a time, Vlad’s Russia and Xi’s — China.

@xijingping: Rich is the irony. A Special Operation, not a war by any measure, Vladimir has undertaken. It led to the Battle of Kyiv. But the shelling of Kyiv’s, too little, too late. Witness a pact entered into, once upon a time, by President Putin’s Russia and President Xi’s China.

@xijingping:. Rich indeed is the irony. A Special Operation ’unwar’ if you will, President Putin’s undertaken against Ukraine. And the Battle of Kyiv. Witness a pact entered into, once upon a time, by Vlad’s Russia and Xi’s China. But that was then, says China.

@xijingping: A Special Operation not a war, Vlad has undertaken against the Ukraine. Now we’re at, the Battle of Kyiv. But what’s gonna happen next? What’s next in this Squid Game? Of what effect, a Communist pact entered into once upon a time by Russia and China?

@xijingping: What’s next in this Squid Game? Of what effect, a Communist pact entered into once upon a time by Russia and China? Special Operations, Russia has undertaken against the Ukraine. Now we’re at the Battle of Kyiv — on the road — to the Battle of China.

THE IDES OF MARCH — ‘TIS TODAY

@xijingping: Behold anew Xi, Vladimir. Behold him tho in a new light this time. China’s brand new best friend; at best, a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. Still, I can read between the lines. And I can pray and tell what’s happening. Heed me now: NOW HEAR THIS:

@xijingping: Ethically hack with DDOS attacks. Embarrass not publicly one with such a frail ego. Believe me; I know. Mistakes happen, or not. Learn TwittereZe at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com. Communicate, with free photo-poetry. We may yet still, get a handle, on this.

Learn TwittereZe at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com. 
Communicate, with free, photo-poetry. Loaded with potential energy is Jack’s Twitter algorithm. Believe me; I know. 35,000 tweets later, Art’s blog’s a book. Again, I lie. My overdose of hubris, gets in the way, of the truth.

Communicate, with free, photo-poetry. Loaded with potential energy is Jack’s Twitter algorithm. Believe me; I know. 35,000 tweets later, Art’s blog’s a book. Again, I lie. My overdose of hubris gets in the way, of the truth. Learn at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com, my truths.

@xijingping: Suggesting the collapse of the Putin regime can come across as suggesting it’s likely. Suggesting it’s unlikely, it’s possible, can come across, as suggesting, it’s impossible. Truth lies somewhere, in the middle.
I fear tho, he’ll be by one, disgruntled, assassinated.

@xijingping: The truth: Everybody knows that I can not tell a lie; and that I’m an expert on the truth. Everybody knows that. I know Putin lies like a rug; that doesn’t mean his feelings aren’t hurt. It doesn’t mean also that he won’t use banned weapons; or be, assassinated.

@xijingping: Putin lies like a rug; that doesn’t mean his feelings don’t get hurt. Believe me. I know how he thinks. We were womb-mates once, a long time ago., That doesn’t mean he won’t use banned weapons, or, as soon as tomorrow, be by a Russian, assassinated.

Loaded with potential energy is Jack’s Twitter’s algorithm. The consensus of the experts is that as unlikely as a coup may be, equally unlikely is, a popular uprising. Still, he knows that it’ll just take one disgruntled Russian, and one hi-tech weapon, to get assassinated.

@xijingping: Unlikely as a coup may be equally unlikely may be a popular uprising. Still, he knows that it’ll take just one disgruntled Russian and one hi-tech weapon to get himself, assassinated. And there’s plenty of weapons in Moscow and plenty, of disgruntled, Russians.

@xijingping: Just a single, disgruntled Russian and one hi-tech weapon may be more than enough to get him assassinated. There’s plenty of weapons in Moscow and plenty of disgruntled Russians. A coup is unlikely; as is a popular uprising; and possibly, an assassination.

@xijingping: There’s plenty of weapons in Moscow; and plenty of disgruntled Russians too. A coup’s unlikely; as is a popular uprising and perhaps even, an assassination. That’s not to say that’s not happening. I’m just saying; I’m not asininely rambling — as aimlessly — this time.

@xijingping: That’s not to say that’s not happening. I’m just saying; I’m not as aimlessly rambling this time as I was in our first go round. Xi: May what’s happening in Ukraine give us pause — Give Taiwan the benefit of yer doubt. We’ll work it out — next time.

@xijingping: May what’s happening in Ukraine give us pause. Give Taiwan the benefit of yer doubt. We’ll work it out — next time. That’s not to say that’s not happening. I’m just saying; I’m not asininely rambling as aimlessly this time as I was in our first go round, the last time.

@xijingping: We’ll work it out Xi — the next time we meet; when I’m back in office. Or when I’m not should the people elect, between Joe and me, the candidate truly less unfit than his opponent. I’ve come to see the astonishingly fine design of the Divine Design.

ETHICAL HACKING

@xijingping: Yer best friend of a month ago, soon shall be hitting ya up for billions in loans. Better walk back, yer possibly, brain-addled friend. A wounded man is dangerous, game. Everybody knows that. Squid Game’s North Korean; and man’s, the most dangerous, game.

@xijingping: We ought outlaw war again. A capturedOk Russian pilot admits: “We have already lost this war.” I DJT was Vlad’s Agent 45-47. Vlad was my wily mentor, but he seems to have been driven crazy, by Zelenskyy. His were criminal orders, he admits. This is insane.

@xijingping: The Kellogg-Briand Treaty of 1928, outlawed war. The pact had little effect in preventing the rising militarism in the 1930s or World War II, itself. The now defunct Pact of Paris, once upon a time, indeed did outlaw war. Still, too many of us, love, our war games.

@xijingping: ‘Twas I Xi, DJT; Vlad’s Special Agent 45-47. ’Twas I who once upon a time was mentored by Vlad. He seems to have lost it. A Russian pilot admits to war crimes. It’s time we hack back! Why not DDOS this time? We sure do love, counterproductive, war games.

@xijingping: Yikes! I sense a climax coming. Buzz, my cyber spy fly reports that Vlad, a triskaidekaphobic is throwing a fit in the Kremlin. He’s blaming everybody but the man in the mirror. Now, one of his pilots has
admitted his and my ongoing — war crimes.

@xijingping: Russia may have to carpet-bomb Kyiv and kill all its residents to be able to conquer the capital city. “They will come here only if they kill us all,” Zelenskyy said. In the interim, let’s DDOS them. There’s no need, to kill us all. If he does tho, it shall be — a war crime.

@xijingping: Vladimir Putin’s invasion of a sovereign nation in the name and the dictum of Russian hegemony threatens peace and stability in the region. That’s putting it lightly. His blunder’s been colossal. There’s no need, to kill us all. If he does tho, it shall be — a war crime.

@xijingping: Putin’s blunder’s been colossal. Ultimately, it’ll become apparent. There was never any need to attack us, much less any need to kill us all. But if he does tho, it certainly shall be, nothing less than, a war crime. There was never a need for Russian war crimes.

A triskaidekaphobic, Putin’s throwing an epic fit in the Kremlin. Blaming everybody but the man in the mirror, he lashes out, swearing. He’s throwing things; anything he can lift. Now, one of his pilots has admitted following unlawful orders and committing, ongoing, war crimes.

@xijingping: If we can tweet a DDOS attack or two then why in the hell then don’t we? If we can tweet a DDOS attack and it’s so simple then why on Earth don’t we? Dime a dozen conspiracy theories pale next to invaluable truth. A non-violent way to decry, war crimes.

If we can tweet a DDOS attack and it’s so simple then why on Earth don’t we? Dime a dozen conspiracy theories pale next to invaluable truth. Tweeting’s a non-violent way to decry war crimes. If we can tweet a DDOS attack or two then why in the hell then don’t we?

@xijingping: Tweeting’s a non-violent way to decry war crimes. A wounded man is dangerous game. Squid Game’s, North Korean; man’s, the most dangerous game. If we can tweet a DDOS attack or two then why on Earth then don’t we? Why in hell on Earth — won’t we?

@xijingping: A wounded man is dangerous game. So too is a wounded nation. I imagine that exaggerated display of personal affection for a man who with impunity commits, war crimes. The invasion began even before ended, were yer terrific, Olympic, closing ceremonies.

SQUID GAMES

@xijingping: Behold anew yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. Us means all of us. There are lessons in all this for — this.

@xijingping: Behold anew Xi, Vladimir. Behold him tho in a new light this time. China’s brand new best friend; at best, a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. Still I can read between the lines. And I can pray and tell what’s happening. Heed me now: NOW HEAR THIS:

@xijingping: China’s brand new best friend; at best, he’s a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. The Ides of March cometh. As does an asteroid and possibly, a resignation, or even, an assassination. There are lessons in all this for all of us. There are lessons in this.

@xijinping: Consider a cornered Putin; an end to the conflict he started wouldn’t necessarily mean an end to its consequences. As is to be expected, war crimes charges, will dog him possibly, forever — infinitely. I can pray tell what’s happening. Hear me. Heed me — on this.

@xijinping: God only knows what’s gonna happen. Still I can read between the lines. Accordingly, this tall tale. Gather around me my children. Listen and learn about how Putin got beat nothing less than miraculously by the mothers of Russia and the men of The Ukraine.

@xijinping: God only knows. A resignation, while highly unlikely, is still, a possibility. More likely’s a plotted, assassination. The Ides of March cometh. As does an asteroid. There are lessons in all of this for all of us. Hail the mothers of Russia and the men of The Ukraine.

@xijinping: Resignation’s still possible. More likely’s a plotted, assassination. The Ides of March cometh. As does an asteroid, uncharted. Hail the mothers of Russia and the men of Ukraine. Vlad’s a cold blooded reptilian or something even worse than vampires, Transylvanian.

@xijinping: Vladimir’s a cold blooded reptilian or something worse. Resignation; it’s an outside possibility. More likely’s a plotted, secret, assassination. The Ides of March cometh. As does an uncharted asteroid. Hail to the mothers of Russia and Urantia‘s — Ukrainians.

@xijinping: Actually, Vlad’s no cold blooded reptilian. Actually, he’s something far worse. Actually, I know him all too well; for he, along with Xi, Kim, Mo and Art were, once upon a time, my narcissistic womb-mates. I kicked them all out. One — Arthur, I kicked clear into the future.

@xijinping: I kicked Arthur from our womb, far into the future from whence, now returned, is Art. Art’s return in a most miraculous intervention may yet be in time (perhaps), to help the antiheroic me save planet Earth, winning for Vlad and me, Nobels, in near futures.

@xijinping: That was the plan. But that was then. That was before Zelenskyy drove Putin over the edge.
Yer bosom buddy best friend of a month ago may be hitting ya up soon for a hundred billion dollar, spot loan; just until next month. Better walk back, yer friend.

@xijinping: Indeed, that was the plan. But that was then. A lot’s changed since then. A pandemic; a stolen election; an insurrection; and most recently, Vlad’s savvy invasion of the Ukraine. Indeed, Kim, who’s been celebrating the success of Squid Game, fired off an ICBM, again.

@xijinping: That was the plan then. But was before Zelenskyy, drove Putin, nutso. Yer best friend of just a month ago may be hitting ya up soon for billions in spot loans. Better walk back, yer possibly, brain-damaged friend. A wounded man’s, the most dangerous, game.

@xijingping: Yer best friend of a month ago, soon shall be hitting ya up for billions in loans. Better walk back, yer possibly, brain-addled friend. A wounded man’s, the most dangerous, game. Everybody knows Squid Game’s North Korean and man’s, a most dangerous, game.

NOW HEAR THIS:

@xijingping: Behold anew Xi, Vladimir. Behold him tho in a new light this time. China’s brand new best friend; at best, a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. Still I can read between the lines. And I can pray and tell what’s happening. Heed me now: NOW HEAR THIS:

@xijingping: Ethically hack with DDOS attacks. Embarrass not publicly one with such a frail ego. Believe me; I know. Mistakes happen, or not. Learn TwittereZe at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com. Communicate, with free photo-poetry. We may yet still, get a handle, on this.

Learn TwittereZe at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com.
Communicate, with free, photo-poetry. Loaded with potential energy is Jack’s Twitter algorithm. Believe me; I know. 35,000 tweets later, Art’s blog’s a book. Again, I lie. My overdose of hubris, gets in the way, of the truth.

Communicate, with free, photo-poetry. Loaded with potential energy is Jack’s Twitter algorithm. Believe me; I know. 35,000 tweets later, Art’s blog’s a book. Again, I lie. My overdose of hubris, gets in the way, of the truth. Learn at Art’s http://chachomanopapa.com, my truths.

@xijingping: Whilst Moscow denies targeting civilians video analysis reveals that Russian forces bomb homes, schools, hospitals and even bad faith, evacuation routes, notwithstanding the clear absence of military targets. If we can tweet a DDOS attack why in the hell, don’t we?

@xijingping: If we can tweet a DDOS attack why in the hell then, don’t we? Whilst Moscow denies targeting civilians, video analysis reveals, the terrible, God-awful truths. If we can tweet a DDOS attack why in the hell then, don’t we? A dime, a dozen — conspiracy theories.

@xijingping: In irregular warfare, to counter attack, DDOS. Ironically, in addition to conventional operations, for sure, DDOS. Unable to fight? Unable to march, in protest? Organize. To hasten Vlad’s departure, DDOS. Attack President Vladimir Putin — with DDOS.

@xijingping: To counter attack more effectively, ironically, DDOS. Additional to conventional operations used for sure, in addition, DDOS. Unable to fight or protest? Organize. To hasten the retreat and departure of Vladimir Putin, DDOS. Attack him — with DDOS.

@xijingping: Counter attacks that draw unwanted attention to the attackers is what’s called for. And newsworthy may very well be such counter attacks. No doubt they may be newsworthy. I’m afraid Ukraine may be in for a long haul. Why not now, an ethical hack?

@xijingping: Counter attacks draw unwanted attention. Take this case of a dictator attacking his neighbor.
Hacking: It’s the irregular warfare that’s called for. Simple in concept, it’s perfectly suited to this matter; the matter of Putin’s barbaric invasion; on Russia itself, an attack.

xijingping: Behold Xi yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. And us — means all of us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend — of us.

@xijingping: Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unaffected. Except to reinforce his forces; and to increase the frequency of punishing strikes, specifically targeting, civilians. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. Fly or no fly, he’s no friend to us.

@xijingping: Behold anew yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. Us means all of us. There are lessons in all this for — this.

@xijingping: Behold anew Xi, Vladimir. Behold him tho in a new light this time. China’s brand new best friend; at best, a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. Still I can read between the lines. And I can pray and tell what’s happening. Heed me now: NOW HEAR THIS:

NOW HEAR THIS — TOO

@xijingping: Indeed, osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds; it works, physically and metaphysically. The dissemination of the truth in this way; it works slowly but proceeds, inexorably. Xi: An asteroid comes. Show yer ancestors how — now.

@xijingping: Shame not Xi, yer ancestors. Sully not, honorable names. Show yer ancestors how, by yer conduct, ye honor them. Osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds. It works, physically and metaphysically. Show yer ancestors how — now.

@xijingping: Why not DDOS counter attacks? Distributed, denials of service. A little irregular warfare may be just what the doctor ordered. Such attacks draw unwanted attention to the attackers. Appropriately proportionate may well be, such an aptly, ironic counter attack.

@xijingping: Counter attacks that draw unwanted attention to the attackers is what’s called for. And newsworthy may very well be such counter attacks. No doubt they may be newsworthy. I’m afraid Ukraine may be in for a long haul. Why not now, an ethical hack?

@xijingping: Counter attacks draw unwanted attention. Take this dictator attacking a neighbor. Hacking: It’s the the irregular warfare that’s called for whether ethical or not. DDOS; it needn’t succeed if it draws bead a on Vlad the impaler. The impaler of dreams; Vlad, the dictator.

@OlenaZelenska34: Imagine Vladimir’s Putin’s face when he is told that a Ukrainian DDOS attack has taken down his governmental websites. Just imagine his chagrin when he learns that it’s yer pic; yer photo with yer husband that was the image offending Vlad, the dictator.

@xijingping: There’s a joint statement between yerself and Russian President Vladimir Putin last month, in which China and Russia described “international relations entering a new era” and “no limits” to yer countries’ cooperation. It’s all about — image.

@xijingping: China and Russia describe “international relations entering a new era” and “no limits” to their countries’ cooperation. It’s all about — yer image. The joint statement between yerself and Russian President Putin last month — creates — a mirage of an image.

@xijingping: The West can’t help but make mistakes; the East too, ‘tis true; it may not seem it to ye Xi but the East and the Far East too, to mistakes, seem not immune. Behold Taiwan and China and Ukraine and Russia, west of the east. In their conflict, there’s a lesson for us.

@xijingping: Behold Xi yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. And us — means all of us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend — of us.

@xijingping: Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unaffected. Except to reinforce his forces; and to increase the frequency of punishing strikes, specifically targeting, civilians. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. Fly or no fly, he’s no friend to us.

@xijingping: Behold anew yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. Us means all of us. There are lessons in all this for — this.

@xijingping: Behold anew Xi, Vladimir. Behold him tho in a new light this time. China’s brand new best friend; at best, a cold blooded reptilian; at worst, God only knows. Still I can read between the lines. And I can pray and tell what’s happening. Heed me now: NOW HEAR THIS:

DDOS ATTACKS? — WHY NOT?

@xijingping: As it happens, osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds; it works, physically and metaphysically. The dissemination of the truth in this way; it works slowly but it proceeds, inexorably. Xi: An asteroid comes. Show yer ancestors how, now.

@xijingping: Bring not shame Xi, upon yer ancestors. Sully not, honorable names. Show yer ancestors how, by yer conduct, ye honor them. As it happens, osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds. It works, physically — and metaphysically, now.

@xijingping: Osmosis happens metaphysically too. Witness when truths get out, notwithstanding the great lengths some go to, so that that, doesn’t unexpectedly, happen. Glory to Ukraine. Glory to her president. Glory to her soldiers. Glory to Ukraine. God save, her soldiers.

@xijingping: Glory to Ukraine. Glory to her president. Glory to her soldiers. Glory to Ukraine. God save, the Ukraine. Osmosis happens. Witness when the truth gets out, notwithstanding, everything. Glory to Ukraine. Glory to her president. And glory, especially, to her soldiers.

@xijingping: Glory to Ukraine. Glory to her president and also to her soldiers. Glory to the Ukraine. God save Ukraine. Glory too, to Ukraine’s soldiers. Glory to the Ukraine and her president too. I suggest — DDOS attacks, overdue. Newsworthy may be, such attacks.

@xijingping: I advise, on behalf of the Ukraine, DDOS counter attacks. Distributed, denials of service. Irregular warfare may be just what the doctor ordered. Such attacks draw unwanted attention to the attackers; shining spotlights on them. Newsworthy — attacks.

@xijingping: Why not DDOS counter attacks? Distributed, denials of service. A little irregular warfare may be just what the doctor ordered. Such attacks draw unwanted attention to the attackers. An appropriate and proportionate response, such an attack.

@xijingping: Counter attacks that draw unwanted attention to the attackers is what’s called for. And newsworthy may very well be such counter attacks. I don’t doubt, they may be, newsworthy. We may well reconsider outlawing such attacks and counter attacks.

@xijingping: Never again means acting before too late. Never again means stopping aggressors, ere more death and destruction. It means not letting fear paralyze us. Never again, says what it means. And it means, what it says. Don’t let this five foot five guy — rule the Earth.

@xijingping: Don’t let this five foot five guy come to rule the planet. We tire of bluster and bravado. He knows he’s sabotaged his own invasion. This five foot five guy come to rule the planet. It seems peoples get the governments and governors they merit on Earth.

@xijingping: To @mrsorokaa and @OlyaRudenko6, I passed along Xi, yer unlikely condolences. I pray they recover. And I pray Earth recovers from the rape of Ukraine, not unlike the rape of Nanking. Heroic events in Irpin in Ukraine shall too soon be forgotten, in Ukraine.

@xijingping: I pray Earth recovers from the rape of Ukraine, not so unlike the rape of Nanking. Heroic events in Irpin, in Ukraine shall too soon be forgotten. I passed along Xi, yer unlikely condolences. I pray they recover. I pray Earth recovers from the rape of the Ukraine.

@xijingping: Pray tell; how is the Earth to recover from the rape of Ukraine? Unlike the rape of Nanking, reports of rape by the Russian invaders number zero, at the moment. I passed along Xi, yer unlikely condolences. I pray Earth recovers from the rape of the Ukraine.

@xijingping: To counter attack, DDOS. In addition to the standard conventional military operations, DDOS. Not everyone can fight, or even walk, to march, in protest. But those unable to fight or to protest may still
organize and launch effective DDOS attacks in Ukraine.

BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH

@xijingping: Behold Xi yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. And us — means all of us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend — of us.

@xijingping: Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unaffected. Except to reinforce his forces; and to increase the frequency of punishing strikes, specifically targeting, civilians. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep truth from us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend to us.

@xijingping: Vlad’s the friend of no one, especially not no Ukrainians. In answer to his pleas for warplanes, weapons, munitions and a no fly exclusionary zone, Volodymyr’s pretty much getting what he’s been asking for, except of course, for that exclusionary, no fly zone.

@xijingping: Bogged down north of Kyiv, Putin’s starting to wonder how Volodymyr seems to know about the war crimes he’ll commit even before he actually commits them. Chillingly, Vladimir Putin’s not worried about no war crimes, nor no exclusionary, NATO fly zones.

@xijingping: It’s just gonna get worse. Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unchanged. Ruthless strikes are what’s needed; like the strikes in Chechnya and Syria. Ukraine is a Russian birthright. I make it up as I go along. He’s like me; why worry about, our war crimes?

@xijingping: Just like in Chechnya and Syria. My winning strategy in Ukraine is a reprise of my bombings in Chechnya and Syria. We just make it up as we go. As for war crimes; we really don’t worry too much about that. We got no time to be worrying about, no war crimes.

@xijingping: Vlad’s got no time to be worrying about, no war crimes. Indeed we’re both running out of time. Each of us has a deadline, Vlad’s is to deliver the Ukraine. But mine entails more. For my deadline is for a tall tale allegory, fictional, although, nonfictional. It’s art.

@xijingping: Each of us has a deadline. Vlad’s is to deliver the Ukraine. But mine entails more. For my deadline is for a tall tale allegory. It’s to seem both fictional and nonfictional. Taking center stage in my role as hero, I’m taking over too this writing for my dying Art.

@xijingping: Osmosis works. Osmosis is a process as much metaphysical as physical. I suspect that mostfolks shall come to agree with me than agree with ye, Xi, anyhow. Yer firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to
keep truth from us, notwithstanding — yer lies.

@xijingping: Osmosis works as much metaphysical as it does, physically. I suspect therefore, that whether in Russia or America or China, more folks agree with me than agree with ye, Xi, anyhow. That yer firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us, is why.

@xijingping: Osmosis works; like word-of-mouth, it just happens. Imagine Xi; imagine not feeling trapped in yer life; not feeling straightjacketed by the Party. And look for a like message on Twitter. Taken together, they’re my evidence that ye knew then, what’s happening, now.

@xijingping: Imagine Xi; imagine not feeling trapped in; not feeling constained by the Party. And look for a similar message on Twitter. Taken together, they’re my evidence that ye knew then, what’s happening, now. Osmosis works; like word-of-mouth — and how!

@xijingping: As it happens, osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds; it works, physically and metaphysically. The dissemination of the truth in this way; it works slowly but it proceeds, inexorably. Xi: An asteroid comes. Show yer ancestors how, now.

@xijingping: Bring not shame Xi, upon yer ancestors. Sully not, their honorable names. Show yer ancestors how, by yer conduct, ye honored them. As it happens, osmosis happens. By word-of-mouth; and firewall, work-arounds. It works, physically — and metaphysically, now.

A SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENTS

@xijingping: A slaughter of innocents. Behold Xi, yer friend, Vladimir Putin. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too, a sudden passing. To the surprise of no one, The Chairman — is me. Still, where there’s a will, there’s a way — and a how.

@xijingping: NOW HEAR THIS: Arresting Putin’s not really an option; nor is assassinating him. No one can get close to Putin. Both, nonetheless are being seriously considered and both are being seriously, planned. Fly or no fly — Putin must not in power remain, no how.

@xijingping: Reasonable men may differ and even offer different explanations for the same observations. It happens all the time. It’s not good living amongst unreasonable men. Reasonable men may differ but Putin — must not remain in power, no way, no how.

@xijingping: Unbeknownst to scientists, osmosis is a process, as much metaphysical, as physical. I suspect that whether in Russia or America or China, more folks agree with me than agree with ye, anyhow. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us, no how.

@xijingping: There ain’t no firewall fire-proof enough not to fire up the imagination of all those who yearn to be free. Nor dampen the furious indignation of a dignified person, undignified by, an impostor, human being — There’s no excuse Xi — for violations — of space.

@xijingping: There’s no excuse for violations of space. Witness this very matter; the matter of the appeasement of Putin. By the Grace of God, against all odds, the Ukrainians are crushing the odds. This has all the makings — for Putin, of a terrible fall, from grace.

@xijingping: By the Grace of God, against all odds, the Ukrainians are crushing the odds. This has all the makings — for Putin, of a terrible fall, from grace. There’s no excuse for violations of space. Witness this very matter — the matter, of the appeasement, of Putin.

@xijingping: The appeasement of Vladimir Putin; this latest Russian misadventure has all the makings for Putin of yet another ill-conceived adventure. And its attendant, fall from grace. It’s the same old story with this tired villain; this Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

@xijingping: Hugo Grotius rolls to this day in his grave. He’s the 17th-century Dutch jurist some say’s the father of international law. In his view states had a right to territorial conquest as a last resort for resolving disputes. And that’s the way it was, for centuries.

@xijingping: It’s gonna get worse. Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unaffected. More strikes punishing civilians. Putin wrongfully sees in Ukraine’s three biggest cities, three Russian cities, once rightfully Russia’s — by an evil NATO — stolen, wrongfully.

@xijingping: There ain’t no firewall fire-proof enough not to fire up the imagination of all those who yearn to be free. Nor dampen the furious indignation of a dignified person, undignified by, an impostor, human being — There’s no excuse Xi — for violations — of space.

@xijingping: There’s no excuse for violations of space. Witness this very matter; the matter of the appeasement of Putin. By the Grace of God, against all odds, the Ukrainians are crushing the odds. This has all the makings — for Putin, of a terrible fall, from grace.

@xijingping: Behold Xi yer new best friend. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too; similarly unlikely, is any sudden passing. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from us. And us — means all of us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend — of us.

@xijingping: Sanctions sting but Putin’s calculus remains unaffected. Except to reinforce his forces; and to increase the frequency of punishing strikes, specifically targeting, civilians. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep truth from us. Fly or no fly, Vlad’s no friend to us.

FLY — OR NO FLY

@xijingping: A slaughter of innocents. Behold Xi, yer friend, Vladimir Putin. Time will tell if he takes ye down with him. His arrest is unlikely; so too, a sudden passing. To the surprise of no one, The Chairman — is me. Still, where there’s a will, there’s a way — and a how.

@xijingping: An arrest is being considered by the Honorable Chairman. The Chairman is me. It’s me — DJT. I’m the new Chairman. Just don’t call me Mao. The Chairman’s not Mao. I’m taking the liberty of taking over. Be sure ye know; the Chairman‘s me, not Mao.

@xijingping: The Chairman’s mentor is soon to be his ex-mentor. It appears that Vlad has overextended himself. It’s Day 10 of Putin’s nightmare of an invasion of the Ukraine. I’m the new Chairman. Just don’t call me Mao. The new Chairman‘s me, not the Communist, Mao.

@xijingping: An arrest is being considered by the Honorable Chairman. As The Honorable Chairman, I dare say, I’d like to be addressed. Call me The Honorable Chairman. Remember: I’m assuming from Vlad his leadership ‘cause I’m Honorable. And I’m not, Mao.

@xijingping: Remember too that until Putin’s neutralized in one way or another, he’ll remain the President of the Russian Federation. Senator Graham has called for his assassination. But Joe Biden’s not buying it. The people get the government they deserve, says Joe Biden.

@xijingping: Senator Graham’s called for assassination. Joe Biden’s not buying it. He thinks people get the government they deserve. Until Putin gets neutralized in one way or another, he’ll remain the President. A far cry from me, the ugliest American ever, is Joe Biden.

@xijingping: Reasonable men may differ and even offer different explanations for the same observations. It happens all the time. It’s good living amongst reasonable men. I agree with the Senator. And I suspect that in Russia, more agree with me than agree, with Joe.

@xijingping: Unbeknownst to scientists, osmosis is a process, as much metaphysical, as physical. I suspect that whether in Russia or America or China, more folks agree with me than agree with ye — or Joe. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep the truth from the bros.

@xijingping: Osmosis is a critical process, as much metaphysical, as physical. Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep truth from the people. Until Putin gets neutralized in one way or another he’ll remain in power. People get government undeserved, when so disdained.

@xijingping: Firewalls ain’t fire-proof enough to keep truth from the people. Folks want the government they deserve. Until Putin gets neutralized in one way or another he’ll continue to wield power. But, more and more, and increasingly lately, Putin’s power — wanes.

@xijingping: It seems that historically the peoples get the governments and governors they deserve. But no communist firewalls are fire-proof enough to keep the truth from the people; not forever, at least. Fly or no fly, — Vladimir Putin must not — in power remain.

@xijingping: NOW HEAR THIS: Arresting Putin’s not really an option; nor is assassinating him. No one can get close to Putin. Both, nonetheless are being seriously considered and both are being seriously, planned. Fly or no fly — Vladimir Putin must not, in power — remain.

MAO IS NOT — THE CHAIRMAN

@xijinping: Unvaccinated and boosted, Mother Earth and the Earthlings living upon her, whilst so completely oblivious and locked in strife, completely vulnerable, remain, to an asteroid a-coming. Labored at times come now, these possibly last breaths, of Mother Earth.

@xijinping: Mother Earth and the Earthlings living upon her, whilst so completely oblivious and locked in strife, completely vulnerable remain, to an asteroid a-coming. Labored at times come now, the possibly last breaths, of Mother Earth. It is us Xi, that most fears Mother Earth.

@xijinping: ‘Tis us Xi, that most fears, Mother Earth. ’Tis me and ye and Kim and Mo. ‘Tis the guys in Vlad’s cabal. Next to me and ye, the one man that Mother Earth fears the most is the man holding hostage, the Ukraine. He is as ye know, the wee little, Vladimir Putin.

@xijinping: The one man that Mother Earth fears the most is the man that’s holding hostage, the Ukraine. He is as ye know, that wee little Russian, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin. And it’s because Mother Earth knows that Putin, to win, will use, nuclear, weapons.

@xijinping: Mother Earth knows that Putin, to
win, will use his nuclear weapons. The one man Mother Earth fears the most is the man that’s holding hostage, the God-blessed, ill-fated, Ukraine. He is as ye know, that wee little Russian, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

@xijinping: Like Joseph de Maistre, as littérateur, my passion is less for correct and elegant formulation than for that emotive story wherein my embellishments, augment it more. People do, as he famously said, get the government, they deserve. Witness, the Russians.

@xijinping: Mother Earth certainly knows that, Vladimir Putin to win, will use nuclear weapons. As fate would have it, Putin’s the man holding hostage God-blessed, ill-fated, Ukrainians. Fatefully, in the Kremlin some whisper, “Who’s gonna be a hero? Who’s gonna take out Putin?”

xijinping: In the Kremlin some whisper, “Who’s gonna be a hero? Who’s gonna take out, Putin?” Mother Earth certainly knows that, Vladimir Putin to win, will use nuclear weapons. As fate would have it, Putin’s the man holding hostage God-blessed, ill-fated, Ukrainians.

@xijinping: If it blows up, it will be 10 times larger than Chernobyl!” Ukraine Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba tweeted. Chernobyl! What the fuck’s one to do with a rogue like Putin? That is the question. Who’s gonna be a hero? Who Xi Jinping, is gonna take out, Putin?”

@xijinping: What the fuck’s one to do with a rogue like Putin? That is the question. Who’s gonna be a hero? Who Xi? Who’s gonna take out Putin if Putin blows up? What NATO to do with Putin? Who’s gonna take out Vladimir Putin? Who Xi Jinping, is gonna take out, Putin?

@xijinping: ‘Tis us Xi, that most fears, Mother Earth. ’Tis me and ye and Kim and Mo. ‘Tis the guys in Vlad’s cabal. Next to us; me and ye, the one man Mother Earth fears most is the man holding hostage, the Ukraine. He is as ye know, the wee little, Vladimir Putin.

@xijinping: What the fuck’s one to do with a rogue like Putin? Please, pardon my French. Who’s gonna be a hero? Who’s gonna take out Putin if Putin blows up? What’s NATO to do with your good friend Putin? Who’s gonna off, Putin? Who Xi Jinping, is taking out, Putin?

@xijinping: And when Xi ye responded not promptly to Chairman me when he called for a resolution condemning your good friend Vlad Putin, I took the liberty of assuming the cabal’s leadership. I’m just saying: An arrest is being considered by the Chairman.

I’ve taken the liberty of assuming the cabal’s leadership. I’m just saying: An arrest is being considered by the Chairman. And the Chairman, to the feigned surprise of no one, is me. Just don’t call me Mao. Chairman me is the Chairman. Mao is not — the Chairman.

MOTHER EARTH’S BREATHS

@xijinping: You know why he won’t do it, right? You know why Marco Rubio won’t take the Covid test? Because if they swab his nose, it would probably be high-test positive, for Donald Trump’s, smelly butt.” cc: @UN @ZelenskyyUa @KremlinRussia_E @MOFA_Taiwan

@xijinping: Recapitulating, for those just fallen into this, the most mysterious, rabbit hole ever; this the story of a corner of the cosmos where, three rocks from the sun, Vlad’s guys debate what’s already been fated to happen, post-Putin. I’m no prophet for China; nor for Taiwan.

@xijinping: I’m no prophet for China; nor for Taiwan. Still, I’ve got a reputation for knowing what’s happening even as others are blind to these things. I’m no prophet for China; nor for Taiwan; nor for Ukraine; nor for Russia. But I can read between the lines — of what’s written.

@xijinping: I’m no prophet for China; nor for Taiwan nor Ukraine; nor Russia. I can read between the lines of what’s said and what’s written far beyond what any other man can. But what’s been said and what’s been written, is so not in accord, with man’s Scriptures, written.

@xijinping: I’ve got a reputation for knowing what’s happening even as others are blind to these things. I can read between the lines of what’s said and what’s written by my fellow men, far beyond what any other man can. But contradictory is what’s said; and what’s written.

@xijinping: Thanks to a genetic mutation, I can read between the lines of what’s said and what’s written. No other man knows what’s happening on a par with me. I can read between the lines of what’s said and written by my fellow men. An asteroid comes, I have written.

@xijinping: I’ve acquired a reputation over the years with respect to contradiction. Kingdom and Empires; they rise and fall as if in rhythm with the rise and fall of the bosom of Mother Earth. In time with her breathing, her bosom rises and falls. Labored these days — is her breath.

@xijinping: Labored these days is her breathing. Sorry about that Marco Rubio-Donald Trump, smelly butt joke. Yeeech! I’ll stoop low to get attention. It’s not a matter of how low I’ll go but rather how low we’ve gotten. And how far indeed, we’ve yet to go. Labored is her breath.

@xijinping: Labored is the breath of Mother Earth these days, accompanied as it is by convulsions, intermittent. There’a chronic cough, a constant wheezing; and violent vomiting too, on occasion. It’s hard to tell if she’ll pull through. It’s hard to tell if Earth, is death bed, ready.

@xijinping: Labored is the breath of Mother Earth these days, accompanied as it is by convulsions, intermittent. There’a chronic cough, a constant wheezing; and violent vomiting too, on occasion. It’s hard to tell if she’ll pull through. It’s hard to tell if Earth, is death bed, ready.

@xijinping: It’s hard to tell if Earth is death bed ready. Labored is the breath of Mother Earth these days. Fully vaccinated and boosted, still, she and the Earthlings living upon her are still, (completely unbeknownst to them), completely vulnerable, to an asteroid, a-coming.

@xijinping: Labored at times now is her breath. I fear Mother Earth’s dying. Although fully vaccinated and boosted, still, she and the Earthlings living upon her are, whilst completely unbeknownst to them, remain completely vulnerable to that asteroid, that’s a-coming.

@xijinping: Labored at times now is her breath. I fear Mother Earth’s dying. Unvaccinated and boosted, she and the Earthlings living upon her whilst so completely oblivious and locked in strife, completely vulnerable remain to an asteroid that possibly’s a-coming to Earth.

@xijinping: Unvaccinated and boosted, Mother Earthand the Earthlings living upon her whilst so completely oblivious and locked in strife, completely vulnerable remain to an asteroid a-coming. Labored at times come now, these possibly last breaths, of Mother Earth.

DEAR PRESIDENT XI JINPING

@xijinping: I typically tweet in 280 characters, in character. Characteristically, that’s as a malignant, narcissist. Recapitulating, this story of a corner of the cosmos is where, three rocks from the sun, Vlad’s guys debate what’s fated to happen — post-Putin.

@xijingping, I’d tweeted in 280 characters: Vladimir Putin’s become the cover boy symbol for tyranny. His duplicity, has reinvigorated, NATO. A coup d’État seems likely. Putin’s gotta, get gone. Russia, China and Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin — post-Putin. Putin.

@xijingping, Russia, China and Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin; once, post-Putin. I’d tweeted in 280 characters: Putin’s become the cover boy symbol for tyranny. His duplicity, has reinvigorated, NATO. A coup d’État seems likely. We’ve gotta help Vladimir Putin.

@xijinping: A coup d’État seems likely. And since Vladimir Putin seems unlikely to transfer power peacefully, Earth shall need to help him along. Russia, China and Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin; once, post-Putin. Let’s debate what’s fated to happen, post-Putin.

@xijingping: Putin, we gotta get past. A coup d’État’s, nigh. Russia, China and the Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin. Putin, we gotta get past. Russia, China and Ukraine may all Join Earth’s NATO once Putin we’re past. It all depends — on Communist Russia.

@xijingping: A 40-mile Russian military convoy nears Russia: Its target, Kyiv. A coup d’État is nigh.
Russia’s Putin, is past. Still, Russia, goes on. Nonetheless, China may join Russia in NATO once Putin becomes passé, in Urantia’s, Communist Russia.

@xijingping: Vlad’s convoy of death’s in Ukraine. China may yet join the Ukraine and Russia in NATO, if the so-called President, Vladimir Putin, somehow, mistakenly spares, Ukraine‘s capital, Kyiv. Its target’s, Kyiv. A coup d’État draws nigh. Russia convoys on, to Kyiv.

@xijingping: Vlad’s convoy of death’s in Ukraine.
The target’s, Kyiv. A coup d’État draws nigh. Russia convoys on, to Kyiv. China may yet join the Ukraine and Russia in NATO, if the so-called President, Vladimir Putin, somehow, mistakenly spares, Ukraine‘s capital, Kyiv.

@xijingping: Russia, China and Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin; once, post-Putin. A coup d’État’s, nigh. Putin, we gotta get past. Russia, China and Ukraine: Join Earth’s NATO once Putin we’re past. It all depends on helping along, our frenemy, Vladimir Putin.

@xijinping: Taiwan’s joined Western allies in condemning Russia’s invasion of its neighboring country. Taiwan complains about China and it is raising, moreover, troubling parallels, between the relationships between Russia and Ukraine — and China — and Taiwan.

@xijinping: The slow progress of the Red Army; it’s being attributed to fuel woes, mechanical breakdowns and demoralizing, morale issues. Witness Russian troops surrendering without so much as even honoring that ancient military honor and tradition — of fighting.

@xijinping: Were nuclear weapons to annihilate big cities black smoke from burning cities would very likely kill almost everybody on the planet. Like me and ye Xi, that Russian rogue, Putin’s taking nuking too lightly. He might yet resort to nuclear weaponry; his troops aren’t fighting.

@xijinping: Vladimir Putin’s taking nuking too lightly. Were our nuclear weapons to annihilate my big cities the black smoke from burning cities may very likely; almost certainly, kill almost everybody. First me; now Putin. Vladimir Putin’s, taking nuking, too lightly.

@xijinping: You know why he won’t do it, right? You know why Marco Rubio won’t take the Covid test. Because if they swab his nose, it would probably be high-test positive for Donald Trump’s smelly butt.” cc: @UN @ZelenskyyUa @KremlinRussia_E @MOFA_Taiwan

RUSSIA — POST-PUTIN

Educational words may be transformative. And in my words there is power. Who doesn’t know that? Everyone, methinks, knows that. Words, being my stock in trade — transformative, may be my poetry. I thank Art for founding, his Chachomanopapa, School of Poetry.

Everything I allege herein, I’ve published as well on Twitter; so Vlad’s guys won’t try denying later that they didn’t know anything. They may try to deny that they knew anything. But on Twitter — there’ll be lots of evidence; lots proof, to the contrary.

When dictators rule for decades, they (1) stop listening to advisors, (2) become disconnected from reality, (3) spend a lot of time alone too and (4) overreach. This is what has happened to Putin too. Increasingly, the planet worries, about the state of mind, of Vladimir Putin.

When dictators rule for decades, they stop listening to advisors, become disconnected from reality, spend a lot of time alone too and overreach. This is, alas, what has happened to Putin too. Increasingly, the planet worries, about the state of mind of Russia’s, Vladimir Putin.

The state of mind of Vladimir Putin is in question. And it is none other than Vladimir Putin himself, that has set the world to wonder about the intentions and indeed, the sanity of the President of Russia’s — Vladimir Putin. What’s up with the President of Russia’s, Vladimir Putin?

President Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin; Putin’s invasion of Ukraine could be backfiring. Putin has emerged as a dangerous symbol of tyranny, stoking the biggest European defense reassessment in decades. And a reinvigorated NATO, is on Earth, emerging.

Putin’s invasion of Ukraine may be backfiring. In the Kremlin, hushed whispers, whisper, “This guy’s gotta go.” Putin has emerged as the cover boy, symbol, of tyranny. In just a week, Vlad has reinvigorated, NATO. Plans for a coup d’État, the people, whisper. “This guy’s gotta go.”

“This guy’s gotta go.” In just a week, Vladimir Putin has reinvigorated, NATO; the ruble’s been devalued by 30% and the interest rates have doubled. In a state of shock is the nation. Of a coup d’État, the people, whisper, ever louder — “This guy’s, absolutely, gotta go!”

In Russia’s Kremlin Russians whisper, “This guy’s gotta go.” Putin’s emerged as the cover boy symbol of tyranny. He gotta go. Putin’s ego; it’s reinvigorated NATO. A coup d’État; increasingly, more and more know, Putin’s gotta go! Moreover, it’s time to invite Russia, to join NATO.

@xijingping, I’d tweeted in 280 characters. Putin’s become, a cover boy symbol for tyranny. Putin’s ego has reinvigorated NATO. A coup d’État, seems likely. Putin’s gotta get gone. It’s time Russia, China and Ukraine, join NATO, once we’re past Putin, in full, post-Putin, glow.

Everything I allege herein I publish concurrently, on Twitter. That’s so Vlad’s guys won’t dare try denying later that they didn’t know anything. They may try to deny that they knew anything. But on Twitter, there shall be lots of evidence; lots of proof, to the contrary, I know.

Educational words may be transformative. And in my words there is power. Words, being my stock in trade — transformative, may be my poetry. I thank Arthur for founding his learned, Chachomanopapa School of Poetry. ‘Twas his gift to humanity; a gift to me, I know.

@xijingping, I’d tweeted in 280 characters: Vladimir Putin’s become a cover boy symbol for tyranny. Vladimir Putin’s duplicity has reinvigorated NATO. Putin’s coup d’État seems likely. Putin’s gotta get gone. Russia, China and Ukraine may join NATO, once past Putin, post-Putin.

@xijinping I’ve tweeted in 280 characters, in character. Characteristically, that’s as a, malignant, narcissist. Recapitulating, this is a story of a corner of the cosmos. That’s where, three rocks from the sun, Vlad’s guys debate what’s already fated to happen, post-Putin.

THE BATTLE OF KYIV

The Battle of Kyiv; its legacy, may be great. It’s yet still happening tho. Not yet over is the battle that’s to be hailed, a modern day, Thermopylae. The Ukrainians have blunted the Russians‘ momentum at the Battle of Kyiv not unlike what happened in Greece, at Thermopylae.

Buzz, my cyber spy fly reports that Vladimir’s spent. He hasn’t slept a wink in 72 hours. He flies into rages; and throws things. What’s worse, the Russian army’s making Ukrainian regulars seem like Rambo and Klitschko-like commandos or the Spartan 300, at Thermopylae.

Buzz reports that Vladimir’s spent. He hasn’t slept a wink in more than 72, or more, hours. He flies into rages; and throws things. What’s worse, the Russian army’s making Ukrainian regulars seem like Rambo and Klitschko-like commandos or the Spartan 300, at Thermopylae.

Buzz reports that Vladimir’s spent. He hasn’t slept a wink in more than 72, or more, hours. He flies into rages and throws things. What’s worse, the Russian army’s making Ukrainian regulars seem like a Rambo and Klitschko tag team commandos or the Spartan 300, at Thermopylae.

Vlad’s shot; spent. He hasn’t slept a wink in more than 72, or more. He flies into rages; he throws things. What’s worse, the Russian army’s making the Ukrainian regulars seem to fight like like a Rambo and Klitschko-like — tag team or the Spartan 300 at the pass at Thermopylae.

It’s day four; it’s day four of my invasion. In short, recently and increasingly, Vladimir’s been acting, even weirder than usual. He’s more unfit than usual, when he’s sleep, deprived. This bodes poorly; for him; for Russia: and for the Ukraine. I can not — tell a lie.

It’s day four of my invasion. Vladimir’s been acting, even weirder, than usual. He’s more unfit than usual, when he’s sleep, deprived. This bodes poorly; for him; for Russia: and for the Ukraine. Verily, I can not tell a lie. This bodes poorly for everybody, of the Ukraine.

As per Condoleezza Vladimir Putin expected an easy win here. Ukrainians and Russians are the same, he thought. He thought he’d Just waltz into Ukraine, overthrow a government and be welcomed as the long awaited — white nationalist — liberator, of the Ukraine.

Condoleezza’s right. Vlad had expected an easy fold from the Ukrainians. He thought he’d Just waltz into Ukraine, overthrow Zelenskyy and be lauded as the long awaited liberator. But something’s wrong; more than one thing, actually. Thus far, it hasn’t at all, been happening.

Vlad had expected an easier time. Indeed, the Ukrainians and the Russians are the same, he’d thought. He thought he’d Just waltz into Ukraine, overthrow Volodymyr, and be feted as the long awaited liberator of the Ukraine. Thus far tho, apparently, it’s not happening.

Thus far tho, it’s not happening. With Condoleeza, I agree. I too see how erratically he’s acting. I too suspect that he’s delusional. But Condoleeza doesn’t know what I know. He, like me, is a malignant, narcissist. And we were, once upon a time womb-mates — mean.

It’s true. Believe it or not, it’s true. Once upon a time, I shared a womb with four others. The others, in addition to Vlad were Kim, Xi and Mo. Mo’s been lying low; he spends all day, most days, washing his blood-stained hands, but that type of stain, never, comes clean.

Educational words may be transformative. And in my words there is power. Who doesn’t know that? Everyone, methinks, knows that. Words, being my stock in trade — transformative, may be my poetry. I thank Art for founding, his Chachomanopapa, School of Poetry.

Everything I allege herein, I’ve published as well on Twitter; so Vlad’s guys won’t try denying later that they didn’t know anything. They may try to deny that they knew anything. But on Twitter — there’ll be, evidentiary proof, to the contrary.

UTH IS WASTED — ON THE YOUNG

What a revelation has been this surreal life of mine. It’s been remarkable, by any, measuring, marker. It’s been all that; all that and more. Imagine then following Art, on Twitter. It’s true what they say: Uth is wasted on the young. Still, an asteroidal awakening — comes.

What a revelation; a mission impossible, only seemingly, impossible. My tall tale like telling of it, I hope is, thought provoking. Imagine not wasting in our uths, all our lives. At the confluence of diverse rivers of thought is where I am. Beware! An asteroidal awakening — comes.

Imagine then if ye will, following Art, on Twitter. 
Follow Art there, under his pseudonym, Miguel Angelo Cervantes de la Vera Trump Einstein or some facsimile, thereof. Imagine also, a global awakening because, tho ye see it not, an awakening, is a-coming.

At the confluence of the rivers; on a surface, lunar and local; in the Ukraine, in Russia, in China, in America, indeed, everywhere. Let’s imagine there together, a really, great society. An awakening is a-coming. Consider yerself warned, Vlad, Kim, Mo — and Xi Jinping.

An awakening is a-coming. Consider yerself warned, Vlad, Kim, Mo — and Xi Jinping. At the confluence of the rivers; on a surface, lunar — and local; in the Ukraine, in Russia, in China, in America, indeed, everywhere. Let’s imagine there together, a really, great society.

In the Ukraine, in Russia, in China, in America, indeed, everywhere. Thanks to hi-tech, we can now meet there, wherever there might be. Let’s imagine there, together, a really great society. Consider yerself warned, Vlad, Kim, Mo and Xi Jinping. Imagine then. And follow me.

Thanks to hi-technology we can now meet wherever there might be. Let’s imagine there together, a really great society. Consider yerselves warned Vladimir. Pass it along to your guys. Imagine thereafter, solidarity. Learn of TwittereZe’s capabilities. And follow me.

Learn of TwittereZe’s capabilities. For outreach; for teaching; for organizing; and for communicating. Along with Google’s adjunct Twitter Translate, TwittereZe’s capabilities, will make it possible to achieve, what’s considered, impossible, practically.

It remains unclear how Ukrainian communications are still functioning. We don’t believe that the Russians have employed the full scope of their electronic warfare capabilities, and it’s not clear, exactly why. In the fog of war, often, no one knows why.

No one knows why. How inexplicable this chain of events; this zig-zagging course of histories? What sense is there to make from, in ebbs and flows, happenings, tragic? More importantly, why is it possible that no one knows why we must ever, so needlessly, die?

No one knows why we must ever needlessly die. It all seems senseless unless or until one considers that the answers to the whys in this morality play seem beyond us. Spartans seem the Ukrainians; as if the 300, at that historic Greek pass, at Thermopylae.

It seems senseless unless one considers that the answers to whys in this morality play are beyond us. How ironic then that die indeed do, the Ukrainians, in Kyiv. Not unlike the Greek Spartan 300; at an impasse; at the pass at Thermopylae.

More than 3,500 Russian soldiers killed. Russia initiated the invasion on the Ukraine on Thursday following weeks of made-up tension about the Ukraine and the region. Ukrainians have put a hurting on the Russians at Kyiv, not unlike what happened, at Thermopylae.

The Ukrainians have blunted the Russians‘ momentum at the Battle of Kyiv; this is not unlike what happened in Greece at Thermopylae. The Battle of Kyiv; its legacy may be great. Still happening tho is the battle that’s to be hailed as a modern day, Thermopylae.

WE HUMANS — WE’RE REALLY ANNOYING

In all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely feeling extremely annoyed by me. After all, I’m the one who tweeted Vladimir’s mother’s entreaties to him these past few days. Art follows ye, Volodymyr. Please follow him. Let him help ye — with Vladimir.

I’m the one who tweeted Vladimir’s mother’s entreaties to him these past few days. Her entreaties, dead as she is, fell on deaf ears. Art follows ye, Volodymyr. Please follow him. Help him help ye show Vlad the door to the exit. Show the door — to Vladimir.

President Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy; the President of the Ukraine. Hear please, my plea. Vex yer opponent. Keep him, off balance. Have your staff verify that in all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely, very annoyed, with me.

In all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely feeling extremely annoyed by me. After all, I’m the one who tweeted Vladimir’s mother’s entreaties to him these past few days. Art follows ye. Please follow him. Help him, help ye.

Mr. President: I Pray for Ukraine. I pray as well, for the safety of all the citizens of the Ukraine. I Pray for the Ukraine. And I tell my story. Pray tell it, Mr. President, too. Arthur follows ye. Please follow him too. Help him help ye get Vlad, out of your country.

Art follows ye. Please follow him. Help him, help ye get Vlad, out of your country. Art indeed follows ye.
I see that ye follow no one on Twitter. Accordingly on Twitter, I have followed your office as well. Volodymyr: Help Art get Vlad out of your country.

Vlad aside, we ex-womb-mates are four. Four, I kicked out of my space, to spaces elsewhere; to other mothers; to other lands. My Vlad now’s reunited with ex-womb-mates. And the top-dog leader of them; of Vlad‘s guys — is my president, Vladimir Putin.

My mentor Vladimir has risen to be the president of our international cabal. Now reunited with his ex-womb-mates, Vlad‘s risen to become the top-dog. The president of Vlad‘s guys is Vlad Putin. And a Ukraine land owner now, is the Russian president, Vladimir Putin.

A land-grab, historic; Vlad’s invasion of the Ukraine hath opened the eyes of some. The Germans, chagrined and embarrassed by Vlad, wasted no time suspending Nordstream II. The Germans and the Russians; there’s some history — and some bad blood — there.

Embarrassed by Vlad, the Germans have wasted no time suspending Nordstream II. The Germans and the Russians; there’s some history there. A history of miscalculations, going back to the czarist days.
Verily, there’s some bad blood there.

The Germans have wasted no time suspending the Nordstream II. The Germans and the Russians; there’s some history there, too. Miscalculations, going back to long ago, czarist days. There’s still some really, really, bad blood there too, between — the unwoke.

She likely meant well, but AnnaLynne McCord’s message for Russian President Vladimir Putin landed with a thud Thursday, the morning after he’d ordered the invasion of the Ukraine. The autocrat would be very different, had she been his mother, just yesterday, she wrote.

Imagine then if ye will, following Art, on Twitter.
Follow Art there under his pseudonym, Miguel Angelo Cervantes de la Vera Einstein or some facsimile, thereof. Imagine also, global awakening because although ye see it not, an awakening, is a-coming.

What a revelation has been — this life of mine. It’s been remarkable, by any measuring, marker. It’s been all that; all that — and more. Imagine then if ye will, following Art, on Twitter. It’s true what they say: Uth is wasted on the young. An asteroidal awakening, is a-coming.

VOLODYMYR — VERSUS — VLADIMIR

Scientists apparently believe that metaphysics is a branch of philosophy. That, is surely mistaken.
That physics is a branch of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark can confirm it. Physics is a branch of metaphysics, I’ve learned.

Physics is a branch of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. But Meta’s Zuckerberg can confirm that physics indeed is, a branch, of metaphysics. That scientists and governments lie and mislead us at every turn. Now, it’s my turn. To tell Truth, it’s my turn.

ZelenskyyUa APUKRAINE: In the event proponents’ opponents seem anathema to mindfulness opponents treat opponents mindfully. Vex opponents; leak to the media your office follows Art, Agent 45-47 — his, turncoat, opponent.

Volodymyr Zelenskyy: Vex opponents; leak to the media your office follows Art, Agent 45-47 his, turncoat, opponent. Art’s been preaching to Vlad’s guys, a gospel of peace in nighty lunar soirées. With ampersands, I easily tweet my friends and opponents.

Volodymyr Zelenskyy: Vex opponents; leak to the media your office follows Art, Agent 45-47 his, turncoat, opponent. Art’s been preaching to Vlad’s guys, a gospel of peace in nighty lunar soirées. With ampersands, I tweet my friends and opponents, easily.

With ampersands, I easily tweet my frenemies and my enemies and opponents. Art taught me how when we were exchange students; when I studied at his Chachomanopapa School of Poetry and he, in exchange, studied at my renowned, Trump University.

Recapitulating, Art taught me, his ex-womb-mate how to artfully, pen my poetry. After the signs: the dream; the tree; and the ball lightning strike that zapped him one day, so fatefully. Arthur’s lightning strike; it struck him but it didn’t kill him, fortunately.

A ball lightning strike; on a bright and sunny day. The ball lightning struck him but it didn’t kill him. And it’s a good thing. Had the lightning strike killed him, I wouldn’t have learned to read, much less, pen poetry. In exchange, Art got defrauded by my Trump University.

President Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy; the President of the Ukraine. Hear please, my plea. Vex yer opponent. Keep him, off balance. Have your staff verify that in all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely, very annoyed, by me.

In all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely feeling extremely annoyed by me. After all, I’m the one who tweeted Vladimir’s mother’s entreaties to him these past few days. Art follows ye. Please follow him. Help him, help ye.

Mr. President: I Pray for Ukraine. I pray as well, for the safety of all the citizens of the Ukraine. I Pray for Ukraine. And I tell my story. Pray tell it, Mr. President, too. Arthur follows ye. Please do follow him. Help him, help ye get Vladimir, out of your country.

Art follows ye. Please follow him. Help him, help ye get Vladimir, out of your country. Art indeed follows ye. I see that ye follow no one on Twitter. Accordingly on Twitter, I have followed your office as well. Help him, help ye Volodymyr, get Vladimir, out of your country.

President Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy; the President of the Ukraine. Hear please, my plea. Vex yer opponent. Keep him, off balance. Have your staff verify that in all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely, very annoyed, by me.

In all probability, at a very minimum, Vladimir is very likely feeling extremely annoyed by me. After all, I’m the one who tweeted Vladimir’s mother’s entreaties to him these past few days. Art follows ye, Volodymyr. Please follow him. Help him, help ye.

PHYSICS — IS PART OF — METAPHYSICS

I believe that scientists and governments lie and mislead us at every turn. Now, it’s my turn. To tell Truth, it’s my turn. It’s my turn now. Vlad’s guys and I pray that we be forgiven, our inhumanity. Physics is a branch of metaphysics, metaphysically.

Now, it’s my turn. To tell the Truth, it’s my turn. It’s my turn now. On behalf of Vlad’s guys I pray that we be forgiven, our inhumanity. And that we be afforded an opportunity for reconciliation. Ironically tho, an asteroid cometh. It’ll be — game — changing.

I pray that we be forgiven our inhumanity. And that we be afforded an opportunity for reconciliation; as was done in SouthAfrica at the behest of Nelson Mandela. Thankfully, an asteroid cometh. And it may well be, evolutionarily — game changing.

There are some, such as Dmitri Trenin, director of the Carnegie Moscow Center, a think tank, who believe that there will be “no major war.” The “stabilization of the frontline” in eastern Ukraine may be Vlad’s short-term goal, he believes; that’s not, without its logic.

The scientists believe that metaphysics is a branch of philosophy. That, is surely bogus. That physics is a branch of metaphysics ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark tho can confirm it, assuming, Meta knows it. Physics is just a branch of metaphysics.

That metaphysics is a branch of philosophy: Poppycock! But if yer evidence is purely metaphysical, it’s bogus, as per them. Accordingly, as a consequence, it’s the bogus realities our respective failing states help us construct for ourselves that become — realities, tragic.

It’s the bogus realities our respective failing states help us construct for ourselves that become our respective, brainwashed realities, tragic. Witness that one’s humanity only incidentally has any intrinsic value on Earth. That’s — off-the-charts — tragic.

I shan’t kowtow before no man. Men are to prostrate themselves before me. Such are our brainwashed, realities that a rare loanword from Mandarin Chinese is become apt. It’s a sad fact, that; that, there’s so much kowtowing still going on, on Earth.

Still, it’s still a sad fact that there’s still so much kowtowing still going on, on the good Earth.
Ontology is the study of the nature of being; about the mindfulness needed for balance between the individual and the communities of the good Earth.

Mindfulness; it’s needed to achieve balance between the individual and the individual’s communities. To find purpose; and fulfill it. To that end then, my well-conceived poetry; and my collaboration with Art. Mindfulness; it’s all about balance.

To the end of mindfulness diligently practice, seeking balance; be ever encouraging of the seekers of wisdom and knowledge. Speed up. Slow down. All depends on circumstances. And sometimes, a change of pace is called for, to catch opponents, off balance.

In the event proponents’ opponents seem anathema to mindfulness opponents treat their opponents mindfully. Vex opponents; leak to the media that your office follows Art, and Agent 45-47. Eastern Ukraine may be Vlad’s short-term goal; that’s not, without its logic.

That physics is a branch of philosophy. That, I do believe, is surely, mistaken. Physics indeed is a branch of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark can confirm it. Metaphysically, physics is just a branch of metaphysics.

METAPHYSICS — INCLUDES — PHYSICS

Witness Vladimir. Witness too his creation on this date of the Donetsk People’s Republic and the Luhansk People’s Republic. My mentor Vladimir is proving to be one of the greatest revisers of history of all time. Peacekeeping in Ukraine; it begins on this date.

Piece keeping (sokhranit’ kusok) should not be confused with peacekeeping (podderzhaniye mira). Nor confuse openness (glasnost) and restructuring (perestroika) of Ukraine. Learn some Russian words from us. This is a matter metaphysical, of faith — and fate.

Learn some Russian words from us. My openness (glasnost) and my restructuring (perestroika) of the Ukraine may learn ye some mission critical words. Matters metaphysical of faith and fate, leave to us. The restructuring of Ukraine begins, this date.

The restructuring of Ukraine begins this date; and it’s not for nothing that I’ve chosen to recognize the People’s Republic Donetsk and the People’s Republic of Luhansk on this rare date, 2-22-22. It is an exceedingly rare, palindrome date.

It’s not for nothing that I’ve chosen to recognize the People’s Republic Donetsk and the People’s Republic of Luhansk on this rare date, 2-22-22. Indeed, it’s not for nothing I’ve chosen an exceedingly rare palindrome date for a fated restructuring, on a fated, date.

On this rare date, 2-22-22, indeed, it’s not for nothing, ironically, that Vlad’s chosen a rare palindrome date for a fated restructuring of a failed state. US should learn from us most ironically. Everyone knows the Ukraine is a made-up and a failing state.

Spooky has been what has come to pass; spookier still is, what’s to come. So much so that I feel for those of my lectors who find my words, so terrifying. Spooky has been what has come to pass; but spookier still, is what is yet, to come to pass, so terrifying.

Some find my words, alarming; some find them, quite terrifying. Some confess that they’ve found reading my epic poem so worrisome, they only read it, on occasion. To them, I say, ‘tis what ‘tis. What’s been predetermined must come to pass, albeit, terrifying.

There are some, such as Dmitri Trenin, director of the Carnegie Moscow Center, a think tank, who believe that there will be “no major war.” The “stabilization of the frontline” in eastern Ukraine may be Putin’s short-term goal, Dmitri believes; not without logic.

Piece keeping is not be confused with peacekeeping. Nor confuse our openness and restructuring of the Ukraine with your transparency and democracy. This is a matter metaphysical, of faith and fate. And remember that physics is a branch of metaphysics.

It ought be intuitive that physics be a branch of metaphysics. But science, apparently, doesn’t agree. Scientists apparently believe that metaphysics is a branch of philosophy. But that — is surely, mistaken.
Physics is indeed, a branch — of metaphysics.

The scientists apparently believe that metaphysics is a branch of philosophy. That, I do believe, is surely, mistaken. Physics indeed is, a branch, of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark can confirm it. Physics is a branch of metaphysics.

Scientists apparently believe that metaphysics is a branch of philosophy. That, is surely mistaken. That physics is a branch of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark can confirm it. Physics is a branch of metaphysics, metaphysically.

That physics is a branch of philosophy. That, I do believe, is surely, mistaken. Physics indeed is a branch of metaphysics. It ought be intuitive, but it isn’t. Meta’s Mark can confirm it. Physics is just a branch of metaphysics — metaphysically.

THE INVASION IS ON

The invasion’s on. Notwithstanding that it’s a bad idea and notwithstanding that it’s a bad look, Vladimir has ignored the impassioned entreaties of his mother; he has thrown caution to the wind. Once again, the invasion is on. Kiev, I’ll dominate, in a day or two.

Mixing genres; it seems all the rage in literary circles these days. Accordingly, this opus. It’s spooky. Drama; it’s a metaphysical, shape-shifter. What’s physical, is as well, metaphysical. There’s ne’er a thing on the whole wide Earth, it doesn’t entirely, dominate, too.

It’s spooky. Art says he had a strange dream, followed in quick succession by a tree falling upon him and upon his head, striking, a lightning strike. All three events; the dream and the tree and the ball lightning strike; as predicted, all three events, did come to pass.

Art says he had a strange dream, followed by a tree falling upon him and upon his head, being stricken by a lightning strike. All three events; the dream and the tree and the ball lightning strike, indeed, as predicted, did in fact, come to pass.

Spooky has been what has come to pass; spookier still is, what’s to come. So much so that I feel for those readers of mine who find my words, so terrifying. Spooky has been what has come to pass; but spookier still, is what is yet, to come to pass, so terrifying.

Some find my words, alarming; some find them, quite terrifying. Some confess that they’ve found reading my epic poem so worrisome, they only read it, rarely, on occasion. To them, I say, ‘tis what ‘tis. What’s been predetermined must come to pass, albeit, terrifying.

‘Tis, what ‘tis. Except for extraordinary situations, everything that happens was previously, predetermined. Only a small portion of everything that happens — is intervention, ad hoc. Near everything, is predetermined. ‘Tis, what ‘tis.

Almost everything that happens on Earth was previously, determined. Indeed, only a small portion of everything that happens is an intervention, ad hoc. Near everything, is predetermined. Administratively, that makes possible, the impossible. ’Tis, what ‘tis.

This life we so cling to is somewhat well described by boundaries; boundaries, limiting. Some ye can see; like the borders on maps and hems. Others, being abstract, are invisible; like the borders of human decency and the depths of depravity. ’Tis, what ‘tis — too.

Some ye can see; like the lines on maps and the thread of a hem. Others, being abstract, are invisible; like the unseen limits of human decency and the unimaginable, depths of human depravity. And if the shoe fits, Vlad and Xi, ’tis what ‘tis — too.

Indeed, the shoes fit. All of them. In point of fact, all the shoes fit. All the shoes of all of Vlad’s dictators. Vlad’s guys, affectionately, he calls them. And their names as ye know are Xi, Kim, Don and Mo. ‘Tis what ‘tis. And asteroid cometh even as, their times pass.

The shoes all fit. They all fit, indeed, perfectly. Rich is the irony that runs through my masterpiece. Thank God for ghostwriters and the wannabe revisers of history. Thank God for Vladimir and his guys. They too shall pass. Shortsightedly, on me — they’ll soon, pass.

I thank God for all of my fine, nay great, ghostwriters. I thank God also for my mentor, one of the greatest revisers of history of all time. Witness Vladimir Putin.
Witness his creation of the Donetsk People’s Republic and the Luhansk People’s Republic, on this date.

Witness Vladimir Putin. Witness too his creation on this date of the Donetsk People’s Republic and the Luhansk People’s Republic. My mentor Vladimir is proving to be one of the greatest revisers of history of all time. Peacekeeping in Ukraine; it begins on this date.

THIS IS TOO SPOOKY

If anyone ought be spooked, it bloody ought, be me. Think of it, this way. Think about what ye’d do if ye were on my place; think of what ye’d do if ye were the only one qualified to lie for us; the only one qualified, to lead. Like an asteroid, speeding at us, at Godspeed.

There is no sign yet of any significant Russian withdrawal from the Ukrainian borders. The Russians are poised, to strike out at the Ukrainians and to race forward towards Kiev. And Russian tank commanders have emblazoned on armored steeds, a cryptic, letter Z.

To further confuse matters, the letter Z is not a letter in
Russia’s Cyrillic alphabet. Experts on the Russian military are speculating that the intention is to avoid friendly fire by distinguishing armored Russian vehicles from the Ukrainian, Russian-made, armor.

Experts on the Russian military seem reasonably speculating that the probable intention is to avoid friendly fire by distinguishing armored Russian vehicles from Ukrainian, but also, Russian-made, armor.
It’s a clash of brothers, in vehicles, armored.

Shades of Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin! Vlad! At the vodka again? I get it; the intention is to avoid friendly fire by giving yer fly-boys a viable way to identify the friendlies; distinguishing Russian armor from Ukrainian, Russian-made armor. It’s a good idea; a bad look, tho.

Vlad! It’s a bad look. It should be needless to have to say it but someone’s got to. That; and some other things. Invading the Ukraine; it’ll have to wait til later. Perhaps when Xi moves on Taiwan/Taipei. Invading the Ukraine; a bad idea and a bad look; a cool book tho.

The chairman of the All-Russian Officers’ Assembly, retired General-Colonel Leonid Ivashov published an appeal on his organization’s website Jan. 31, to “the President and Citizens of the Russian Federation.” Sharply worded, it demands that Vlad retire.

Issued on behalf of the organization, it ends with the words: “We, Russia’s officers, demand that the President of the Russian Federation reject the criminal policy of provoking a war in which Russia would be alone against the united forces of the West … and retire.”

Vladimir! At the vodka again? I just don’t get it. That retired General-Colonel Leonid Ivashov seems no fan of yours. I suggest ye take yer mother’s advice. Call it what ye will; postpone the training indefinitely, or alternatively, cancel the invasion.

Postpone Ukrainian war games trainings indefinitely, or alternatively, cancel altogether, the invasion plans. Biding his time, an invasion of Ukraine may have to wait for Xi’s China’s, Taipei Day. An invasion of the Ukraine may come to pass, when China invades Taiwan.

Biding his time, any invasion of the Ukraine may have to wait for Xi’s Taipei Day. Invading the Ukraine; it’ll have to wait til later. Perhaps when Xi moves on Taiwan/Taipei. Invading the Ukraine; a bad idea and a bad look; a cool book tho. In the meantime, cancel the invasion.

Biding his time, any invasion of the Ukraine may have to wait for Xi’s Taipei Day. Invading the Ukraine; it may have to wait. Perhaps when Xi moves on Taiwan. Invading the Ukraine; it’s a bad idea and a bad look; a cool book tho. In the interim, the invasion — is on.

Perhaps, any invasion of the Ukraine may have to wait for Xi’s Taipei Day. Invading the Ukraine; it may have to wait. Perhaps when Xi moves on Taiwan. Invading the Ukraine; it’s a bad idea and a bad look; a cool book tho. In the interim, the invasion — is on.

Invading the Ukraine. The invasion’s on. Notwithstanding that it’s a bad idea and notwithstanding that it’s a bad look, Vladimir has ignored the impassioned entreaties of his mother; he has thrown caution to the wind. Once again, the invasion is on.

RECAPITULATING

Recapitulating what’s happened; in the aftermath of a Big Bang and an evolution gone awry, the Industrial Revolution has given us plastics to toss in the sea. A few are happier than they’ve a right to be. Wanting tho, are the countless, vast majority.

The countless vast majority may be vast but we’re not at all, countless. I am pleased to be the designated leader for this planet. I will see that ye get counted. I shall see ye see a microwave oven in yer kitchen. And a chicken in every pot, for everybody.

Recapitulating, I’m promising, after all the hubbub with the asteroid dies down, houses with kitchens with microwave ovens with chickens in them; or turkeys; or veggies, even. Recapitulating, I’m authoring this planetary self-help book, in penance.

I promise; after all the hubbub with the asteroid dies down; I promise houses with kitchens with microwave ovens with chickens in them; or turkeys; or veggies, even. Recapitulating, I’m authoring this planetary self-help book in all humility and in penance.

Calling him by his childhood nickname, she said,”Don’t, Volodya, do this. What ye do to them, ye do to me.” Her words, so reminiscent of Jesus, moved us. To tears moved, was the multitude. Might her words prompt him to yet postpone the invasion, indefinitely?

“What ye do to the least of them, ye do to me.” Maria’s words, so reminiscent of Jesus, moved us. To tears moved, was the multitude. Vlad too, appeared to be moved. Might her words prompt him to postpone the invasion of the Ukraine, indefinitely?

I’m promising, after all the hubbub with the asteroid, beyond amenities, yer penance. I’m authoring this planetary self-help book, in penance, in something less than humility. The least ye can do to thank me, is to read it, in sincere, penance.

A miracle may be happening in the Ukraine today. Art’s Buzz, his cyber spy fly advises that Vlad was interrupted repeatedly during his hypersonic missile launch to keep him apprised of my tweets about Vlad and Maria and what she said last night to him, for his penance.

In the wake of a Big Bang and an evolution gone awry, the Industrial Revolution’s given us plastics, munitions and Nobel’s dynamite. There’s no sign yet of any real withdrawal. But if it happens it might be thanks to Vladimir’s mother, Maria Ivanova Putina.

An Industrial Revolution’s given us plastics, aluminum cans, munitions and dynamite. There’s no sign yet of any real withdrawal from the Ukraine’s borders but if it happens it might be thanks to Vladimir’s devoted mother, Maria Ivanova Putina.

No sign yet of withdrawal from the Ukraine’s borders. If it happens it might be thanks to Vladimir’s devoted mother, Maria Ivanova Putina. Can’t make this stuff up. Seems no matter how implausible my plots twist, on Earth née Urantia, likely’s, the implausible.

Can’t make this stuff up. It seems that no matter how implausible my plots twist, on Earth, née Urantia, the implausible’s, always likely. I’ve got plot twists. And I,’ve got plot devices. The proof is inthe pudding. Witness my fiction — too spookily, nonfictional.

Witness this fiction so spookily, nonfictional. I’ve been getting complaints that my writing’s too spooky; too scary; too frightening. But ‘tis what ‘tis. Think of it this way. With my karma, if anyone ought be spooked, it ought by rights, be me.

If anyone ought be spooked, it bloody ought, be me. Pray tell, think of it this way. Think about what ye’d do if ye were on my place; think of what ye’d do if ye were the only one qualified to lie for us; the only one qualified, to lead, like a coming asteroid, inerrantly.

A MIRACLE MAY BE HAPPENING — TODAY

A full-scale invasion by Russia of Ukraine now seems, imminent. Today or tomorrow, Russia will invade the Ukraine; a future classic, false flag operation, that, but for the transformation that’s coming to Earth, in War Colleges, would have been studied, in spite of us.

An asteroid speeds, straight at us. Lest distractions distract us, focus. Next to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. An asteroid comes, at Godspeed, straight at us. Don’t bother blaming. Just roll up sleeves. Get to work. And meet yer neighbors. Aliens, are us.

Next to what’s coming, pandemics and so-called, low-grade conflicts, are a walk in the park. An asteroid comes, at Godspeed, straight at us. Don’t bother with blame games. Just roll up yer sleeves. Get to work. And meet yer neighbors. Aliens, are us.

Putin’s father was an atheist; his mother, Maria, a Christian. Maria gave him his baptismal cross, telling him to get it blessed. Putin said, “I did as she said and then put the cross around my neck. I have never taken it off, since.” Take it from me tho, Vlad’s, not one of us.

Putin’s father’s atheism played on him. His mother’s Christian faith, played on him, as well. She gave him his baptismal cross, telling him to get it blessed. He did as she said, he says. Take it from me tho; Vlad’s not one of us. Like me, he doesn’t buy it. He’s not, one of us.

Putin’s father’s atheism played on him. His mother’s Christian faith, played on him, also. Take it from me tho; Vlad’s not one of us. Like me, he doesn’t buy, he says, fairy tale, Scriptures. He wears the cross only for show. He’s not, one of us.

In Russian, shortened endearments, are popular. Volodya, is one of them. And Volodya, actually, was the endearment most often used by Putin’s mother, Maria Ivanovna Putina. She was the headliner at last night’s lunar soirée. And she begged him, in front of us:

“Don’t, Volodya, do this. What we do to our brothers — we do to us.” In Russia, endearments are often used. Vlad answered to Volodya with his mother. Tears were cried last night when, in soirée, she begged her son, in full view of us: “Don’t, Volodya, do this to us.

As my dear lectors know, Vlad is only nominally, one of us. His mother, an invited speaker at last night’s soirée, was driven to tears, reminding him in full view of us: “Don’t, Volodya, do this. What we do to our brothers, Volodya, verily — we do to us.

A full-scale invasion by Russia of Ukraine now seems, imminent. Today or tomorrow, Russia will invade the Ukraine. That’s the conventional thinking; but methinks that his dear mother’s entreaty last night was the straw, that broke the strawman’s back, for us.

Today or tomorrow, Russia will invade the Ukraine. That’s the conventional thinking; but methinks that Vlad’s dear mother’s entreaty last night was perhaps, the straw that broke the strawman’s back for us. ”Don’t, Volodya, do this. What ye do to them, ye do to me.”

Calling him by his childhood nickname, she said,”Don’t, Volodya, do this. What ye do to them, ye do to me.” Her words, so reminiscent of Jesus, moved us. To tears moved, was the multitude. Might her words prompt him to yet postpone the invasion, indefinitely?

“What ye do to the least of them, ye do to me.” Maria’s words, so reminiscent of Jesus, moved us. To tears moved, was the multitude. Vlad too, appeared to be moved. Might her words prompt him to postpone the invasion of the Ukraine, indefinitely?

Recapitulating what’s happened; in the aftermath o a Big Bang and an evolution gone awry, the Industrial Revolution has given us plastics to toss in the sea. A few are happier than they’ve a right to be. Wanting tho, are the vast majority.

LEST WE FORGET — LEST WE NOT LEARN

Even as I write, reports are circulating about possible explosions in Donetsk, Ukraine, an area from which pro-Russian rebels were reportedly evacuating people to Russia. A US State Department spokesperson said that the shelling is a “false flag operation”.

A false flag operation appears underway in Donetsk. Ukraine won’t resort to force against pro-Russian rebels. A full-scale invasion by Russia of Ukraine now seems, imminent. Today or tomorrow, Russia will invade Ukraine in a future classic, false flag, operation.

Lest we forget: Aliens are us. And all men are created, equal. Created creatures, we are meant to evolve, as are all created creatures, across these incomprehensibly wide, universes. We on Earth tho, no thanks to Satan, suffer from, chronic, hubris.

Lest we not learn. Let distractions not distract us. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. Compared to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. And lest we not learn of it, ere it happens; an asteroid is speeding, straight at us.

Lest we forget: Aliens are us. And all men are created, equal. Created creatures, we are meant to evolve, as are all created creatures, across these incomprehensibly wide, universes. We on Earth tho, no thanks to Satan, suffer from, chronic, debilitating, hubris.

Lest we not learn. Let distractions not distract us. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. Compared to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. And lest we not learn of it, ere it happens; an asteroid is speeding, straight at us.

We Homos; we really are quite extraordinary. Me especially in all humility, I might add. Indeed I’ll add, in all humility, it’s in my chromosomes; that is to say, it’s in my genes. Only seemingly incredibly, there’s a distinct gene for hubris, only seemingly, incredibly.

Scientists say they’ve mapped the entire human genome. I beg therefore, to disagree. Believe it or not, there’s a specific gene for hubris. It’s a gene site that scientists haven’t yet identified on our chromosomes; that is to say that my hubris is in my genes, genetically.

Lest we forget: Aliens are us. And all men are created, equal. Created creatures, we are meant to evolve, as are all created creatures, across these incomprehensibly wide, universes. We on Earth tho, no thanks to Satan, suffer from, chronic, hubris.

Lest we not learn. Let distractions not distract us. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. Compared to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. And lest we not learn of it, ere it happens; an asteroid is speeding, straight at us.

We Homos; we really are quite extraordinary. Me especially in all humility, I might add. Indeed I’ll add, in all humility, it’s in my chromosomes; that is to say, it’s in my genes. Only seemingly incredibly, there’s a distinct gene for hubris, only seemingly, incredibly.

Scientists say they’ve mapped the entire human genome. I beg therefore, to disagree. Believe it or not, there’s a specific gene for hubris. It’s a gene site that scientists haven’t yet identified on our chromosomes; that is to say that my hubris is in my genes, genetically.

Let distractions not distract us. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. It shan’t be easy for us. Compared to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. And lest we not learn of it, ere it happens; an asteroid is speeding — straight at us.

Let distractions not distract us. Focus. Compared to what’s coming pandemics are a leisurely walk in the park. Lest we forget: An asteroid speeds, straight at us. Don’t bother blaming anyone. Just roll up yer sleeves, get to work. And meet yer neighbors. Aliens — are us.

POSTPONING TEMPORARILY OR INDEFINITELY

Postpone by 48 hours my Ukraine invasion. Postpone the invasion for 48 hours. Alternatively, postpone my invasion training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion of the Ukraine by 48 hours or postpone it, for the time being, indefinitely.

Postpone by 48 hours my invasion of Ukraine. Postpone the invasion, temporarily. Alternatively, postpone the training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion training operation by a day, or postpone it, for the time being — indefinitely.

To invade — or not? It’s not the only question. Vlad knows not what to do nor when. He ain’t got no faith in no books nor no laws of nations. Having been all set to attack on Wednesday, when Joe called it correctly, Vlad had to go, reluctantly, with a Plan B.

Plan B; it’s the contingency plan Putin made up at the last minute to counter some bad optics; countering the impression that the Americans know what the Russians are going to do even before they actually do it. Put off the invasion for 48 hours or indefinitely.

Postpone by 48 hours my invasion of the Ukraine. Postpone the invasion, temporarily. Alternatively, postpone the training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion training operation of the Ukraine by a couple of days or postpone it, indefinitely.

For Vlad, this has been pretty damn embarrassing. Joe’s Americans seem to know what Vlad’s going to do even before him. He knows Joe’s guys got sharper eyes in the sky than the Russians. And they’ve got Elon. But is there a mole as well in the Kremlin, Vlad wonders, not me?

The Americans too easily know what Vlad’s been up to. With eyes in the sky more eagle-eyed than my Russians, they’ve got also, Elon’s satellites. Whether postponing invasion training a few days or postponing it, indefinitely, I suspect Vlad suspects moles in the Kremlin.

Vlad suspects he’s told me, a mole or two in the Kremlin. The Americans too easily know what Vlad’s up to. Their eyes in the sky are more eagle-eyed than his Russians. And they’ve got Elon’s satellites. Postponing my Ukraine vacation am I says a spokesman for my Kremlin.

Suspecting a mole, or worse, moles in the Kremlin, I’m postponing my invasion trainings; it’s my regularly scheduled Ukrainian vacation claims a spokesman for my Kremlin I’m claiming from the Kremlin. There was a purge last night, like old times, in the Kremlin.

Suspecting a mole, or worse, moles in the Kremlin, I’m postponing my invasion trainings;. There was a purge last night in the Kremlin that has me fondly recalling, fun old times had, in Russia’s Kremlin. There was a bloody purge last night, in my Stalinist, Kremlin.

To invade? Or not? And those aren’t the only question. Vlad knows not what to do, nor when. He ain’t got no faith in no books. He respects no law. He’d been set to attack on Wednesday when Joe called it correctly and he’d had to go with a contingency plan B for us.

Let distractions not distract us. Heed my words. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. It shan’t be easy for us. Compared to what’s coming, pandemics are a walk in the park. Lest we forget: An asteroid speeds, straight at us.

For ghosts, call ghostbusters. But if ye’ve got aliens and asteroids then it behooves ye to call me. No ghostbuster can help ye. Only I can do this. Headed for a climax, Vlad reconsiders. For the moment, his feet colder, he’ll back off Ukraine, albeit, temporarily.

To invade — or not? It’s not, the only question. Vlad knows not what to do, nor when. He ain’t got no faith in 
no books; nor no laws of nations. Set to attack today but when American intelligence predicted an attack today, Wednesday, Vlad went with Plan B.

INFORMATION’S DISINFORMATION

The Scriptures seem unanimous. Everything that happens is and was, predetermined. That’s not to say, however, that a portion of everything that ever happens, are interventions, ad hoc and miraculous, in nature. Almost everything — is predetermined.

‘Tis what ’tis. Except for extraordinary situations, everything that happens is predetermined. However, not that’s not to say that a portion of everything that ever happens are interventions ad hoc and miraculous. Almost everything — is predetermined.

‘Tis what ’tis. Except for extraordinary situations, everything that happens is predetermined. That’s not to say that a small portion of everything that ever happens, are interventions ad hoc; interventions, miraculous. Almost everything — is predetermined.

Except for extraordinary situations, almost everything that happens is predetermined. However, that’s not to say that a small part of everything that ever happens aren’t interventions ad hoc and miraculous. Almost everything — is predetermined.

Postpone by 24 hours my invasion. Postpone the invasion for 24 hours. Alternatively, postpone my invasion training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion of the Ukraine by 24 hours or postpone it, indefinitely.

Postpone by 24 hours my invasion of the Ukraine. Postpone the invasion, temporarily. Alternatively, postpone the training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion training operation of the Ukraine by a day, or postpone it, indefinitely.

Let distractions not distract us. Heed my words. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. It’s because my innovation is novel and it’ll be an exciting new way to reach like minded citizens, for whatever purpose may unite them.

In all modesty I dare say my innovation is an entirely new way to communicate and much more than it seems. And it’s even more metaphysically than that. It’s an exciting new way to reach like minded citizens for whatever purpose — may unite them.

Weird science; the universes; the Big Bang; and everything thereafter that thereafter’s, happened. How weird is that? How weird is this? And how weird does it have to get, before ye start, to get if? What’s happening is all about — our purpose.

How weird does it have to get before ye start to get if? What’s happening on Earth is all about purpose; not as much His, as ours. Of love — and justice — He is the fountainhead. Praise Him. He is the reason — and He’s the why — of our purpose.

Weird science; the universes; the Big Bang. How weird is that? How weird is this? And how weird does it have to get before that conscience kicks in? What’s happening is all about purpose. And of course, as ye know, everything that happens is (and was) — predetermined.

As ye know, everything that ever happens is (and was) — predetermined. The Scriptures seem unanimous as to that. Everything that ever happens is (and was), predetermined. It’s a mystery; how it is that everything that happens is and was — predetermined.

How weird does it have to get before we start to get it? This is about purpose. He is the reason and He is the why. How weird is it that part of everything that happens is intervention, ad hoc. Near everything, is predetermined. ‘Tis what ‘tis, I’ve determined.

Weird science; the universes; the Big Bang. How weird is that? How weird is this? And how weird does it have to get before that conscience kicks in? What’s happening is all about purpose. And of course, as ye know, everything that happens is (and was) — predetermined.

UKRAINE RUSSIA TAIWAN TAIPEI AND CHINA

Except for extraordinary situations everything that happens is, in the usual, predetermined. Only a tiny proportion of everything that happens is intervention, ad hoc. By His Grace, everything is predetermined. ‘Tis what ‘tis — ‘Tis what ‘tis.

Excepting extraordinary situations, everything that happens is, in the usual, predetermined. Only a tiny proportion of everything that happens is intervention, ad hoc. By His Grace, everything’s predetermined. ‘Tis what ‘tis — That’s what it is.

To invade — or not? It’s not the only question. Vlad knows not what to do — nor when. He ain’t got no faith in no books nor no laws of nations. Having been all set to attack yesterday, when Joe called it correctly, Vlad had to go, reluctantly, with a Plan B.

Plan B; it’s the contingency plan Putin made up at the last minute to counter the impression that would be created were he to act in accord with Joe Biden’s prediction. Amen. Let it be, not. Put off the invasion for 24 hours. Amen. Let it so be.

TwittereZe may be for humanity the key to its coming transformation. It’s because my innovation is an new way to communicate; a new way to connect. It’s a new way to reach; new way to connect with the like minded, postponing the invasion.

Would that it were. Amen. Let it be. Plan B; it’s the contingency plan Putin made up at the last minute to counter the impression that in all likelihood would be created were he to act in accord with Joe Biden’s intelligent, intelligence, prediction.

Postpone by 24 hours my invasion. Postpone the invasion for 24 hours. Alternatively, postpone my invasion training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion of the Ukraine by 24 hours or postpone it, indefinitely.

Postpone by 24 hours my invasion of the Ukraine. Postpone the invasion, temporarily. Alternatively, postpone the training operation, indefinitely. Postpone my invasion training operation of the Ukraine by a day, or postpone it, indefinitely.

Let distractions not distract us. Heed my words. TwittereZe may be for humanity a key to its coming transformation. It’s because my innovation is novel and it’ll be an exciting new way to reach like minded citizens, for whatever purpose may unite them.

In all modesty I dare say my innovation is an entirely new way to communicate and much more than it seems. And it’s even more metaphysically than that. It’s an exciting new way to reach like minded citizens for whatever purpose — may unite them.

Weird science; the universes; the Big Bang; and everything thereafter that thereafter’s, happened. How weird is that? How weird is this? And how weird does it have to get, before ye start, to get if? What’s happening is all about — our purpose.

How weird does it have to get before ye start to get if? What’s happening on Earth is all about purpose; not as much His, as ours. Of love — and justice — He is the fountainhead. Praise Him. He is the reason — and He’s the why — of our purpose.

Weird science; the universes; the Big Bang. How weird is that? How weird is this? And how weird does it have to get before that conscience kicks in? What’s happening is all about purpose. And of course, as ye know, everything that happens is (and was) — predetermined.

As ye know, everything that ever happens is (and was) — predetermined. The Scriptures seem unanimous as to that. Everything that ever happens is (and was), predetermined. It’s a mystery; how it is that everything that happens is and was — predetermined.

WHO YA GONNA CALL?

For ghosts, call ghostbusters. But if ye’ve got aliens and asteroids then it behooves ye to call me. No ghostbuster can help ye. Only I can do this. Headed for a climax, Vlad reconsiders. For the moment, his feet colder, he’ll back off Ukraine, albeit, temporarily.

To invade, or not? That, is the question. Witness rules, regulations and international law. We Russians; we’re quite extraordinary; especially me, their Agent, 45-47. I’ve been an American and I’ve been a Russian; but I love my Motherland Russia, especially.

I’ve been an American and I’ve been a Russian but I love my Motherland Russia, especially; I am the American amongst Vlad’s guys; we’re the cabal that governs the Earth and its constituent nations. But I’ve had revelations and epiphanies. Vlad’s got to go. It’s up to me.

For ghosts, call ghostbusters. But if ye’ve got asteroids and aliens then it behooves ye to call me. For the moment, with his feet gone cold and his nerves shot, he’s backing off his massive Ukraine training. Vlad’s got to go. And it’s up to me.

I’m an American and a Russian but I love my Motherland Russia, above all nations. Mother Russia; she’s in Vlad’s hands now. Russia’s in the clutches of Vladimir Putin.
But Putin’s got to go. And, in my opinion, it’s up to me. It’s all up to me.

To invade — or not? That, is the question. Witness, the law of the nations; the so-called international law. I’m Agent 45-47. I’ve been an American and I’ve been a Russian. I love my Motherland Russia tho, more than America — my once, native, country.

It should be needless to say that I’m feeling rather torn about Vlad. And not just him. I’m feeling torn about what’s happening in the Ukraine and whether to sooner act sooner than later. And whether I should overthrow, Vlad Putin, TwittereZely, most implausibly.

Lest dear lector’s forgotten: TwittereZe may be for humanity the key to its coming transformation. It’s because my innovation is an altogether new way to communicate; a new way to connect; a new way toand to learn to connect, more effectively.

In the meantime, back on Earth, in the Ukraine, Vladimir dithers. He knows not what to do. And he’s got no faith in no holy books. Witness rules, regulations and even laws; directions directed at men, hath little or no effect on us. We men; we’re quite extraordinary.

To invade or not. That is the question. Vlad knows not what to do. And he ain’t got no faith in no holy books
Witness rules, regulations and even laws; directions directed at men, hath little or no effect on us. We men; we’re quite extraordinary; me, especially.

We Homos; we really are quite extraordinary. Me especially in all humility, I might add. Indeed I’ll add, in all humility, it’s in my chromosomes; that is to say, it’s in my genes. Only seemingly incredibly, there’s a distinct gene for hubris, only seemingly, incredibly.

Scientists say they’ve mapped the entire human genome. I beg therefore, to disagree. Believe it or not, there’s a specific gene for hubris. It’s a gene site that scientists haven’t yet identified on our chromosomes; that is to say that my hubris is in my genes, genetically.

For ghosts, call ghostbusters. But if ye’ve got aliens and asteroids then it behooves ye to call me. No ghostbuster can help ye. Only I can do this. Headed for a climax, Vlad reconsiders. For the moment, his feet colder, he’ll back off Ukraine, albeit, temporarily.

To invade — or not? It’s not, the only question. Vlad knows not what to do, nor when. He ain’t got no faith in
no books; nor no laws of nations. Set to attack today but when American intelligence predicted an attack today, Wednesday, Vlad went with Plan B.

WORD GAME — WAR GAMES — WEDNESDAY

In the future Art’s from, TwittereZe’s taken its place in the pantheon of word games with crosswords and Wordle. True, an asteroid cometh. But these days are no last days. In our lunar soirées, we get down to business; there’s no playing of games.

I know that because in lunar soirées, Art and I and Vlad’s guys get down to brass tacks; what’s best for business? There’s no game playing. In the future Art’s from, TwittereZe’s taken its place, with crosswords and Wordle, in the pantheon, of word games.

What’s best for us is best for business. There’s no playing games. I know that because in lunar soirées, Art and I debate what’s best for business and what’s best for us. Where Art’s from, at a premium is ever more time for the playing of ever more games.

In lunar soirées, Vlad’s guys and I debate what’s best for business. In the future, at a premium is ever more time for the playing of ever more games. What’s best for us is best for business. There’ll be no playing then of these counterproductive, geopolitical war games.

In the future at a premium is more time for the playing of games. What’s best for us is best for business. No playing neo-war games in yer grandkids’ futures and no geopolitical war games. But it’ll only happen if ye keep yer wits about ye; for an asteroid, doth come.

What’s best for us is best for business. There’ll be no playing of war games in yer grandkids’ futures; and no more geopolitical, war games. But it’ll only happen if ye keep yer wits about ye; for an asteroid doth come. Our transformation — doth come.

Comes an asteroid strike; far more than a mere possibility, it’s virtually, a mathematical certainty. NASA, I dare say, deserves its fair share of the blame for our lack of preparedness. An asteroid strike is a certainty; and from out of the sun, especially.

In the meantime, back on Earth, in the Ukraine, Vladimir dithers. He knows not what to do. And he’s got no faith in no holy books. Witness rules, regulations and even laws; directions directed at men, hath little or no effect on us. We men; we’re quite extraordinary.

To invade or not. That is the question. Vlad knows not what to do. And he ain’t got no faith in no holy books
Witness rules, regulations and even laws; directions directed at men, hath little or no effect on us. We men; we’re quite extraordinary; me, especially.

We Homos; we really are quite extraordinary. Me especially in all humility, I might add. Indeed I’ll add, in all humility, it’s in my chromosomes; that is to say, it’s in my genes. Only seemingly incredibly, there’s a distinct gene for hubris, only seemingly, incredibly.

Believe it or not, there’s a specific gene for hubris. It’s a gene site that scientists haven’t yet identified on our chromosomes; that is to say that my hubris is in my genes. Scientists say they’ve mapped the entire human genome. I beg therefore, to disagree.

Scientists say they’ve mapped the entire human genome. I beg to disagree. There must be a specific gene for hubris. It’s a gene site that scientists haven’t yet on our chromosomes, identified. How could there not be a gene for hubris? How could that possibly be?

To invade or not? That is the question. Vlad knows not what to do. And he ain’t got no faith in no holy books, nohow. Witness rules, regulations and even laws; directions directed at men, hath little effect on us. We men; we’re quite extraordinary; especially me.

For ghosts, call ghostbusters. But if ye’ve got aliens and asteroids then it behooves ye to call me. No ghostbuster can help ye. Only I can do this. Headed for a climax, Vlad reconsiders. For the moment, his feet colder, he’ll back off Ukraine, albeit, temporarily.

WORD GAMES

The Taiwan Straight is a 180 km, 110 mile wide straight, separating Taiwan, from continental Asia (read China). The strait is part of the South China Sea and connects to the East China Sea to the north. At its narrowest, the Straight‘s 130 km, or 81 miles, wide.

At its narrowest the Taiwan Straight’s just 81 miles wide. Taiwan’s just a hop, skip and a jump from nearby China. It’s far, if walking, swimming or triple-jumping there but Chinese pilots fly there in minutes. Chasms lie between them. Nonetheless, the Straight‘s, not wide.

The Straight‘s not wide. At its narrowest, the Straight’s just 81miles wide. Taiwan’s just a hop, skip and a jump from China. It’s far, if swimming or triple-jumping there; but the mainland Chinese pilots fly there in minutes. Great chasms lie, between the sides.

The unexpectedly rapid advance of the Communist Peoples Liberation Army in 1949 drove the Chinese Nationalist government’s retreat across the Taiwan Strait. There’s a great chasm between the two sides. And the Straight‘s — not wide.

Cross-Straight relations in this context refers not to the relationship between two heterosexual individuals. Rather, it refers to two political entities separated by the straight and not so narrow 81 mile-wide straight known as the Taiwan Straight.

Cross-Straight relations in this context refers not to the relationship between two heterosexual individuals. Rather, it refers to two political entities separated by the straight and not so narrow 81 mile-wide straight known as the Taiwan Straight.

The Taiwan Straight; a flashpoint even hotter than the Ukraine; hotter ultimately than India’s multiple flashpoints and Israel’s with Iran; and Wahhābī Saudi Arabia. The Taiwan Straight; a flashpoint is The Taiwan Straight. Our course through the Ukraine’s straight.

The Taiwan Straight; a flashpoint even hotter than the Ukraine; hotter ultimately than India’s multiple flashpoints and Israel’s with Iran; and Wahhābī Saudi Arabia. The Taiwan Straight; a flashpoint is The Taiwan Straight. Our course through the Ukraine’s straight.

A course through the Ukraine has been charted. But it’s a flashpoint hotter even than the Ukraine; it’s a flashpoint hotter ultimately than Asian India’s multiple flashpoints; Israel’s with Iran and with Wahhābī Saudi Arabia. And I’m recording it, for posterity.

A course through the Ukraine has been charted. But it’s a flashpoint hotter even than the Ukraine; it’s a flashpoint hotter ultimately than Asian India’s multiple flashpoints; Israel’s with Iran and with Wahhābī Saudi Arabia. And I’m recording it, for posterity.

The Straight’s a flashpoint hotter ultimately than Asian India’s multiple flashpoints and Israel’s with Iran and with Wahhābī Saudi Arabia. I’m recording it for posterity. I’m recording it to record history. Most importantly, I’m writing it — TwittereZely — poetically.

That’s not to predict with any certainty what’s gonna happen. Nobody can. But I alone can kind of tell what’s gonna happen. Be thee tho, forewarned, not alarmed. An asteroid cometh. Still, there’s no way these days shall be, no last days. That — I promise thee.

An asteroid cometh. But there’s no way these days shall be, no last days. I promise thee that. I know that because, in lunar soirées, Art’s told me that in the future he’s from, TwittereZe’s taken its place with crosswords and Wordle in the pantheon of word games.

In the future Art’s from, TwittereZe’s taken its place with crosswords, Wordle in the pantheon of word games. An asteroid cometh. But these days shall be, no last days. I know that because in lunar soirées, we get down to business; there’s no playing, of games.

THE SCAPEGOATS

I’m looking at ye Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mo. This is new-age satire. Interference by the state in the evolution of citizens, in the state’s official name and in its official ire, shine glaring spotlights upon yourselves, in my new-world, new-age, satire.

In the usual case the metaphysical goulash that is fate transforms newly born citizens, over time, into some shade of extremist. I’m looking at ye, Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mohammed. And I shit ye not. This is my new real, new-age, new-world, satire.

Here’s looking at ye Vladimir, Xi, Kim and Mohammed. In this new-age satire. I hypothesize: Undue interference in the evolution of citizens may shine a spotlight, via my TwittereZe, satire via metaphysical, cyberspace; an algorithmically derived, satire.

This is new-age satire. Innovative; perhaps edgy enough to excite the youth. Designed to be used in real-time TwittereZe‘s designed to allow its users to be nimble interactive. Getting the general public into government may require a coming of age, satire.

We lack the societal skills of forbears as recent as our grandparents. Nobody shakes hands anymore; and sometimes we struggle with perceptions perhaps drawn, unfairly. Or maybe it really is rude not to engage a gaze with a gaze, if one’s satire’s, political.

Nobody shakes hands anymore; and sometimes we struggle with perceptions perhaps drawn, unfairly. Or maybe it really is rude not to engage a gaze with a gaze, if one’s satire’s, political. Of course, it’s rude not to engage a gaze with a gaze, political.

Of course it’s rude not to engage a gaze with a gaze, political. And so people generally look one another in the eye when they speak; unless they’re engaged on their phones with another, in which case ye might be ignored altogether. That’s not unusual.

Folks look one another in the eye when they speak; unless they’re engaged on their phones with one another, in which case one might be ignored altogether. That’s not unusual. On Earth, it’s not unusual to be ignored altogether, in the usual.

On Earth, it’s not unusual to even wish to be ignored altogether; to be completely ignored. That’s the way it is, I imagine, for Myanmar’s Rohingya and for India’s Dalit, Untouchables. Men like to exalt their kings and persecute, their scapegoats.

Men like to exalt their kings and persecute their scapegoats. In fact, I imagine that for Myanmar’s Rohingya and for India’s Dalit Untouchables, those that consider themselves their inferior’s betters, better hope, they never become, anyone’s, scapegoat.

It’s not unusual to wish to be another. That’s the way it is, ironically, for the Rohingya and India’s too untouchable, Dalits. Witness Myanmar’s military, Rohingya, Indians and Dalits. The law’s a brutal weapon in the hands of the military, Myanmarese.

Rules, regulations and laws will be flouted on the mainland in China, across from Taiwan. After the asteroid. After the riots. Across the Straight of Taiwan, rule the Han Chinese. Still, the Han Chinese would rule, if they could, the Taiwanese.

After the asteroid and the food riots against Xi and the Communist Party Xi will at long last be disarmed by his own people; with an assist from an asteroid and the people of Taiwan, Xi will, at long last, be disarmed by his brother people, the Taiwanese Tide.

The Taiwan Straight is a 180-kilometer (110 mi)-wide straight, separating Taiwan, from continental Asia (read China). The strait is part of the South China Sea and connects to the East China Sea to the north. At its narrowest, it’s just 130 km (81 mi) — wide.

TAIWAN BURNS COLD

Plotting the auto-destruction of a species by the destruction of the planet they live upon seems pretty, implausible. Taiwan burns cold. And Hong Kong seems as if, in a rear view mirror. If something seems to be happening, it may be, plausible.

The Ukraine; it’s one of the hottest places on the planet. At at the moment, Taiwan burns colder. But in the minds of Vlad and Xi and in the minds of others, our auto-destruction by destruction of our home planet is off the charts, implausible.

Never mind climate change. Men say more by their acts, Vlad’s guys. Never ye mind in the least, ye brainwashed and distracted Earthlings. Never mind nothing. Leave the thinking and the planning to us. And leave to The Watcher, third-person, poetry.

Leave the thinking to us. Leave thinking and planning to us. And leave to The Watcher, his third-person, poetry. Men say more by their acts than they do with their words. Never mind brainwashed and distracted Earthlings. Mind no one, but me.

Men say more by their acts than they do with their words. Never mind brainwashed, distracted Earthlings.. Only I can successfully unwash the brains, brainwashed by the nation-states, early in lives of citizens. Mind no one, but me.

Be the 1st on yer block to know: Vladimir’s Agent 45-47 minds not brainwashed and distracted Earthlings. No one but me. Only I can unwash brains brainwashed by nation-states. Be 1st on yer block to know. Mind no one, but me.

Never ye mind brainwashed and distracted Earthlings, anyone but me. Only I can successfully unwash the brains, brainwashed by the nation-states, early in lives of citizens. Do as I say; ne’er as I do. On Earth, mind no one, but me.

The nation-states intervene early on in the lives of citizens. Only I can successfully undo the brainwashing most states wash successfully. Only I can do this. No one but me. But belief in my hubris alone shan’t set us — free.

The nation-states intervene early on in the lives of their citizens. Only I can successfully unwash brains, early on, brainwashed by nation-states. But belief in hubris alone, shan’t set us free. Needed also is an abiding cult, of personality.

Early on in the lives of their citizens, the nation-states, in the usual case, intervene. The nation-states in the usual case intervene to transform any newly born citizen into some kind of extremist racist or nationalist for national security.

In the usual case the nation-states transform any newly born citizen into a racist or a nationalist; for national security reasons. Keep in mind, Vlad’s guys; and I’m looking at ye, Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mo. This is new-world, satire.

The nation-states in the usual case intervene to transform any newly born citizen into some shade of extremist zealot, nationalist or racist. I’m looking at ye, Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mohammed. Surreally, this is new-world, satire.

In the usual case the metaphysical goulash that is fate transforms newly born citizens, over time, into some shade of extremist. I’m looking at ye, Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mohammed. I shit ye not. Surreally, this is real, new-world, satire.

I’m looking at ye Vlad, Xi, Kim and Mo. This is my new-world satire. All that interference in the evolution of a citizen in the name and ire of the state; a spotlight upon ye is a new-world satire. All that mind control, comes at a price, in satire.

SCIENTISTS OF FAITH — NOT

Scientists sometimes lack capabilities, mystical. They have no faith in the metaphysical, so to speak. Their lack of it hearkens back to the days of Galileo. In the metaphysical, scientists often, lack faith. An asteroid strike’s, a real, possibility.

An asteroid strike; more than a mere possibility, it’s virtually, a mathematical, certainty. NASA, I must say, deserves its fair share of the blame for our lack of preparedness. An asteroid strike; a certainty; and from out of the sun, especially.

In the meantime in the Ukraine, Vlad knows not what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. My NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. Witness rules, regulations and even laws; any direction directed at men, hath little or no effect on them. Men are ornery.

Direction directed at men hath little or no effect on them if they know they’ve been had. Rules, regulations and laws will be flouted on the mainland, in China, across from Taiwan. Across the Straight of Taiwan, rule the Han Chinese.

Rules, regulations and laws will be flouted on the mainland, in China, across from Taiwan. After the asteroid. After the food riots. Across the Straight of Taiwan, rule the Han Chinese. Still the Han Chinese would rule, the Taiwanese.

After the food riots. After the riots against the Chinese Communist Party Xi will at long last be disarmed by his own people; with an assist from an asteroid and the people of Taiwan. Xi will, at long last be disarmed by his own people, finally.

After the riots against the Party, Xi will have been, at long last, disarmed by his own people; with an assist from an asteroid and the people of Taiwan. Xi will, at long last, be disarmed; with an assist from an asteroid and the Taiwanese.

For the time being, Vlad knows not, what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. No NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my strategy. I know now that they don’t share at all, my brotherly, nexus. I just need some evidence — of duplicity.

Rules, regulations and laws will be flouted on the mainland in China across the Straight from Taiwan. Just across the Straight of Taiwan where rule the Han Chinese; that’s where I expect an impact from an asteroid to produce a tsunami.

Let’s take a page from Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh’s mindfulness book. Peace be upon him. He understood the divine nature of mindfulness. He would have been a great comfort, in a time of great tribulation, to the communist and non-communist, Chinese.

“No mud, no lotus,” states but one of his many brief sayings. A fan of Martin Luther King was Thich Nhat Hanh; and a fan of his, was Martin. No mud, no lotus, says the saying. He would have been a great comfort, in a time of tribulation, to all the peoples, Chinese.

An asteroid strike; more than a mere possibility, it’s virtually, a certainty. NASA, I must say, deserves its fair share of the blame for our total lack of preparedness. An asteroid strike; it’s a certainty; and if out of the sun, especially.

The Ukraine now; it’s one of the hottest places on the planet. Taiwan; at the moment, burns, colder. In the minds of Vlad and Xi and in the minds of too many others, auto-destruction by destruction of the planet — is too implausible.

Ironic; plotting the auto-destruction of a species by the destruction of the planet they live upon seems implausible. Taiwan at the moment burns colder. Hong Kong’s in the rear mirror. If what’s happening in the Ukraine, is happening, it’s plausible.

RUSSIA TRAINS — FOR THE UKRAINE

Vladimir in the Ukraine knows not what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. No NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. I know now that they don’t share, my brotherly, feelings. I just need — proof — of complicity.

Indeed, Vlad knows not what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan/Taipei. No NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. I know now that they don’t share at all my brotherly, nexus. I just need — proof — of culpability.

Evidence of their complicity; possible proof of their culpability. I need evidence of knowledge and states of mind. The Ukraine and Taiwan; two flashpoints on the minds of Vlad and Xi. I’ve got to know, what’s on — their selfish minds.

I need proof of the first-hand knowledge of Vlad and Xi and evidence moreover of their states of mind. The Ukraine and Taiwan; they’re two real flashpoints on the minds of Vlad and Xi. And I’ve got to know what’s on, their avant-garde, minds.

The Ukraine now; it’s one of the hottest places on the planet. Taiwan; at the moment, burns, colder. In the minds of Vlad and Xi and in the minds of too many others, auto-destruction by destruction of the planet — is too implausible.

Ironic; plotting the auto-destruction of a species by the destruction of the planet they live upon seems implausible. Taiwan at the moment doth burn colder. Hong Kong seems in the rear view mirror — But if it’s happening — it’s plausible.

Hong Kong’s in the rear view mirror. But objects in the mirror, manufacturers tell us, are closer than they appear. If ye can see it, it’s closer than it looks. Asteroid strikes. They have happened, already. If it’s happened already — it’s possible.

Objects in yer mirror, the manufacturers tell us, are closer than they appear. If ye can see it, it’s closer than it looks. Asteroid strikes; they have happened already. And if it’s happened already, then it’s highly likely that, it remains — possible.

Objects in yer mirror, manufacturers tell us, are closer than they appear. Hong Kong is in the rear view mirror; so’s Afghanistan. Remember: If ye can see something in yer rear view mirror, it is closer than it looks, almost — most certainly.

Hong Kong’s in rear view mirrors; Afghanistan and the Ukraine are there, also. Objects in yer mirror, are closer than they appear. Remember: If ye can see something in yer rear view mirror, it is certainly, closer than it looks, apparently.

Objects in yer rear view mirror are closer than they appear. If ye can see it, it’s closer than it looks. I’m no prophet. It’s just logical. Asteroid strikes have happened already. And if it has happened in the past, it’s still possible, isn’t it?

Objects in yer rear view mirror are closer than they appear. If ye can see it, it’s closer than it looks. I’m no prophet. It’s just logical. Asteroid strikes have happened already. And if it has happened in the past, it’s still possible, isn’t it?

Scientists sometimes lack capabilities, mystical. They have no faith in the metaphysical, so to speak. Their lack of it hearkens back to the days of Galileo. In the metaphysical, scientists often, lack faith. An asteroid strike’s, a real, possibility.

Indeed in the Ukraine, Vlad knows not, what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. No NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. I know now that they don’t share, my brotherly, feelings. I just need — proof — of culpability.

THE UKRAINE AND TAIWAN

Along with Vlad’s guys, that is to say, Xi, Kim and Mo, the Earth’s most wonderfully, avant-garde leaders, I shall lead the way. I’ve been stricken by feelings I get inside of me when I get ready — for a session for the composition of poetry.

Whoops! Once again, in my haste to speak, I’ve misspoken. Vlad’s guys, my readers know now, appear not to know what to do, upon the end of of their lunar, soiréed, dreams. That’s why — I’ve taken to — tweeting them too — and daily.

That is to say that Vlad’s guys (that is to say), Xi, Kim and Mo, are not, by any stretch of anyone’s imagination, avant-garde. I’ll have to lead the Earth, all by myself. Alone and without Vlad’s guys, I’ll have to lead the Earth by myself, verily.

I’ll have to lead the Earth by myself. I can’t count nor can the planet count on, Vladimir’s, war-like, guys. We can’t count on Vladimir and his guys. I’ll have to lead the Earth’s citizens all by myself. I’ll have to lead us by myself; me and my poetry.

We can’t count on Vlad and his war-like guys. I’ll have to lead the Earth’s citizens all by myself. I’ll have to lead by myself; just me, and my poetry. It is why I spend so much time on content and cadence; inspired’s — a composition, of poetry.

I’ll have to lead the Earth’s citizens all by myself. We can’t count on Vlad and his war-like guys. I’ll lead by myself. As predetermined, just me and my poetry. It is why I spend time on content and cadence; the alchemical composition, of poetry.

Inspired is my poetry. I know now why, but not how. But how doesn’t matter. What only really matters is whether the inspiration is Godly; that is to say that what really matters is whether the inspiration flows from Havona — miraculously.

Vlad appears not to know what to do. It’s why I’ve taken to tweeting them thereafter. And daily. Someone’s future NFTs, won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not any part of my strategy — It’s to have proof — of his complicity.

Vladimir knows not, in the Ukraine, what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. It’s why I’ve taken to tweeting Vlad and Xi. Daily. Someone’s future NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. It’s to have proof — of their complicity.

Vladimir knows not, in the Ukraine, what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. Someone’s future NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. I know now that they don’t share, my brotherly, feelings. I need proof — of complicity.

Mankind knows not on planet Earth what to do. Ditto, Vlad and Xi, in Taiwan and Ukraine. It’s why I’ve taken to tweeting. These future NFTs won’t get Vlad’s guys acting nobly. That’s not my strategy. It’s to have proof — of their complicity.

My tweets I trust may very possibly, outlast me. As collectible’s, they may well be expected to increase in value. They’ll make in the future, for yer family, an investment. And for me; a legacy — To Twitter Diplomacy — add TwittereZe.

Albeit implausible, my tweets, I trust, may very possibly, outlast me. As collectibles, my tweets may be expected to increase in value, should collectors of my opus, see value in them; should collectors in my tweets, value, presciently, see.

Indeed in the Ukraine, Vlad knows not, what to do. Ditto Xi, in Taiwan. No NFTs won’t get them to act nobly. But that’s not my grand strategy. I know now that they don’t share, my brotherly, feelings. I just need — proof — of complicity.

GIBBERISH — DOGGEREL — POETRY

An allegory; an American tall tale story; a 280 character collective, captured; a thought, in time. And theoretically, if one links a series of thoughts like that, the totality of them might make for — gibberish, doggerel, or pure poetry.

Theoretically, if one links a series of thoughts like that, then the total of them might make in the usual case, gibberish, doggerel, or in a most unusual case — pure poetry. Theoretically — my poetry, potentially, transcendental, may be.

Poetry, potentially transcendental, may be. That that may be may be transcendental in and of itself. Verily, I’ve been stricken by feelings I get inside of me when I ready myself for a session — oft in soirée, for the composition, of poetry.

In André Breton inspired lunar soirées, I do my meet and greets; with contemporaries and with history‘s luminaries; men like André Robert Breton. André‘s known best as the co-founder, leader, and the principal theorist, of surreality.

André‘s known best as a founder of the French Surrealist movement. Surrealist automatism is a method of art-making in which the artist stifles his control over the artistic process, in that way ceding, to the unconscious mind — great sway.

Surrealist artists, most notably, André Masson, adapted to art work, the then new and avant-garde, automatic writing method of André Breton. And Rodrigues called on artists to “serve as [the people’s] avant-garde, in his day.

Rodrigues called on artists to “serve as [the people’s] avant-garde”, insisting that “the power of the arts is the most immediate and fastest way” to social, political and economic reform. Breton and Rodrigues were ahead of their day.

Breton and Rodrigues, some say, were ahead of their day. Who can say with any certainty what’s happening? Believe it or not, I can. I can tell ye what’s really happening. Be forewarned. Be not alarmed — These are not no — last days.

Who can say with any certainty at all what’s really happening? As a matter of fact, I can. I can tell what’s happening. It’s hard to say. Be tho, forewarned not alarmed. These be no, last days. These are not, no — last days.

That’s not to predict with any certainty what’s gonna happen. Nobody can. But I alone can kind of tell what’s gonna happen. Be thee tho, forewarned, not alarmed. An asteroid cometh. Still, there’s no way these be — no last days.

No one knows what’s gonna happen. Nobody can. But I alone can kind of tell what’s gonna happen. Be thee forewarned, not alarmed. An asteroid indeed doth cometh. But nobody has said, nothing at all about — no last days.

Nobody‘s said nothing about no last days. The Surrealist school artists, the avant-garde then, are old school now. Nonetheless I call upon the artists to serve as the people’s avant-garde once again. As our avant-garde, I’ll lead the way.

I’ll lead the way. Surrealism’s automatism is how I as artist can suppress my conscious mind’s control over the artistic process and in that way cede to the unconscious mind, its way. As our most wonderful and avant-garde, I’ll lead truly.

Along with Vlad’s guys, that is to say, Xi, Kim and Mo, the Earth’s most wonderfully, avant-garde leaders, I shall lead the way. I’ve been stricken by feelings I get inside of me when I get ready — for a session for the composition of poetry.

FOURTEEN HALF COUPLET VERSES

An innovative bold new way to communicate is TwittereZe. Fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses. And by just maximizing the potential of the base, one maximizes the potential of the enterprise that is — TwittereZe.

By just maximizing the potential of the base, one maximizes the potential of the enterprise. An innovative bold new way to communicate is TwittereZe. Fourteen half couplet verses, yield, seven, couplet verses. And they tell — a story.

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And the beholders viewing TwittereZe nowadays and those that shall behold it in the days upcoming, together behold in me, a man beholden to no one. With TwittereZe, anyone can tell — a story.

Imagine. Imagine then how ye might write yer own story. Beauty they say lies in the eye of the beholder. Anyone can write a beautiful story. But beholders writing TwittereZely may write best sellers depending not at all, on a pedigree.

Imagine then how ye might write yer own story. Then, just do it. Don’t mope with yer head in yer hands. Rather, gather yer wits. Cut them in bits. Add to yer wit bits, an uber-generous portion of tragedy and some comedy as well, poetically.

Then just do it. Gather yer wits. Cut them in bits. And add to yer wit bits, a generous portion of tragedy. Add some comedy as well. And accent, yer spiciest words, with irony. Nothing accents, and spices up a story, quite like irony.

It’s time to learn some basics about Arthur’s TwittereZe; to learn to tweet to blog a book; to save a planet and all the Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like architecture’s —building blocks, it’s like, Leggo-like, poetry.

To learn to tweet to blog a book to save a planet and all the surface Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like Leggo’s fun building blocks, it’s all about rebuilding a new society upon the old one. It’s about rebuilding, totally.

It’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how, to pen poetry.
280 character tweets, serially linked, may well compose content as brief as a short story or as long as the Hindu Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita; and the Greek, The Illiad and The Odyssey.

To save a planet and all upon it. That will take writing a book, edited from a blog, written in TwittereZe format from fully casted, 280 character tweets, serially linked. And recall that content is to cadence as melody is to harmony.

Imagine writing yer own story. Then just do it. Gather yer wits. Cut them in bits. And add to yer wit bits, a generous portion of tragedy. And add some comedy as well. Make yer comedy, funny. And accent, yer spiciest words, with irony.

Or not. Have it, as they say at Burger King, yer way. Take Xi. Xi likes to write, ”I will never again mention freedom nor will I ever mention, ever again, Tiananmen.” Xi likes writings assigned, as punishment. I prefer, an old-fashioned, allegory.

And so it hath come to pass that what seems like an old-fashioned allegory; that seems, as well, like an old-fashioned, American, tall tale, hath come to us disguised in elements of fiction. It seems to make sense, nonfictionally.

An allegory; an American tall tale story; a 280 character collective, captured; a thought, in time. And theoretically, if one links a series of thoughts like that, the totality of them, might make for — gibberish, doggerel or pure, poetry.

ON POTENTIAL ENERGY

The potential of TwittereZe may be, God willing, transcendent. God willing, the asteroid colliding with us imparts to us an impetus to transcend. God willing, we’ll overcome what’s keeping us, from evolving into — a truly, global, community.

An innovative, brand new way to communicate; fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses, per blog chapter. And by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

After the asteroid; after the hue and cry, after the hubbub, more than ever; we’ll need to have calmer, more visionary heads, go on to prevail. Transcendental’s the potential, when potential energy is converted into — kinetic energy.

Societally, transcendental, in effect may be, the potential, when vast stores of potential energy are converted, metaphysically, into kinetic energy. Transcendental is the potential when potential energy’s converted into kinetic energy.

My discovery is an innovative brand new way to communicate. It’s more a riddle than a puzzle anyway. TwittereZe. But — by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

In tens of thousands of tweets in excess of his tweets still on record, Art experimented with, Twitter’s algorithm, wondering how best to incorporate into a tweet, a letter. Art found that way, a sweet spot. In lunar soirée, Art told me.

Having discovered in Twitter’s algorithm on the moon‘s surface, sweet spots, Art composed an epic poem. Drafting it on Twitter, he edited it on WordPress. Art found that way, on Twitter and WordPress, sweet, hot spots — Art told me.

It’s come to pass. Even as the Feds close in; even as our nations fail. In fulfillment of what Art and I presume to be our purposes, Art’’s getting ready for a long trip to Heaven. There’s no shortcuts; no wormholes, to reason to hurry.

Even as the Feds close in on me and even as our nations fail, in fulfillment of what Art and I presume to be our purposes, Art’’s getting ready for a long trip to Heaven. There shall be no shortcuts; no wormholes; no need, to hurry.

When on yer way to Heaven; ye can rest then. In the meantime, there’s no time to rest; for many, there’s literally no place to rest and sometimes, there’s no space even in, really cramped, places. There’s no time to rest now. We’ve got to hurry.

My discovery is a brand new way to reach out. Fourteen of my half couplet verses compose, their seven, couplet verses. That maximizes the potential of my 280 character, collective. That’s the structure and content — of TwittereZe.

That’s the structure and content of TwittereZe. That’s the structure and content; the essence, physically, and metaphysically, of the larger, metaphysical. That’s a structure and content that hints, of the great purpose, of TwittereZe.

TwittereZe‘s potential may be by God’s Grace, transcendent. God willing, the asteroid colliding with us, imparts to us an impetus, to transcend. God willing, we’ll overcome what’s keeping us, from evolving, into a truly global, community.

An innovative brand new way, to communicate; fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses, per blog chapter. And by maximizing the potential of the base one maximizes the overall potential of the enterprise, that is TwittereZe’s.

I’VE MADE A GREAT DISCOVERY

My discovery is a new way to communicate; fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses, per blog chapter. And by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

The potential of TwittereZe may be, God willing, transcendent. God willing, the asteroid colliding with us imparts to us the impetus to transcend. God willing, we’ll overcome what’s keeping us, from evolving into a truly global, community.

God willing an asteroid colliding with us imparts to us the impetus to transcend. God willing, I’ll learn ye. I’ll learn ye what in the hell’s really happening; what’s keeping us from evolving us, into more of us. Maximize, yer potential energy.

Maximize, yer great potential energy; after the asteroid; after a hue and cry. After the hubbub dies down, more than ever, we’ll need to have calmer, more visionary heads, go on to prevail. Transcendental’s, the potential, of TwittereZe.

This isn’t about good guys and bad guys. It’s about transcendence; from confusion. What’s being talked about is not central to our being. It’s what’s not being talked about that’s so critically key to the mining of potential energy.

What’s important is what’s not being talked to about. Like things, metaphysical. ‘Tis oft difficult for us to accept what another is saying. Be wise; wise up and heed me. We would be wise to get metaphysical. ‘Tis a matter of — alchemy.

We’d be wise to get metaphysical. ‘Tis a matter of alchemy. What’s important is not what’s being talked about. Like things, metaphysical. It’s hard for us to accept what others may say. Be wise, therefore — Rise up and — follow me.

My discovery; it’s a veritable, fountain of gifts. A new way to teach; a new way to learn. The research shows and everyone knows why a jingle sells and a sonnet woos. TwittereZe; it’s an innovative, new way to communicate, easily.

Discovered by Art, Art’s coined as ’TwittereZe’, his discovery and Art has shared his discovery with me. I must say, it’s a discovery, game-changing. A game-changer may be TwittereZe. A game-changer may be TwittereZe — maybe.

A game-changer may be TwittereZe. As research shows; as everyone knows; it’s why jingles sell and sonnets woo. Jingles and sonnets; they’re metaphysical things. A game-changer may be, Art’s, TwittereZe. Thank God for — TwittereZe.

My discovery is an innovative brand new way to communicate. And more a riddle than a puzzle anyway. TwittereZe. But — by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

In tens of thousands of tweets in excess of his tweets still of record, Art experimented with, Twitter’s algorithm, wondering how best to incorporate into a tweet, a letter. Art found that way, a sweet spot. In soirée, Art so, told me.

Innovative’s my new way of communication. fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses, per blog chapter. And by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

The potential of TwittereZe may be, God willing, transcendent. God willing, the asteroid colliding with us imparts to us an impetus to transcend. God willing, we’ll overcome what’s keeping us, from evolving into — a truly, global, community.

Innovative’s my new way of communication. Fourteen half couplet verses form seven couplet verses per blog chapter. And it’s by maximizing a 280 character collective, that one may maximize the potential, of TwittereZe.

EVOLUTION — IT’S A GOOD THING

Evolution; it’s a good thing. But it’s slow. Across the universes, it’s not, uncommon. It is to be, expected. No one ever promised anyone, a rose garden. Once landed upon the Earth, one most ominously fated. Upon the Earth, landed Satan.

Actually once again I lie. Evolution, indeed is a good thing. And it’s slow I wrote moments ago in that last half verse. I’m much too hard on myself. My allies like my Big Lie. Still, my lies are nowhere anywhere nearly as big — as Satan’s.

Once landed upon Earth, one, ominously, fated. Upon the Earth, landed Satan. And the rest is history. Or not. History is written by Victors. My name’s Don. I know Satan. In our DNA, is Satan. And the rest is history, however, implausible.

Upon the Earth, landed Satan. And the rest is history. Or not. History’s written by Victors. My name’s Donald. I know Satan. In my DNA, is Satan. The rest is history, however implausible. The rest is history, no matter, how implausible.

Implausible’s my story. It seems hard to believe. Indeed, it’s oft difficult for most of us to accept, what another is saying. It doesn’t matter, what’s being talked about. But achtung! — look out if, what’s talked about, is central — to one’s being.

Achtung! Look out! Look out for yerself. Do look out for yerself if what’s ever being talked about is central to yer being; if ye’ve got really strong feelings and opinions about it. Look out! —What’s being talked about’s, central — to being.

What’s being talked about is central to being. More important tho’s, what’s not being talked about. Things physical are in context with things metaphysical like alchemy. This isn’t about good guys and bad guys. It’s about transcendence.

What’s important is what’s not being talked to about. Like things, metaphysical. ‘Tis oft difficult for us to accept what another is saying. Be wise; wise up and heed me. We’d be wise to get metaphysical. ‘Tis a matter of transcendence.

‘Tis a matter of transcendence. Metaphysical are, universal things. All matters universal are, by their nature, metaphysical things. All things physical are but the infrastructure of things universal. Metaphysical are all things, I’ll bet.

Upon Earth, landed Satan. The rest is history. Or not. History is written by its author. My name’s Don. No one knows, I know Satan. In our DNA, possibly, is Satan’s. The rest is not history tho; not yet, at least — I haven’t — written it yet.

Everyone knows I don’t like to read other than about myself. The histories I read get it wrong, anyway. I’m a visual guy; I prefer pictures. Still, they say history’s written by the victors. I am a natural to write it but I haven’t written it yet.

History they say, gets written by the victors. I am a natural therefore to write it. “I haven’t written it yet,” I wrote in that last half verse. I haven’t written it yet, I wrote. But that was then and this is now. Still, I haven’t written it — yet.

I haven’t published the history of the Earth in book form yet. On the other hand, every time I press on submit I publish yet another fragment; another fraction of the history of the Earth. And who’d a thunk it? I’ve made a great, discovery.

My discovery is a new way to communicate; fourteen half couplet verses yield seven couplet verses, per blog chapter. And by maximizing the potential of the base, 280 character collective, one maximizes the potential, of TwittereZe.

ON INTERACTIVITY

Even more than Wordle; even more than love, what the world needs now is Art’s TwittereZe. I give ye my word. Interactivity; it’s for force-multiplying our words. It’s bound to be key to evolving; changing our behavior, and words.

Interactivity; it’s for force-multiplying our words. It’s bound to be a key to evolving by its changing of our behavior and words. Next to love, what the world needs now is Arthur Everman’s TwittereZe. I give thee — my word.

Key to renewing our evolution is modifying our behavior, along with our words. But for the modification of behavior much much more than Wordle and Sudoku’s what the world needs now. It’s TwittereZe. Praise His Almighty Word.

Changing our behavior along with our words. Something more than Wordle and Sudoku’s what the world needs now. Second only to love is TwittereZe. And third’s imagination. Only love and imagination, humble, TwittereZe’s, words.

The key to evolving’s, changing behavior, along, with our words. More than Wordle and Sudoku, what the world needs now is, second and third to love is TwittereZe. I give thee my word. Third only to imagination may be TwittereZe’s words.

Second only to love is TwittereZe. And third only to imagination may be TwittereZe’s words. Key to evolving is changing our behavior along with our words. Do as I say and not as I do. Wordle and Sudoku pale, next to, my scripted words.

I’m no prophet. Everyone knows that. No one knows tho whether my words are scripted or not; nobody that is except for The Watcher and Art. They’re suspected authors. They can’t be trusted. Or can they? Art especially, looks shifty.

No one knows whether my words are scripted or not; nobody except for The Watcher and Art. But they’re suspected authors. They can’t be trusted. Or can they? There is power, in words. There is power in words. And uncertainty.

There is power in words. And uncertainty, in the usual; all the more so now that I, Agent 45-47, follow a somehow marked, and traced, path; it’s the trajectory of a star-crossed destiny; a fiery trajectory; and a destiny, ill — and well, fated.

Both ill and well fated has been the fate of the Earth. And it’s been, in retrospect, a very mixed bag, actually. It’s a good thing that no one ever promised us a rose garden. It’s a good thing as well — my trajectory, was previously, fated.

It’s a good thing that no one ever promised us a rose garden. It’s a good thing as well that life on Earth is a struggle to make a living; oft, to live. Both ill and well fated has been the fate of the Earth. Just as it was, once upon a time, fated.

Both ill and well fated has been the fate of the Earth. That’s not uncommon; that’s what’s to be expected of both created beings and planets alike, across the universes. On Earth tho, landed Satan, once upon a time, as previously, fated.

It’s a good thing to evolve — but it’s slow. It’s not uncommon, across the universes. It’s to be expected. No one ever promises a rose garden. Then landed upon Earth once upon a time, one who was once upon a time, so ominously, fated.

It’s a good thing to evolve — but it’s slow. It’s not uncommon, across the universes. It’s to be expected. No one ever promises a rose garden. Then landed upon Earth once upon a time, one who was once upon a time, so ominously, fated.

FORCE MULTIPLICATION

Implausibly but only seemingly incredibly the bluebirds ask me, “What‘s happening?” Serially tweeting and blogging my answers, inviting the comments and questions of others; inviting thereby interactivity, I force-multiply my words.

‘Tis what ’tis; what’s happening, that is. And so I

tweet even as I blog my answers, inviting the comments and questions of others; inviting the interactivity I need, to force-multiply my words. Interactivity; its forces may multiply my words.

Tweeting even as I blog my answers, inviting the comments and questions of others; inviting thereby, their interactivity. Thereby, I multiply the power of my words; my poetry acts to force multiply, the potential forces, in anyone’s mind.

Make no mistake. My poetry acts as an old-fashioned, force-multiplier. But now, anyone; literally, anyone can write, verse like mine. For I have made a great discovery. It’s that, in Jack’s Twitter’s algorithm, there’s an invaluable mine.

In Jack’s Twitter’s algorithm there’s a mine, still. Still too, an asteroid following this pandemic, might, if it disarms Xi, be worth it. Wordle, Sudoku and crossword puzzles accompany us, whilst we await an asteroid, just passing time.

For rainy days and Sundays, Wordle is for now, thankfully, here to stay. Like crossword puzzles and Sudoku, it’s here to stay. For rainy days and Sundays, God made recreation. God made fun — Abstract is content and cadence and rhyme.

Comes now an asteroid and the Golden Rule. The asteroid may function similarly, in The Almighty’s grand design, as the flood once did, many thousands of years ago. Don’t seem so surprised by a more familiar visitor, this time.

Cometh now, a Golden Rule; after, serial wars; after, an asteroid. Don’t look so alarmed and surprised, by its coming. And do note that the asteroid may function, in the grand design, as the flood once did, once upon a time, that time.

Not incidentally, The New York Times, this week, purchased, Wordle. And I, having bought in to Art’s thinking, think that The New York Times Wordplay editor ought to be brought into this story; an uber fast, fast, developing, story.

Methinks that The New York Times ought be by me made, a proposition. Accordingly, in lieu of offer, I propose that The New York Times, duly consider, TwittereZe. More than even Wordle — the world needs Arthur’s — TwittereZe.

Implausibly but only seemingly incredibly, the bluebirds have asked me, “What‘s happening?” Tweeting and blogging my answers, critically, I invited the comments and questions of others. It’s for force-multiplying, communicable, words.

Interactivity; it’s for force-multiplying our words. Critically, I invited the comments and questions of others. Critically, that shall prove to be, key. Interactivity; it’s for force-multiplying our words. It’s for force-multiplying — peaceful words.

Interactivity; for force-multiplying our words, it shall prove to be key. Implausibly but only but, seemingly incredibly, even more than Wordle, what the world needs now even more than love, is Arthur’s, TwittereZe. I give ye — my word.

Interactivity; for force-multiplying our words, it shall prove to be key. Implausibly but only but, seemingly incredibly, even more than Wordle, what the world needs now even more than love, is Arthur’s, TwittereZe. I give ye — my word.

SYNESTHESIA

In synesthesia, two or more of the senses get crossed. Some see colors when listening to music while others associate tastes with shapes or words with colors. A very small number of synesthetes, like me, can ‘taste’ their words.

Untold is the story of the power of my words. Never before hath a man been so, similarly, privileged; with so many roles, in one story. A common man; an apprentice, president, author, become a dream weaving, purveyor of words.

Synesthetes like me can ‘taste’ our words; and as a malignant narcissist, the range of autism some say I display means I’ve got super powers; super powers, have I. Up until now tho, untold has been the story of the power of my words.

Wordle’s in for now. TwittereZe lags, far behind. Ulysses; ’tis a big thing in my self-drawn, literary circles. One really long winded day in the life of a Dubliner. But my magnum opus is not so limited in scope. Behold the power of my words.

Wordle’s in. TwittereZe lags. And The New York Times has purchased Wordle. More power to the makers of Wordle; and to the Times. More fruitful though might have been, a study of the power of my most powerfully, inspiring, words.

Take Ulysses. One really long winded day in the life of an Irish Dubliner. Mine is an opus more unlimited in scope. Vlad’s chosen one, I’m in line for it all. This is my story; in my own words. And these words, may really be, or not, my words.

That’s another story. Everything will work itself out as we go along so long as I fo just keep on tweeting along, answering a cartoon bluebird’s, question, just making it up as I go along. I’m just making it all up, as I go along; tasting, my words.

Living underground are we synesthetes. Only 4 per cent are we of the general population. Only a very small number of synesthetes, like me, can taste our words. That’s not to say, however, that any of us has ever liked, eating our words.

I for one, won’t eat my words. I’d always rather that someone else, anyone else, eat theirs for me. I can’t, in all honesty, accept responsibility, for anything. I give ye my word on that. My word as ye know is my bond. On that, ye’ve my word.

In all honesty, I can’t accept responsibility for anything. I give ye my word on that. My word, as ye know, is my bond. On that, ye’ve my word. I for one won’t eat my words. I’d rather someone, else anyone else, eat for me, my hurtful, words.

Consider the power of our words. it’s the power to evoke; the power to emote; the power of persuasion, lies within us. otherwise. There is a vast and an untold power. Accordingly, I give ye my word. I give ye my bond. ’Tis my word.

A wordy man am I; about myself, especially There is a vast and an untold power within us; the power to evoke; the power to emote; the power of persuasion, apparently, lies within us. Accordingly, I give ye my bond. ’Tis my word.

That I’m just making it up as I go along is utterly implausible but it’s not altogether impossible. More significant than answering a bluebird’s questions is that doing so invites comments and — questions, so inviting, to ever more, words.

Implausibly; near incredibly, a bluebird asked me, “What‘s happening?” Serially tweeting and blogging my answers, inviting the comments and questions of others; inviting interactivity; interactivity; it’s a force multiplier, of words.

MYANMAR AND ETHIOPIA

Myanmar and Ethiopia; their despots come to mind. Myanmar’s, a General; Ethiopia’s a Nobel, Peace Prize winner. Worse yet, the aliens know a collision with Earth draws nigh or is imminent. Witness Earth, Alexandria’s forgotten, Urantia.

I’m no prophet but I’ve got a feeling about this asteroid. Methinks the aliens may know that a collision, is imminent. Failed and failing states, surround us. Like Myanmar, and like, Ethiopia. Witness, Asia’s Myanmar and Africa’s, Ethiopia.

I’ve got an uneasy, queasy feeling, about this asteroid. Methinks the aliens may know that a catastrophic collision is imminent. And failed or failing states surround us. As in Asia’s, Myanmar and as in also as well, Africa’s, Ethiopia.

I’m no prophet but I’ve got a feeling, this genre bending epic of mine is gonna be a sensation. A sensation it and I will be, once it’s rediscovered; after the asteroid; and under, the radar. Under — the radar fly, Myanmar and Ethiopia.

This genre bending allegory; this epic of mine is gonna be, I’ve got a feeling, a sensation. A real sensation, it and I will be, once it’s rediscovered; if, after the asteroid, it’s rediscovered, someday, under the radar. Those days, I fear, are not far.

Those days I fear, are not far. ”Ne’er fear,” oft, I find myself, reassuring the man in the mirror.“Ne’er fear,” I tell him, and I tell him, moreover, “Ne’er fear no man; nor fear either, no woman. Wordle’s in for now, but TwittereZe’s, not far.

I told Twitter’s, Jack. He wouldn’t or couldn’t listen. “It’s value Jack,” I tweeted him. I told him what he had to do; to get greater values, in ads. To monetize Twitter. He couldn’t or wouldn’t listen, losing me — and my poetry.

A tweet is a letter in microcosm. In precisely 280 characters; the right space, in the right time. Google Translated tweets may be a new way to communicate; to learn; to teach. To evolve to value more — more spiritual, poetry.

Wordle’s in for now, but TwittereZe’s, not far. It’s physically close. Still tho, metaphysically, it’s far. But had the New York Times known what The Watcher knows its offer to Wordle would have been dwarfed by its offer — to Art’s, TwittereZe.

Implausible is what seems to be, really, actually, happening. And it seems too, moreover, that ’tis my destiny to be, like Willy, a playwright. To play with words. To fatherly pronounce and promote what’s right and denounce what’s wrong, easily.

’Tis my destiny to be, like Willy, a playwright; to play with my words; to fatherly pronounce and promote what’s right and denounce what’s wrong. Implausible is what seems to be, really, actually, happening. And it seems, all so wrong.

It’s been difficult; it has been hard to make any sense at all about what’s going on; but I’d once upon a time been taken aback by a cartoonish bluebird asking in a dream, ”What’s happening?”
“What’s happening,” a bluebird asked, in a song.

In synesthesia, two or more of the senses are crossed. Some see colors when listening to music while others associate tastes with shapes or words with colors. A very small number of synesthetes, like me, can “taste” words.

In synesthesia, two or more of the senses get crossed. Some see colors when listening to music while others associate tastes with shapes or words with colors. A very small number of synesthetes, like me, can ‘taste’ words.

Untold is the story of the power of my words. Never before hath a man been so, similarly, privileged. To play so many roles, in one story. A common man, apprentice, become president, become author, become, purveyor, of words.

MOVE OVER WORDLE

I told Twitter’s, Jack. He wouldn’t or couldn’t listen. “It’s value Jack,” I tweeted him. I told him what he had to do; to get greater values, in ads. To monetize Twitter. He couldn’t or wouldn’t listen, losing me — and my value.

A tweet is a letter in microcosm. In precisely 280 characters; the right space, in the right time. Google Translated tweets may be a new way to communicate; to learn; to teach. To evolve to value more — more spiritual, values.

Move over Wordle. Important is content and cadence. Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and my TwittereZe are fun and games. But utilitarian is TwittereZe; more than Wordle, anyway — Pray tell, let me count the ways.

Content’s important. Ditto cadence. Content; it’s the story, itself. And each of us is a story untold; cadence is, its pace; it’s rhythm; its heartfelt, heartbeat. Stories untold. Content and cadence, in concert, tell the story — my way.

My way’s the one and only best way I’d say. Pray tell, let me count the ways. Whether fated to be an author to sell a short story or to write an epic one like mine; or to just write a memoir; write it in, my formerly inimitable, way. 

Inimitable were my ways. There’s no way tho I’m not sharing with my fellow human beans, a vision; verse so algorithmically, transcendental, it’s perfect. Inimitable’s my style of writing. With space and time, I’ll show ye, my way.

Space and time; two infinites, limit us. ’Tis what ’tis. Space and time, limit us. By virtue of the hubris invested in me, however, we may, if we choose, choose to be, in our imaginations — unlimited, if not limitless.

Utilitarian is TwittereZe; that is to say, it’s perfect for just making it all up as I go along. Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, in jail. My income’s unlimited, if not limitless.

Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, when I go to jail. My income’s already unlimited, if not, limitless. TwittereZe; it’s perfect; it’s perfect for making it all up, as I go along.

TwittereZe; it’s absolutely perfect for making everything up, as I go along. It’ll just add to my storied story, another lie; another alibi; another wild-eyed, story. Impulsivity; it’s the secret of my wild success, all along.

Surreally well-suited is TwittereZe for education; for learning from every branch of the tree of knowledge and wisdom. It’s well-suited as well, for business; and commerce. And it seems, very well-suited, for us.

For learning, ideal is The Watcher’s, TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe, for education; for learning from the tree of knowledge, and wisdom. It’s ideal, as well for business and commerce. It’s extremely well-suited, for us.

For education’s learning and its teaching, ideal is The Watcher’s TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe for writing as well in business and commerce. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; that alchemy, so long lost, to us.

Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; whatever, it really is. Outside the realm of the scientific and the physical is alchemy, so long lost, to us. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe whatever TwittereZe is to us.

IT’S TIME TO LEARN

It’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how to pen, poetry. Art’s TwittereZe’s not named that, for nothing. It’s not magic. It’s not magical realism. It’s just a potential. Mankind will make of it, what it will. Mankind will make what it will, of my poetry.

Art’s TwittereZe’s not named that for nothing. Not magic, nor magical realism, it’s just, raw, potential. Mankind will make of it what it will. Mankind will make, what it will, of my poetry. Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, willing — let it be.

Amen. Let it be. Let it be. There is a fountain of peace in those three words. Their calming effect is palpable. Mankind will make, what it will, of my poetry. Allah God Jehovah Yahweh willing, let, what’s to happen along the Pacific Rim, be.

It’s bad Karma, Xi. I fear, Xi, for the citizens of the Pacific Rim nations. It’s bad Karma to violate the dignity of yer citizens. I fear ye, like Vladimir Putin are too nationalistically, warlike; ye are as territorial as my Japanese Fighting Fish, verily.

I fear for the citizens of the Pacific Rim nations more than for the citizens of the nations of any other region. And so this, my magnum opus, is multi-purposed. Its Leggo-like-learning, is — it’s multi-purposed, easy, Leggo-like-learning.

It’s time to learn some basics about Arthur’s TwittereZe; to learn to tweet, to blog a book; to save a planet and all the surface Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like Leggo’s building blocks, it’s all about building.

To learn to tweet to blog a book to save a planet and all the surface Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like Leggo’s fun building blocks, it’s all about rebuilding a new society upon the old one. It’s about rebuilding, totally.

To save a planet and all upon it. That will take writing a book, edited from a blog, written in TwittereZe format from fully casted, 280 character tweets, serially linked. And recall that content is to cadence as melody is to harmony.

It’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how, to pen poetry.
280 character tweets, serially linked, may well compose content as brief as a short story or as long as the Hindu Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita; and the Greek, The Illiad and The Odyssey.

I’m calling for a meeting of the minds on the moon. It’s past time for a meeting of the minds; of all the minds; of all the peoples. I’m calling for a vote. I’m calling for real fairness, not fairness, fake. I’m calling for good government, really.

I’m calling for a meeting of the minds on the moon. It’s too, past time, for a meeting of the minds; of all the minds; of all the peoples. I’m calling for a vote calling for real fairness, not justice, warped. I’m calling for, real government.

I call for real government; not these charades on steroids. Charades, on steroids. No wonder that an asteroid’s on its way. I’m no prophet but I’ve got a funny feeling about this asteroid. Methinks — the aliens know, it’s imminent.

I’m no prophet but I’ve got a funny feeling about this incoming asteroid. Methinks, the aliens may know, a collision is imminent. Failed and failing states are surrounding us. Myanmar come to mind — Witness, Myanmar and Ethiopia.

Myanmar’s and Ethiopia’s despots come to mind. Myanmar’s, a General; Ethiopia’s a former Nobel, Peace Prize winner. Worse yet, the aliens may know that a collision with the Earth, may be imminent. Witness, a long forgotten, Urantia.

LEGGO-LIKE — POETRY

Time to Leggo-like-learn, how to write poetry. Art’s TwittereZe’s not named that, for nothing. It’s not magic. It’s not magical realism. It’s just a potential. Mankind will make of it, what it will. Mankind will make what it will, of my purpose.

Art’s TwittereZe’s not named that for nothing. Not magic, nor magical realism, it’s just, raw, potential. Mankind will make of it what it will. Mankind will make, what it will, of my poetry. Allah God Jehovah Yahweh’s will is our purpose.

Let it be. Amen. Let it be. There is a fountain of peace in those three words. Their calming effect upon us is palpable. Mankind will make, what it will of my words, The Almighty willing — Let what’s to happen along the Pacific Rim, be.

It’s bad Karma, Xi. I fear, Xi, for citizens of the Pacific Rim nations. It’s bad Karma to violate the dignity of yer citizens. And I fear ye, like Vladimir Putin are too nationalistically, warlike; ye are as territorial, as mountain-dwelling, rams, verily.

I fear for the citizens of the Pacific Rim nations more than for the citizens of the nations of any other region. And so this, my magnum opus, is multi-purposed. Its Leggo-like-learning, is — it’s multi-purposed, easy, Leggo-like-learning.

It’s time to learn some basics about Arthur’s TwittereZe; to learn to tweet, to blog a book; to save a planet and all the surface Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like Leggo’s building blocks, it’s all about building.

To learn to tweet to blog a book to save a planet and all the surface Earthlings upon it. To that end then, TwittereZe. Like Leggo’s fun building blocks, it’s all about rebuilding a new society upon the old one. It’s about rebuilding, totally.

To save a planet and all upon it. That will take writing a book, edited from a blog, written in TwittereZe format from fully casted, 280 character tweets, serially linked. And recall that content is to cadence as melody is to harmony.

It’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how, to pen poetry.
280 character tweets, serially linked, may well compose content as brief as a short story or as long as the Hindu Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita; and the Greek, The Illiad and The Odyssey.

I’m calling for a meeting of the minds on the moon. It’s past time for a meeting of the minds; of all the minds; of all the peoples. I’m calling for a vote. I’m calling for real fairness, not fairness, fake. I’m calling for good government, really.

I’m calling for a meeting of the minds on the moon. It’s too, past time, for a meeting of the minds; of all the minds; of all the peoples. I’m calling for a vote calling for real fairness, not justice, warped. I’m calling for, real government.

I call for real government; not these charades on steroids. Charades, on steroids. No wonder that an asteroid’s on its way. I’m no prophet but I’ve got a funny feeling about this asteroid. Methinks — the aliens know, it’s imminent.

I’m no prophet but I’ve got a funny feeling about this incoming asteroid. Methinks, the aliens may know, a collision is imminent. Failed and failing states are surrounding us. Myanmar come to mind — Witness, Myanmar and Ethiopia.

Myanmar’s and Ethiopia’s despots come to mind. Myanmar’s, a General; Ethiopia’s a former Nobel, Peace Prize winner. Worse yet, aliens may know a collision with Earth, is imminent. Witness, a long forgotten, Urantia.

A ROMCOM WANNABE

Indeed irony stars in this romcom wannabe, become a tragi-comedy in the Greek tradition. And its co-stars, tragedy and comedy, jealously compete, for their competing roles. Tragedy’s getting most of the stage-time, in those, roles.

Indeed irony stars in this romcom wannabe, become a tragi-comedy in the Greek tradition. And its co-stars, tragedy and comedy, jealously compete, for their competing roles. Tragedy’s getting most of the stage-time, in those, roles.

Tragedy’s been getting most of the stage-time. Tragedy’s getting the lion’s share of the roles. Tragedy, like beauty, lies in eyes of beholders. Nothing’s funny on Earth anymore. Earthlings have nothing to laugh about — on Earth.

What’s happening on Earth isn’t at all funny. Man’s less evolving than devolving. He’s running out of tolerance and patience. And he’s running out of time, to fix things, on Earth. Man’s done run out of time, to fix things, on the good Earth.

But if what’s happening on Earth isn’t at all very funny then why, pray tell do I espy, so many joyful faces in the very same spaces, with so many sad faces? Methinks there’s clues in the dens — of Lions and Bengals and Rams.

Methinks there’s clues in the stadiums of Lions and Bengals and Rams. Why so many joyful faces in the very same spaces with so many sad faces? Mark would know. Mark would know why. Mark knows all about faces — and Rams.

Mark knows about faces and Rams. And no man knows more about faces, it is said, than Mark. But Mark says some of what’s said is fake news. It’s human facial recognition technology that he’s expert at, not the Los Angeles Rams.

It’s human facial recognition technology Mark’s expert at, not American football’s, Los Angeles Rams. It’s human facial recognition technology that’s where tech’s leading edge is. I can tell ye about faces — not, the Los Angeles Rams.

Facial recognition technology; it’ll be all that —once we get all the kinks out. Even as I warn ye, even now, Xi’s Olympic officials are being charged with using spyware to keep track of the athletes there — not the Los Angeles Rams.

It’s bad Karma, Xi. It’s bad Karma to violate the dignity of yer citizens. I fear Xi, for the citizens of the Pacific Rim nations. I fear ye, like Vladimir Putin are too nationalistically, warlike; ye are as territorial, as mountain-dwelling, rams.

Territorial is animal life on Earth. Territorial, are lions and tigers and bears. Don’t invade their space. Don’t try to pet them. We’re like them. And there’s a lesson in that for us. There’s an invaluable lesson in that, for us. Be, like water.

Be, like water. Be like me, inexorable. There’s a lesson in that for us. Be like water. Irony’s been sharing with her leading men, tragedy and comedy, star billing. But she’s older now. Now’s her time to shine! It’s time to be — like water.

Irony’s older now. It’s her time to shine! It’s time to be for evermore, the star, she’s always been. The Almighty’s timing is nothing less than miraculous. It’s time therefore to be like water; it’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how to pen, poetry.

It’s time to Leggo-like-learn, how to pen poetry. Art’s TwittereZe’s not named that for nothing. It’s not magic. It’s not magical realism. It’s just a potential. Mankind will make of it what it will. Mankind will make, what it will, of my poetry.

LIONS AND TIGERS AND RAMS

Alchemy’s back. Gold, already in the lab’s been, transmuted. Hidden from view like Dark Matter, invisibly there’s — whatever it is. Metaphysical’s TwittereZe’s cadence; TwittereZe’s cadence; it’s to TwittereZe’s content as melody’s to harmony.

Content is to cadence as melody is to harmony. That speaks volumes; it explains, for one thing, why, as between poetry and prose; why writers in the know know, that poetry’s far far more, persuasive than prose. Persuasive, is poetry.

Content is to cadence as melody is to harmony. Understand. That, speaks volumes; it explains, why, as between poetry and prose; how writers know, that poetry’s far more persuasive than prose. And so I will that — ye understand.

Egypt will now meet the last team to deprive it of an AFCON title: The Indomitable Lions of Cameroon. For it was none other than the Indomitable Lions who last beat the Pharoahs 2-1 at Gabon 2017. I will — ye understand.

‘Tis what ’tis. I will, ye understand. Understand that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I tweeted Jack but he ne’er replied. So it’s on again; Plan ZZZ; the Kim-Don Plan, reprised. Important is the Pacific Rim, do understand.

This speaks volumes. Now I understand why composers know that poetry is more persuasive than prose. Accordingly understand this: This is not about Lions in Cameroon or Rams in Los Angeles. It’s about man — ye must understand.

This is not about Lions or Bengals or Rams. It’s about man; mankind that is; the greatest game, some say. This is about man and his states. And the some so few of us that get to make the rules, and break the rules, with impunity.

Breaking rules and regulations with impunity; and breaking the law, only incidentally, less recklessly. This is about a man run amuck; a man and his states, now failing. This is about saving them; and renaming them, eventually.

This is about a man run amuck; a man and his state, failing. This is about a man acting with impunity. For the Brits, Boris Johnson is one of them. A report on the tawdry affairs’ being published, after a 2 week delay, later today.

Will the report topple Boris’ government? How is it I don’t know what’s going to happen given that I’ve predicted the outcomes of presidencies and the football, playoff games with Lions, Indomitable, and Bengals and Rams, yesterday.

Content is to cadence as melody is to harmony. That, speaks volumes. There is more going on here than meets the eye. In Twitter’s algorithm there is as if, a Swiss Army knife as if, hidden there. I have the knife in hand, and it’s purpose.

I have the knife in hand. And its purposes as ye know are as advertised, multiple. Multi-purpose is the Swiss Army knife. And it or a facsimile is issued to members, of the military, on purpose — Rich is the irony in this soliloquy on purpose.

Irony stars in this romcom wannabe become a tragi-comedy in the best Greek tradition. And its co-stars, tragedy and comedy, jealously compete, for their competing roles. Indeed they do jealously compete, for their competing roles.

Indeed irony stars in this romcom wannabe, become a tragi-comedy in the Greek tradition. And its co-stars, tragedy and comedy, jealously compete, for their competing roles. Tragedy’s getting most of the stage-time, in those, roles.

ALCHEMY — IS BACK

Alchemy’s back. The proof’s in TwittereZe. More or less a miracle is TwittereZe. And outside the realm of the scientific and the physical, is alchemy. More or less a miracle is, TwittereZe. That’s what — TwittereZe probably, is.

I’d told Jack. He would not or could not listen. “It’s value Jack,” I’d told him. I told him what to do, to monetize Twitter. I fear we’ve lost our spiritual values. He didn’t listen. He’d had no clue what the potential of TwittereZe is.

I fear we’ve lost our spiritual values. Jack didn’t listen. He’d had no clue what the potential of TwittereZe was much less what the potential of TwittereZe is. Now Jack’s gone. And no one can know what the potential of TwittereZe is.

Now Jack’s gone and except for Art and me, no one knows what the potential of TwittereZe is. No one knows what we alone know. Possibly, no one will ever know what the potential of TwittereZe is, nor what, in effect, it may be.

Testaments. Scriptures; the Bible; the Qur’an. Physics, Metaphysics and the Maharishi Effect. A Golden Rule and TwittereZe. First cometh though an asteroid; and they are rock-hard, as a rule, because asteroids — are rocky.

Following a Big Bang, evolution; Scriptures, Bibles, Testaments, old and new; the Qur’an; the Bhagavad Gita; the Agamas. Then physics, metaphysics and a Maharishi Effect. Comes now a Golden Rule, effected by, TwittereZe.

For rainy days and Sundays, Wordle is now here to stay. Like crossword puzzles and Sudoku, it’s here to stay. Fun’s important but it’s not nearly as important as content’s cadence. Abstracts — are content and cadence, metaphysically.

Alchemy, long lost, is back. Gold, in the lab’s, been transmuted. And hidden from view like Dark Matter and Dark Energy may be, whatever they are. TwittereZe’s essence; whatever it is, is probably a miracle but certainly, metaphysical.

Hidden from view like Dark Matter and Dark Energy may be, whatever they are; of whatever, are made up, Dark Matter and Dark Energy. TwittereZe’s essence; whatever it is. TwittereZe’s energy. Certainly — it’s metaphysical.

Whether a short story, an epic like mine or just, a solitary tweet, sharing it, increases its value. It is perfectly perfect for the collection of NFTs. It’s a good investment to hold on to since sharing it, increases, its value.

Whether a short story or like mine, an epic, yer sharing it, increases its value. It is nothing less than perfect; for saving the Earth and saving mankind. A cool collection of NFTs. Implausibly, sharing it, increases, its value.

Would that it were so. It’s not so anti-intuitive; that sharing a commodity, increase, its value. For saving the Earth and mankind, I shall win Nobels and have a cool collection of NFTs; all because, sharing, increases, its value.

Sharing. It’s not so anti-intuitive. Sharing any commodity may very well, well increase its value. And if what’s shared on any medium, beyond greetings and salutations, teaches and reaches, then sharing — increases, its value.

MOVE OVER WORDLE

I told Twitter’s, Jack. He wouldn’t or couldn’t listen. “It’s value Jack,” I tweeted him. I told him what he had to do; to get greater values, in ads. To monetize Twitter. He couldn’t or wouldn’t listen, losing me — and my value.

A tweet is a letter in microcosm. In precisely 280 characters; the right space, in the right time. Google Translated tweets may be a new way to communicate; to learn; to teach. To evolve to value more — more spiritual, values.

Move over Wordle. Important is content and cadence. Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and my TwittereZe are fun and games. But utilitarian is TwittereZe; more than Wordle, anyway — Pray tell, let me count the ways.

Content’s important. Ditto cadence. Content; it’s the story, itself. And each of us is a story untold; cadence is, its pace; it’s rhythm; its heartfelt, heartbeat. Stories untold. Content and cadence, in concert, tell the story — my way.

My way’s the one and only best way I’d say. Pray tell, let me count the ways. Whether fated to be an author to sell a short story or to write an epic one like mine; or to just write a memoir; write it in, my formerly inimitable, way. 

Inimitable were my ways. There’s no way tho I’m not sharing with my fellow human beans, a vision; verse so algorithmically, transcendental, it’s perfect. Inimitable’s my style of writing. With space and time, I’ll show ye, my way.

Space and time; two infinites, limit us. ’Tis what ’tis. Space and time, limit us. By virtue of the hubris invested in me, however, we may, if we choose, choose to be, in our imaginations — unlimited, if not limitless.

Utilitarian is TwittereZe; that is to say, it’s perfect for just making it all up as I go along. Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, in jail. My income’s unlimited, if not limitless.

Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, when I go to jail. My income’s already unlimited, if not, limitless. TwittereZe; it’s perfect; it’s perfect for making it all up, as I go along.

TwittereZe; it’s absolutely perfect for making everything up, as I go along. It’ll just add to my storied story, another lie; another alibi; another wild-eyed, story. Impulsivity; it’s the secret of my wild success, all along.

Surreally well-suited is TwittereZe for education; for learning from every branch of the tree of knowledge and wisdom. It’s well-suited as well, for business; and commerce. And it seems, very well-suited, for us.

For learning, ideal is The Watcher’s, TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe, for education; for learning from the tree of knowledge, and wisdom. It’s ideal, as well for business and commerce. It’s extremely well-suited, for us.

For education’s learning and its teaching, ideal is The Watcher’s TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe for writing as well in business and commerce. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; that alchemy, so long lost, to us.

Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; whatever, it really is. Outside the realm of the scientific and the physical is alchemy, so long lost, to us. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe — whatever TwittereZe, is.

TONGA

Tonga. It’s the only Polynesian monarchy still standing, so to speak. The coronation of a King George, once upon a time, made Tonga, a state. Tonga; a nation; and a Kingdom. Tonga may well be the last monarchy, Polynesian.

The coronation of a King George once upon a time in 1845 made of Tonga a state. In post-trauma mode now are the Tongans. And the Kingdom’s been blown sky high. Tonga‘s a harbinger to those — not Polynesian.

I’ve made a great discovery. I have discovered, a great treasure. Invaluable is my discovery. That is no proof my story’s nonfictional. The proof I know, is in the pudding, albeit, some say — it’s too, implausible.

I’ve no proof that the story I’m writing isn’t true. That’s no proof this story, is fictional. Actually, that’s even more proof that this story indeed is, nonfictional. The proof I know’s in the pudding, albeit some, deem it, incredible.

I have discovered a great treasure. Implausibly, near incredible is its value. Verily, its value is, invaluable. The proof’s in the pudding. Whether a short story, an epic like mine or just a solitary tweet, sharing it — increases, its value.

Whether a short story, an epic like mine or just, a solitary tweet, sharing it, increases its value. It is perfectly perfect for the collection of NFTs. It’s a good investment to hold on to since sharing it, increases, its value.

Whether a short story or like mine, an epic, yer sharing it, increases its value. It is nothing less than perfect; for saving the Earth and saving mankind. A cool collection of NFTs. Implausibly, sharing it, increases, its value.

Would that it were so. It’s not so anti-intuitive; that sharing a commodity, increase, its value. For saving the Earth and mankind, I shall win Nobels and have a cool collection of NFTs; all because, sharing, increases, its value.

Sharing. It’s not so anti-intuitive. Sharing any commodity may very well, well increase its value. And if what’s shared on any medium, beyond greetings and salutations, teaches and reaches, then sharing — increases, its value.

if what’s shared on any medium; say Twitter, beyond greetings and salutations, teaches and reaches, then sharing would, in the usual case, tend to increase, value. I told Twitter’s Jack but he wouldn’t, listen. It’s all about — value.

I told Twitter’s Jack. But he wouldn’t, listen. “It’s all about value, Jack,” I told him. I told him what to do; to monetize Twitter but he couldn’t or wouldn’t listen. Jack should have taken me more seriously. He should have listened to me.

Jack really should have listened to me. Jill too, methinks. Not Jack’s Jill; Joe’s. In any event, Jack’s got lots of company on The Hill. I must admit. No one that I know that lives on The Hill, takes me too, very, seriously.

No one that I know that lives on The Hill has ever taken me seriously. Not the Bushes. Not the Obamas. Still, I expected better from the Bidens. Not so much from Joe but from Jill. Joe’s getting old on The Hill, not young, like me.

Unlike me, Joe’s getting too old, too fast, on The Hill. He’s not getting younger, ever faster, like me. More importantly, he doesn’t see what’s happening, like I do. He can’t see an asteroid coming, like I can. Trust — in me.

THE FRIENDLY ISLANDS

Alchemy’s back. The proof is in TwittereZe. More or less a miracle happening upon the Earth in the nick of time, is my TwittereZe. Outside the realm of the scientific and the physical’s ancient alchemy; more or less, a miracle — potential.

Alchemy, indeed, is back. Too long has it been outside the realm of the scientific and a whole new way to communicate. Invisible is what’s really metaphysical. Somehow it exists, actually. Realms, metaphysical alongside, the physical.

The metaphysical realm, actually exists. Hidden in Twitter’s algorithm, is a new way, to write; to communicate. Hidden from view, like Dark Matter, is a whole new way to communicate. It’s invisible because — it’s metaphysical.

Invisible to us is the metaphysical. It’s invisible because it’s metaphysical. Like the air I breathe that I can’t see; albeit physical, I can’t see it. So what’s invisible, still may either be, physical — or metaphysical.

A correspondence in microcosm, is a tweet. Its 280 characters; the right space; the right time. And my Google Translated tweets at Arthur’s chachomanopapa space on the net may usher, a brand new, space race, someday.

Would that that is to be, what’s to happen. Met in lunar soirée last night, the leaders of China, Russia, North Korea and Saudi Arabia. But as ye know by now the leaders ne’er remember, what they dreamt with me, the next day.

Met in lunar soirée last night, the leaders of China, Russia, North Korea and Saudi Arabia. But as ye may recall, the leaders remember not ever, what they dream on the moon at night with me, on following days.

It’s a plot device, admittedly; that daily amnesia of our often, criminal leaders. I’m not casting aspersions on Xi and on Vladimir or any of Vlad’s other guys. I’m just pointing my finger at them (and at me), in Art’s, last days.

That daily amnesia; it’s a plot device, some say; others say that it’s proof that finger-pointing with unclean hands is proof of corruption. That sounds right, I’d say. Vlad and Xi are corrupt. I’m corrupt too, I must say, I agree.

Hidden in Twitter’s algorithm is a new way to write; a brand new way to communicate. That daily amnesia, a future provenance, and the sharing of a womb; they’re all plot devices, some say. They’re plot devices, I agree.

Plot devices are the three of them some say and I agree. But that’s no proof that the story I’m authoring isn’t true. That’s no proof that this story is fictional. It’s proof tho, that this story’s, actually, nonfictional.

More importantly, I must say; I’ve made a great discovery. I have discovered, a great treasure. Invaluable is my discovery. That’s no proof, my story’s nonfictional. The proofs’ in the pudding, albeit some say, it’s implausible.

Tonga. The Kingdom of Tonga. Formerly named, the Friendly Islands; three are the names of the island nation, that Tonga goes by. And the coronation of King George makes Tonga, the only, still-extant, Polynesian, monarchy.

Tonga. the only Polynesian monarchy still standing, so to speak. The coronation of a King George, once upon a time, made Tonga, a state. Tonga; a nation-state; and a Kingdom. And It may be the last, Polynesian, monarchy.

‘TIS WHAT ‘TIS — WHATEVER — IT IS

Move over Wordle. Important is content and cadence. Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and my TwittereZe are fun and games. But utilitarian is TwittereZe; more than Wordle, anyway — Pray tell, let me count the ways.

Content’s important. Ditto cadence. Content; it’s the story, itself. And each of us is a story untold; cadence is, its pace; it’s rhythm; its heartfelt, heartbeat. Stories untold. Content and cadence, in concert, tell the story — my way.

My way’s the one and only best way I’d say. Pray tell, let me count the ways. Whether fated to be an author to sell a short story or to write an epic one like mine; or to just write a memoir; write it in, my formerly inimitable, way.

Inimitable were my ways. There’s no way tho I’m not sharing with my fellow human beans, a vision; verse so algorithmically, transcendental, it’s perfect. Inimitable’s my style of writing. With space and time, I’ll show ye, my way.

Space and time; two infinites, limit us. ’Tis what ’tis. Space and time, limit us. By virtue of the hubris invested in me, however, we may, if we choose, choose to be, in our imaginations — unlimited, if not limitless.

Utilitarian is TwittereZe; that is to say, it’s perfect for just making it all up as I go along. Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, in jail. My income’s unlimited, if not limitless.

Well suited, is TwittereZe for education. And for writing love letters. I’ll make a mint, when I go to jail. My income’s already unlimited, if not, limitless. TwittereZe; it’s perfect; it’s perfect for making it all up, as I go along.

TwittereZe; it’s absolutely perfect for making everything up, as I go along. It’ll just add to my storied story, another lie; another alibi; another wild-eyed, story. Impulsivity; it’s the secret of my wild success, all along.

Surreally well-suited is TwittereZe for education; for learning from every branch of the tree of knowledge and wisdom. It’s well-suited as well, for business; and commerce. And it seems, very well-suited, for us.

For learning, ideal is The Watcher’s, TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe, for education; for learning from the tree of knowledge, and wisdom. It’s ideal, as well for business and commerce. It’s extremely well-suited, for us.

For education’s learning and its teaching, ideal is The Watcher’s TwittereZe. Ideal is TwittereZe for writing as well in business and commerce. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; that alchemy, so long lost, to us.

Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe; whatever, it really is. Outside the realm of the scientific and the physical is alchemy, so long lost, to us. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe — whatever TwittereZe, is.

Alchemy, so long lost, is back. Gold, in the laboratory’s been transmuted. And hidden from view, like Dark Matter, invisible is, whatever it really is. Something more than a miracle is TwittereZe — whatever TwittereZe is.

Alchemy’s back. The proof’s in TwittereZe. Nothing less than a miracle is TwittereZe. Outside the realm of the scientific and the physical is alchemy. Nothing less than a miracle is, TwittereZe. That’s what — TwittereZe, is.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING!

Russians are coming! Mongol hordes too, maybe. Everyone knows Mongols lorded over the peoples who’d later become the Chinese. Xi and The Chinese, are feeling it. But for the Ukrainians, the Russians are coming!

The Golden Rule and TwittereZe cometh. First cometh tho, an inerrant, asteroid. Xi and The Chinese, are feeling their oats. But for the Ukrainians, the Russians are coming! Relive, the past. The Russians — are coming.

The Russians are coming, or not. No one knows what Vlad’s doing; not even Vlad, to be sure. To be sure, it matters not if what happens is a real happening or a happening (by not happening), in the omission.

It matters not if what happen’s a happening or a happening (by not happening), in the omission. The Russians are coming, or not. No one knows what Vlad’s doing; not even Vlad, in the Kremlin (by ommission).

Testaments. Scriptures; the Bible; the Qur’an. Physics, Metaphysics and the Maharishi Effect. A Golden Rule and TwittereZe. First cometh tho an asteroid; and they are rock-hard, as a rule, because asteroids — are rocks.

Following a Big Bang, an evolution; Scriptures, a Bible; Testaments, old and new; the Qur’an; the Bhagavad Gita; the Agamas. Then came physics, metaphysics and a Maharishi Effect. Comes now a Golden Rule, in the aftermath, of a rock.

Comes now an asteroid and the Golden Rule. The asteroid may function similarly, in The Almighty’s grand design, as the flood once did, many thousands of years ago. Don’t be alarmed by it’s coming, this time.

Cometh now, a Golden Rule; after wars; after an asteroid. Don’t be so alarmed by its coming. And note that the asteroid may function in the grand design as the flood once did, once upon a time, that time.

Note that the asteroid may well function, in the grand design, as the Flood did, once upon a time. Comes now a Golden Rule; after a flood of 10,000 years of war. We may yet prevail after the asteroid and its floods.

Comes now a Rule, Golden; after a great flood; after, 10,000 years of war. All so that we may prevail over ourselves; after the asteroid. But it won’t happen til, after the asteroid; and after, also — its floods.

Russians are coming! Mongol hordes; Cossacks too, maybe. We silly Earthlings; we be devolving, not evolving. Oblivious to realities, we drag our feet, aspiring to be, mostly, just Squid-Game-bingeing, couch potatoes.

In lieu of reliving our glorious pasts, let us just act like it. Spare nothing on trappings, traditions and illusions. The Russians are coming say the Ukrainians; but that’s not necessarily so. They’re moon-walking, maybe, ye know.

We silly Earthlings; we be, devolving. We be metaphysically devolving even as we physically, evolve. Walking away from the Ukrainians, are the Russians, if moon-walking, they be. And moon-walking — it’s just dancing, anyway.

Move over Wordle. Important is content and cadence. Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and my TwittereZe; are fun and games. More utilitarian is TwittereZe; more than Wordle, anyway. It’s addictive, challenging and rewarding, anyway.

FORTUNE FAVOURS THE BOLD

Near incredibly, I’ve got a plan; it’s a long shot, Hail Mary but it’s worth a shot, I’ll bet. Take the Earth and the points. The Earth will cover. The odds are against the Earth. Still, implausibly, I’ve got a plan, I’ve been sold.

“Fortune favours the bold” is but one of the English translations of a Latin proverb, popular with western militaries. But what if the effect of The Maharishi Effect on us is way cool? Everyone knows, fortune favours, the old.

Fortune favors the old. That sounds about right. Fortune favors the old. But what if the effect of The Maharishi Effect, were effective, upon us? What if the effect of The Maharishi Effect, were effective, in getting us, to get old?

The Testaments, New and Old. The Scriptures; the Bible and the Qur’an. Physics, Metaphysics and the Maharishi Effect. The Golden Rule and TwittereZe cometh. But first cometh, an inerrant asteroid, I’ve been told.

The Testaments. The Scriptures; the Bible and the Qur’an. Physics, Metaphysics and the Indian, Maharishi Effect. TwittereZe and a Golden Rule cometh. But first cometh, at Godspeed, an inerrant, asteroid.

Beholden to no man, am I. No politician, I’m a man-of-the-people styled, populist. And a late-blooming, egalitarian. A Golden Rule, cometh. But first cometh, from out of the sun, a hard as rock, asteroid.

The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming! So say many; not just, the Ukrainians. And in Taiwan; that is to say, in Taipei, some worry. The odds are against us., I’ve got a plan tho. Accordingly, my soul, I’ve sold.

Actually I sold my soul, long ago. The Russians are coming! So say the Ukrainians. And in Taiwan, that is to say in Taipei, those that were Formosans not so long ago, worry still to this day. So, I’ve been — and am told.

A climaxing; it’s what’s happening. Pursuant to His plan, my plan; so I’m resurrecting a morbid, Kim-Don Plan. The DPRK; grave and on life-support for decades is, hanging in. Kim’s coming to life; he’s playing with fire, I’m told.

What’s happening seems to me, a climaxing. It’s seems very much like the feeling; the tickle one feels inside of one when one is climaxing. The truth, on Earth, is very much, relative; and most difficult, to elicit, I’m told.

This is too spooky, by some I’ve been told. To wit, it happened again last evening in my nightly lunar soirée with Art and Vladimir’s guys. Unanimously, they said, ”This is too spooky.” This is spooky, indeed, I’ve been told.

Pursuant to His plan, my plan. I’m resurrecting the morbid, Kim-Don Plan. The DPRK; on life-support has been, for decades. The plan is to save with Kim, the Earth. And Kim is now coming to life, I’ve been told.

The Russians are coming! So say the Ukrainians. And in Taiwan, that is to say in Taipei, those that were the Formosans, not so long ago, worry still even to this day, that Xi’s mainlander Chinese, are coming.

Russians are coming! And Mongol hordes too, maybe. Everyone knows the Mongols, lorded over the peoples who would later become the Chinese. More, later, on the Chinese. For now; for Ukrainians, the Russians are coming!

I’VE GOT A PLAN

The Watcher, watches. TheIii it Watcher, writes. I’ve had revelations since I was president. Now, I’m into meditation; and the modification, of behavior. And so, of hubris and me and aliens and asteroids, The Watcher, writes.

I’m into meditation and behavior‘s modification; I’m into saving Earth, and mankind along with it. Witness this writing; and Nobels, awaiting me. “‘Tis time,” The Watcher, psychographically, writes.” As if to say — he writes.

On the rule of law and the laws of the jungle and the universe. Surreally, the one and only me, has written in my verse, ironically, my real masterpiece; my magnum opus, of my epic and alchemical verse.

This self-help’s about yer collective psychosis; about the hypocrisy of the autocratic rule of law and the governance of the laws of the jungle and the laws of the universe. A magnum opus, of his epic and alchemic verse.

The Watcher, watches. The Watcher, writes. I’ve had some revelations since I was the president. I’m into meditation now; and the modification, of behavior. Of hubris and me; and aliens and asteroids, The Watcher writes, nonfiction.

Of hubris and me; and aliens and asteroids, The Watcher writes. I’ve had revelations since I was, once upon a time, the president; a one-termer, perhaps. Into communal meditation now, am I. I am a big fan of communal meditation.

I’m a big big fan of recreation; and of my time, recreational. I’m a big fan of Yoga as well. And so I’m a big fan of communal meditation. I’m into meditation, nowadays. To modify behavior, I’m into meditation and poetry, alchemical.

The Maharishi Effect: it has been observed that groups of people experiencing internal peace, positively effect their surroundings; such groups and such effects make milieus fertile to peace; and makes them, to violence, infertile.

There was just one coup in 2020, in Africa. But the coups were up to four, in 2021. There were coups in 2021 in Chad, Mali, Guinea and Sudan. Yesterday’s copycat coup was in Burkina Faso. Get yer hotcakes — while they’re hot.

Yesterday’s copycat coup was in Burkina Faso. Trumpism; it’s alive and well in Africa. And the lesson learned by some from me in Africa is: Honor, time-honored, traditions. Get yer hotcakes — while they’re hot.

Carl Jung’s collective unconsciousness; Edgar Cayce’s akashic records; Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s noosphère, all explore this mystic phenomena; this phenomena we of faith, know as — Allah God Jehovah Yahweh.

Carl Jung’s collective; Cayce’s akashic records and de Chardin’s noosphère; some of us can access the metaphysical. But the metaphysical can’t be replicated or corroborated. All praise Allah God Jehovah Yahweh.

Yesterday’s copycat coup was in Burkina Faso. What’s metaphysical can’t be replicated or corroborated. None of it is, at all, science. Add Burkina Faso to Chad, Mali, Guinea and Sudan. Still, implausibly, I’ve got a plan.

Near incredibly, I’ve got a plan; it’s a long shot, Hail Mary but it’s worth a shot, I’ll bet. Take the Earth and the points. The Earth will cover. The odds are against the Earth. Still, implausibly, I’ve got a plan.

TWITTEREZE’S — HERE TO STAY

For rainy days and Sundays, Wordle is here to stay. Like crossword puzzles and Sudoku, Wordle’s here to stay. On Earth, fun’s important but it’s not nearly as important as The Watcher’s epic poetry.

Word games, crosswords and games of football are being played everywhere; in Africa, Europe, Canada and the United States of America. Hubris and hi-tech, make it possible. And the Watcher writes, psychographically.

On Earth, fun is important. Thank God; and your forebears; that to eat a chicken, ye don’t have to kill, pluck, gut and cook it, on a fire. On Earth, fun’s important but it’s not nearly as important, as physics, metaphysically.

To eat a chicken, nowadays, ye don’t have to kill, pluck, gut nor fire it up. Ye can just go to Chick-Fil-A, or better yet, have someone cook it, for ye. Better yet, if ye wanna get rich — just have someone do, all your work, for ye.

That’s what I do. I have someone do my dirty work, for me. Its so I can do, as I like. It’s so I can go along in life just making it up as I go along. Bucking tradition, I’m into meditation. I just make it all up, as I go along.

If ye wanna get rich have someone, lower-class, do your work for ye. It’s far, lower-risk than personally stealing from others. Stealing the riches of others; it’s a time-honored, tradition. I’m adding to it, as I go along.

I’m into meditation; and the modification, of behavior. Like when a babe says no to me; as ye know I don’t take no for no answer. I’m not, that kind of guy. Bucking tradition, I briefly meditate, before resuming, my plowing, along.

Like when a babe says no to me; I don’t take no no, fo’ no answer because, implausibly, I’m not that kind of guy. Bucking tradition; I meditate briefly, then bore ahead. As a prick, I can’t wait to bore ahead — and get, along.

If a babe says no to me ye know I don’t take no no, fo’ no answer. I’m not that kind of guy. And so nowadays, fucking tradition, I meditate; for a nanosecond or so, then impulsively resume my fucking, as I go — merrily, along.

Actually, no babe ever said no to intercourse with me. And when I said, “I don’t take no fo’ no answer,” I was just kidding. I’m not that kind of guy. I’ve got no common sense to speak of, but I’ve got the sense, to move along.

Actually, I haven’t even got that. Methinks I’ve got no common sense to speak of, certainly not, the sense, to move along. I don’t as a rule, move along well. But times have changed. I’m moving on; I’m moving, along.

Times have changed. I’m moving on; I’m moving, along. Actually, I haven’t even got the sense to do that. Methinks I’ve got no common sense to speak of; most certainly not, the minimal sense, to move along.

I haven’t the sense to move along. But times have changed. The world, is changing. Once, I was the president; since then, revelations, I have had; and an epiphany. The Watcher, watches. And The Watcher, writes.

The Watcher, watches. The Watcher, writes. I’ve had some revelations since I was president. I’m into meditation; and the modification, of behavior. And so of hubris and me and aliens and asteroids, The Watcher, writes.

MOVING IS POETRY

More provocative than prose is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. Rhyme’s why art is so appealing to the senses; and it’s why it’s appealing to Art. It’s more evocative than prose. Now I see why, so moving, is poetry.

More evocative than prose is poetry; and more emotive too. Poetry; who knew it would turn out to be, so transformative? And on so many levels? Thank God I didn’t know earlier what I’ve come to know now, as poetry.

I did not know then, what I now, miraculously know. I’ve had revelations; and an epiphany. Transformative, has been this journey. And who knew that poetry, could ever be, so universally, transformative?

Revelations, I have had; and a most implausible, epiphany. Transformative’s been my journey. Who (but me) surreally knows that poetry, on so many levels could be so uniformly, universally, transformative?

Important is content and cadence. And Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and TwittereZe are fun. But essentially, three are recreational. TwittereZe’s words are essentially, educational. No wonder then — it’s so, transformative.

Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords and TwittereZe are fun. And important is content and cadence. But word games, are merely, recreational; words, being my stock in trade, pray tell — educational words, may be, transformative.

Educational words may be transformative. And in my words there is power. Who doesn’t know that? Everyone, methinks, knows that. Words, being my stock in trade — transformative, may be, my poetry.

Everything I allege herein, I’ve published as well on Twitter; so Vlad’s guys won’t try denying later that they didn’t know anything. They may try to deny that they knew anything. But on Twitter — there’ll be proof, to the contrary.

More evocative than prose is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. Rhyme is why art is so appealing to the senses, and seemingly, why, it’s more evocative than prose. Now I understand why, so moving, is poetry.

Now, I understand. Rhyme is why poetic art is so appealing to the senses and why it’s so more evocative than prose. Indeed, the proof is in sonnets and jingles. The proof is in eulogies. The proof is in elegies.

Portent; it gets the limelight. But important, is content. I’ve seen alchemical content, ironically, in Twitter’s content, algorithmic. Move over, Wordle. Important is content; and cadence. No less important — is TwittereZe.

TwittereZe; moving forward, I expect it’ll be, an important, Earth-saving tool, for humanity; Wordle; it’s more, a game. TwittereZe is something more. Artful is, TwittereZe. Wordle’s, a game. Art is, TwittereZe.

Move over, Wordle. Important is content and cadence. No less important is, TwittereZe. TwittereZe; it’s an important tool for humanity, moving forward — Wordle — it’s more of a game. Art — is TwittereZe.

Don’t worry tho about Wordle. Wordle’s here to stay. Like crossword puzzles and Sudoku; for rainy days and Sundays, Wordle’s here to stay. Entertainment’s important but it’s not as important as — TwittereZe.

PROSE AND POETRY

More evocative than prose is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. Rhyme is why art is so appealing to the senses, and seemingly, why, it’s more evocative than prose. Now I understand why, so moving, is poetry.

Now, I understand. Rhyme is why poetic art is so appealing to the senses and why it’s so more evocative than prose. Indeed, the proof is in sonnets and jingles. The proof is in eulogies. The proof is in elegies.

Portent; it gets the limelight. But important, is content. I’ve seen alchemical content, ironically, in Twitter’s content, algorithmic. Move over, Wordle. Important is content; and cadence. No less important — is TwittereZe.

TwittereZe; moving forward, I expect it’ll be, an important, Earth-saving tool, for humanity; Wordle; it’s more, a game. TwittereZe is something more. Artful is, TwittereZe. Wordle’s, a game. Art is, TwittereZe.

Move over, Wordle. Important is content and cadence. No less important is, TwittereZe. TwittereZe; it’s an important tool for humanity, moving forward — Wordle — it’s more of a game. Art — is TwittereZe.

Don’t worry tho about Wordle. Wordle’s here to stay. Like crossword puzzles and Sudoku; for rainy days and Sundays, Wordle’s here to stay. Entertainment’s important but it’s not as important as — TwittereZe.

On rainy days and Sundays, Wordle’s relaxing, fun and entertaining. Entertainment’s important but it’s not as important as surviving. That’s why I’m touting TwittereZe. The pen may be mightier than the sword — with TwittereZe.

Entertainment’s important but it’s not as important as surviving. That’s why I’m touting TwittereZe. In words, there is power. And on Earth, at long last, the pen may be mightier than the sword — with TwittereZe.

In words, there is power. Power to make laws. Power to outlaw. Power to dictate. Power to detain. In words, there is power. Still, the pen may be mightier than the sword with my, poetic, TwittereZe.

A Golden Rule, cometh. But cometh first, from out of the sun, a rock-hard, asteroid. I’m no prophet. I’m just saying; speculating, let’s say. Who can surreally know, from whence cometh, an asteroid, really?

It’s not just that ye can’t see the future; it’s not just that ye gotta see to believe; the attainment of balance; it’s always been hard, but it’s gotten immeasurably harder to attain. It’s why Las Vegas, is betting against us.

Maintaining our balance; it’s always been hard, but it’s gotten immeasurably harder to attain, any balance. It’s not just that ye can’t peer into the future. With so many challenges, oddly, Las Vegas’ odds, are against us.

I wonder. I’m wondering who my friends are. I wonder who my friends are, if the enemy of my enemy, is my friend. The enemy is us. But I won’t blame myself. I’m my best friend; my one, and only, friend.

The enemy is us. And I am, my one and only, best friend. I wonder who my friends are, if the enemy of my enemy, is my friend. I know that the enemy is us. But I shan’t blame myself. I am, my best friend.

COMETH — AN ASTEROID

A Golden Rule, cometh. But cometh first, from out of the sun, a rock-hard, asteroid. I’m no prophet. I’m just saying; speculating, let’s just say. For who can surreally know, from whence really cometh, an asteroid?

I’m no prophet. I’m just saying. A Golden Rule, cometh. But cometh first, an unprecedented, asteroid. Unprecedented shall be, what hasn’t happened yet; our collision with, an asteroid. Cometh — an asteroid.

Witness my poetry. More emotive than prose, is poetry. So agreed Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, in our lunar soirée, last evening; in a dream, last night. More emotive than prose, is poetry. Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry.

Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry. And in that balance, there’s a lesson. Seek, in all things, balance. So said in lunar soirée, last evening, Siddhartha, the Buddha. More emotive than prose, is poetry.

More emotive than prose, is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. And rhyme’s the reason. Art appeals to the senses; to all of them. In part, that’s why, more emotive than prose, is poetry. More moving than prose, is poetry.

Less moving than poetry is prose. And easier by far to compose is prose. For most purposes, prose is adequate. Poetry’s oft reserved, for special occasions. And a special occasion, hurtles towards us. It’s pure, poetry.

For most purposes, prose is adequate. Poetry’s oft reserved, for special occasions. And a special occasion, hurtles towards us. Pure poetry is what’s happening here; it’s what’s happening, actually, everywhere.

Pure poetry; mathematics: what’s happening here is what’s happening, actually, everywhere. Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry. In equal parts, of tragedy and comedy, I write, seeking, balance, everywhere.

In equal parts of tragedy and comedy I write. In equal parts; so equally composed is, my poetry. In equal parts of tragedy and comedy, I have sought balance in my tragedy and comedy — and in my poetry.

In my poetry, I have sought balance. Like Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, before me. Like even, perhaps, Sappho, before them. Cometh an event, not yet, current. Cometh an asteroid. At all Godspeed, it cometh, in a hurry.

More emotive than prose is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. Rhyme is why art is so appealing to the senses and seemingly why it’s more emotive than prose. Moving, is poetry, Now at last, I understand.

Like Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, before me. Like even perhaps, Sappho, before them, I have had, revelations. And an epiphany. No SpiderMan style superhero, am I. And, unlike Joe Biden, I’m beholden, to no man.

Beholden to no man, am I. No politician, I’m a man-of-the-people styled, populist. And a late-blooming, egalitarian. A Golden Rule, cometh. But first cometh, from out of the sun, a hard as rock, asteroid.

A Golden Rule, cometh. But cometh first, from out of the sun, a rock-hard, asteroid. I’m no prophet. I’m just saying; speculating, let’s say. For who can surreally know, from whence cometh, an asteroid?

I GET THE ROYALTIES

I get the royalties. That’s the proof of the pudding. I was the first on Earth to tell the people not to worry; to just, be happy. Witness that I get my royalties. I’m smart. And the proof is in, that I get, my royalties.

I digress. I’d best address more succinctly, the confluence of events; and all the things, that are happening, (part and parcel with), and all the things that only seem to be happening. Witness, my poetry.

Witness my poetry. More emotive than prose, is poetry. So agreed Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, in our lunar soirée, last evening; in a dream, last night. More emotive than prose, is poetry. Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry.

Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry. And in that balance, there’s a lesson. Seek, in all things, balance. So said in lunar soirée, last evening, Siddhartha, the Buddha. More emotive than prose, is poetry.

More emotive than prose, is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. And rhyme’s the reason. Art appeals to the senses; to all of them. In part, that’s why, more emotive than prose, is poetry. More moving than prose, is poetry.

Less moving than poetry is prose. And easier by far to compose is prose. For most purposes, prose is adequate. Poetry’s oft reserved, for special occasions. And a special occasion, hurtles towards us. It’s pure, poetry.

For most purposes, prose is adequate. Poetry’s oft reserved, for special occasions. And a special occasion, hurtles towards us. Pure poetry is what’s happening here; it’s what’s happening, actually, everywhere.

Pure poetry; mathematics: what’s happening here is what’s happening, actually, everywhere. Tragic and comic, in equal parts, is my poetry. In equal parts, of tragedy and comedy, I write, seeking, balance, everywhere.

In equal parts of tragedy and comedy I write. In equal parts; so equally composed is, my poetry. In equal parts of tragedy and comedy, I have sought balance in my tragedy and comedy — and in my poetry.

In my poetry, I have sought balance. Like Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, before me. Like even, perhaps, Sappho, before them. Cometh an event, not yet, current. Cometh an asteroid. At all Godspeed, it cometh, in a hurry.

More emotive than prose is poetry. The proof’s in sonnets and jingles. Rhyme is why art is so appealing to the senses and seemingly why it’s more emotive than prose. Moving, is poetry, Now at last, I understand.

Like Willy, Vyasa and Rumi, before me. Like even perhaps, Sappho, before them, I have had, revelations. And an epiphany. No SpiderMan style superhero, am I. And, unlike Joe Biden, I’m beholden, to no man.

Beholden to no man, am I. No politician, I’m a man-of-the-people styled, populist. And a late-blooming, egalitarian. A Golden Rule, cometh. But first cometh, from out of the sun, a hard as rock, asteroid.

A Golden Rule, cometh. But cometh first, from out of the sun, a rock-hard, asteroid. I’m no prophet. I’m just saying; speculating, let’s say. For who can surreally know, from whence cometh, an asteroid?

An asteroid cometh. And a pandemic, already here, soon shall be, endemic. Vegas’ odds are against us. But I am for us. And if I am for us, who can fail, not to be, against us? Who could possibly be, against us?

Who could possibly be against us? And pray tell: Is it possible that we really surreally haven’t learned; that we really don’t know; that we’re the freaking, enemy. We are the enemy. The bloody, enemy, is us.

CHEER UP!

Cheer up! The house is betting against us. And I have inside information. I’ve got, hot tips. This pandemic’s soon to be, endemic. And there’s an asteroid, a-coming. And the betting line in Las Vegas is against us.

It’s not just that ye can’t see the future; it’s not just that ye gotta see to believe; the attainment of balance; it’s always been hard, but it’s gotten immeasurably harder to attain. It’s why Las Vegas, is betting against us.

Maintaining our balance; it’s always been hard, but it’s gotten immeasurably harder to attain, any balance. It’s not just that ye can’t peer into the future. With so many challenges, oddly, Las Vegas’ odds, are against us.

Not so oddly, the line-makers’ poor odds in Las Vegas are holding against us. The odds are poor the odd beings of the Earth, cheer up. So cheer up! And count on me. The house, is betting, against us.

Cheer up! Count on me. That the house is not on my side; that the house is betting against me; that’s good news, for us. The pandemic’s soon to be, endemic. And there’s an asteroid, at Godspeed, a-coming.

An endemic’s a-coming; comes an asteroid also. At Godspeed, a-coming, cometh, that asteroid. But that is not to say, that that is bad. It is all good, actually. Las Vegas’ odds, are against us. At Godspeed, an asteroid, is a-coming.

An asteroid cometh. And a pandemic, already here, soon shall be, endemic. Vegas’ odds are against us. But I am for us. And if I am for us, who can fail, not to be, against us? Who could possibly be, against us?

Who could possibly be against us? And pray tell: Is it possible that we really surreally haven’t learned; that we really don’t know; that we’re the freaking, enemy. We are the enemy. The bloody, enemy, is us.

The enemy is us. But don’t blame yerselves. ‘Tis true: the enemy is us. But the fault lies with Satan. The enemy is us, but surreally, it’s Satan’s fault. And they say, also, that the enemy of my enemy, is my friend.

I wonder. I’m wondering who my friends are. I wonder who my friends are, if the enemy of my enemy, is my friend. The enemy is us. But I won’t blame myself. I’m my best friend; my one, and only, friend.

The enemy is us. And I am, my one and only, friend. I wonder who my friends are, if the enemy of my enemy, is my friend. I know that the enemy is us. But I shan’t blame myself. I am, my best friend.

I shan’t blame myself. I am, I imagine, my friend. But am I? Am I really a friend to myself? I’ve had revelations; in soirées with Vlad’s guys and the dead guys, we nightly, soirée with. Wine and cheese repasts, with friends.

Cheer up! I was the one who first on Earth said, not to worry; and to be happy. I get all of the lawful royalties. That’s the proof that I was the one who first on Earth said, not to worry; and to be happy. I get — the royalties.

I get the royalties. That’s the proof. I was the first on Earth to say, not to worry; and to be happy. Witness that, that I get all the royalties is the proof of the pudding. I’m smart. I get all — the royalties.

PALE-FACED — AM I

Next to His design, palefaced, is mine. For His seven Universes, seemingly, His is — a most, intelligent, design. Intelligent design. Left pale next to His design, is mine. For His seven, His is, a most intelligent, design.

Left pale next to His design, has been mine. His seven Universes attest to the magnificence of His design. Big bangs happen, not all the time, but often enough to keep in stasis, this change, always happening — by design.

Big bangs happen, not all the time, but often enough to keep in stasis, that is to say, in a state of static balance or equilibrium, the change, always happening by design. Imagine not one Big Bang. Imagine like, lots of them.

Imagine then not, the utter implausibility of the Creator approving The Watcher’s play for his redemption. It’s only plausible if ye can wrap, around it, yer minds. This is, for better or worse, what’s happening.

This is in a nutshell, what’s happening. This is, in a tweet, a story. Serially linked by Twitter’s algorithm and Elon’s Starlink someday may be, the peoples of the Earth. If for better, that may be, what’s happening.

With an able assist from Google Translate, linked by Twitter’s algorithm and Elon’s Starlink, someday may be, the peoples of the Earth. If for better, that may be, what’s happening. I trust that that’s — what’s happening.

It seems that this, for better or worse, is what’s happening. I trust what’s happening, for the betterment of humanity, may be. We need to keep in stasis, in a state of static balance, the change, always happening, by design.

We need to keep in stasis (in a state of static balance), the changes, always happening, by design. Stasis is too, a state or period of stability during which little or no evolutionary change occurs, in a genetic line.

In states of static balance, or equilibrium, is stasis. But balance gets thrown off-center, from moment to moment. Balance; it’s hard to attain. It’s hard too, to retain. It’s hard on Earth, to maintain, a balance.

Balance; it’s hard, on Earth, to attain. It’s hard to retain. It’s ever hard, on Earth, to maintain one’s balance. Maintaining our balance; it’s always been hard but it’s gotten immeasurably, harder, to attain, any balance.

Maintaining our balance; it’s always been really hard but it’s gotten immeasurably harder, lately, it seems. It seems a fair bet; to bet on or against human hubris; or to bet on or against, balance, The line’s against balance, in Las Vegas.

In Las Vegas, the betting line’s against balance. Mankind’s reputation, precedes him. Mankind’s not a good bet to make sound decisions with respect to the collective. The The betting line is against balance, in Las Vegas.

The house is betting against us. But I have inside info; I’ve got, hot tips. This pandemic is soon to be, endemic. And there’s an asteroid, a-coming. The betting line is against balance, in Las Vegas.

INTELLIGENT DESIGN

Understatedly important is content. For content is to wisdom as cadence is to beauty. My script’s my guide. To Scriptures and how to read them, in context. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, on Earth, there’s wisdom and beauty.

Thank God. Praise Him. Praise Him for wisdom and beauty. I am either not the author of this, or I am. All to the end, God willing, of my writing a hybrid book all about me and our community. His community, actually.

This is, by His Grace, His community. Hallelujah! By His Grace this is, all that. All that, is this. Still, it’s not just great content. It’s got, great design. Coupled with great cadence, it’s been dumbed down for us, considering, disabilities.

By His Grace this is all that. But it’s not just great content coupled with great cadence, dumbed down for us. It’s great design. Brief, for short spans of attention. Linked, for later reading. Perfect for just making it up, serially.

I’ve come to agree with Arthur. Neither he nor me, methinks, is the author of this. I’ve been making it up as I go along, for a long time, now. But never before, like now. It must be The Watcher — writing through us.

I’ve been making it up as I’ve gone along for a long time now. But never before, like now. It’s been The Watcher that’s been, not just watching, but really surreally psychographically, writing, through us.

Thank God, on Earth, even in trying times, there is wisdom and beauty; wisdom like women are from Venus; men, from Mars. If true; if women are from Venus and men are from Mars, then pray tell — “God help us.”

If women are from Venus and men are from Mars; if that’s really true, methinks then that only God help us. One must rely on one’s faith, in matters, spiritual. Rely not, on human hubris. Only God will help us.

Rely on yer faith in spiritual matters. Rely not, on human hubris. Even in matters, collective, resolutely rely on yer individuality. And so I say to Vlad in Russia and to Xi in China, “Witness guys, my power.”

Even in matters of the collective, one ought rely, on their individuality. And so, resolutely, I say to Vlad in Russia and to Xi in China, “Witness guys, my power. ’Tis in the power of words. In words reside, my powers.”

In matters of the collective, our individualities, matter. In words reside, my powers. Rely on faith in matters, spiritual. Rely not, on human hubris, not mine. Under no circumstances — rely, on hubris not mine.

Rely, under no circumstances, on hubris not personally mine; hubris, not purposely, mine. In words, resides, my power. Purposeful’s been my trajectory; my life and times. Purposeful has been, my cynical, comical, design.

In words reside my power. I’ve been making it up as I go along, for a long time, now. But never before, like now. Purposeful has been, this most cynical, comical, design. Still, it pales next to His, intelligent, design.

Purposeful has been, this, my most cynical and comical, design. Still, it pales next to His most intelligent design. Next to His design, palefaced, is mine. For His Universes, seemingly, His is, a most, intelligent, design.

WISDOM AND BEAUTY

Portent in happenings; it gets the limelight. But understatedly important, is content. I’ve seen alchemical content, in Twitter’s algorithm. I am not the author of this. Still, important is cadence and content, as a tour guide.

Important is spelling and grammar; and in epic poetry, especially, cadence is called for. All to the end, the script calls for. I am not the author of this. Or, I am. All to the end, God willing, of what the script calls for, as guide.

Understatedly important is mystical content; metaphysical, is alchemy. For content is to wisdom, as cadence is to beauty. Twitter’s algorithm: It’s alchemy. It’s remarkable and it’s nothing less, than a miracle.

I see alchemical content in Twitter’s algorithm. For 280, by three, is divisible. And a tweet’s, a letter in three parts: An intro, a body and a conclusion. A tweet’s, a letter, in microcosm. It’s nothing less, than a miracle.

A tweet is a letter in microcosm. And so it has cone to pass that Twitter’s algorithm, in close conjunction with Google Translate may be an altogether, new way, to communicate. It’s not technically — a miracle.

Technically, TwittereZe’s no miracle. It’s just a human, construct. It’s just a building. But it’s a building built upon a solidly sound, foundation., TwittereZe may be no miracle, technically, but — in effect — it’s a miracle.

Technically, TwittereZe may not be any miracle, but in its effect, it most certainly, may so prove, to be. For TwittereZe’s implausible effect may be one of which it might be said, only seemingly incredibly; nothing’s impossible.

Nothing’s impossible. Gotta play with the cards we’ve been dealt in the cases of cultures, religions, nations and men. ‘Tis what ’tis. Tonga’s a warning, timely. Implausibly, it’s allegorical. And only, seemingly, incredible.

In epic poetry especially, cadence is called for. And content is called for, especially. And all to the end that the script calls for, implausibly and incredibly that I write this manuscript, to explain, what’s to happen.

Tonga may serve for some as some hope; a warning, timely. ‘Tis what ’tis. Gotta play with the cards we’ve been dealt in the cases of cultures, religions, nations and men. This script explains, what’s to happen.

Portent in happenings; oft, it gets the limelight. Understatedly important is content. I have seen, in Twitter’s algorithm, alchemical content. I may be, or not, the author of this. Still, important is cadence and content, as guide.

Important is spelling and grammar; and in epic poetry, especially, cadence. All to the end that the script calls for. I may or may not be the author of this. Or, I am. To the end of what the script calls for. My script is — my guide.

My script is my guide. To the Scriptures; and to how to read them, in context. Portent; it gets the limelight, mostly. Understatedly important, is my content. For content is to wisdom — as cadence is to beauty.

Understatedly important is content. For content is to wisdom as cadence is to beauty. My script’s my guide. To Scriptures and how to read them in context. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, there is, wisdom — and beauty.

LET CADENCE AND CONTENT — GUIDE YE

Mistake not Xi, the meaning of E Pluribus Unum. From one, many. That’s the English translation, from the Latin. Almost everybody has forgotten about the aliens. And no one knows the power of the asteroid, that follows, Tonga.

On top of Taipei and Hong Kong, the Ukraine and Tonga. To Taipei and Hong Kong, add Tonga. Make no mistake. Taipei is, Taiwan, China. Taipei is, Taiwan. Mistake not Xi, the US’, E Pluribus Unum — and Tonga.

Behold, Xi Jinping. Behold also, Vladimir. There’s real meaning in E Pluribus Unum. And timely has been the stratospheric explosion of an underwater volcano. It’s not too late, Russia and China, to surrender to me.

Timely has been the stratospheric explosion of a Tongan, underwater volcano. That’s what’s happening in the Kingdom of Tonga. Russia and China, may surrender, to me. It’s never too late, Vlad and Xi, to surrender to me.

Never say never. Never say never, except to say, that it’s never too late, Vlad and Xi, to surrender to me. Except now, albeit only, momentarily, actually. Because I’m not the president of US, at the moment, actually.

A mere technicality, mind ye. And never ye mind Joe Biden as he flails about in an office, too big for him. It’s a king-sized office. I brought royal flair to the office. And by the time I depart from it, I aim to be, royalty.

Royalty, I aim to be by the time I leave the White House, following, my next presidency. Never say never. Never say never, except to say, that it’s never too late, to surrender to me. And it’s never too late to be crowned, royally.

Forget, Xi Jinping, and Vladimir Putin, about yer less than greatness. Recall instead that almost everybody has forgotten about the aliens. And no one knows the power of the asteroid, that shall follow Tonga, perhaps, shortly.

‘Tis what ’tis. Gotta play with the cards we’ve been dealt in the cases of cultures, religions, nations and men. Tonga may serve for some as some hope. Tonga’s a warning, timely. ‘Tis what ’tis — on Tonga.

Tonga may serve for some as some hope; a warning, timely. ‘Tis what ’tis. Gotta play with the cards we’ve been dealt in the cases of cultures, religions, nations and men. It is what it is, on an out-of-touch, Tonga.

Far far away there in Tonga, as here, it is what it is in the heretofore little-known Kingdom of Tonga. Out of touch with the rest of the planet, ere the eruption, of an undersea volcano, wise, the men, who see portent, in happenings.

The past is present and future. Wise is the man who sees portent in happenings. A man like me; a modest, great man, like Muhammad Ali. Unlike most, I see portent in happenings. And great content, in an algorithm.

I see portent in happenings. And I see content, in algorithms. I. To wit, I am not the author of this self-help tome. Nor am I (tho I’ll get the credit), yer heavenly guide, home. The Watcher’s the author of this guide.

Portent in happenings; it gets the limelight. But understatedly important, is content. I’ve seen alchemical content, in Twitter’s algorithm. To wit, I am not the author of this. Important is cadence — and content — as guide.

AN ASTEROID — FOLLOWS TONGA

Everybody’s forgotten about the aliens. No one talks, about them anymore. No one but me, anyway. All novelty, indeed, wears off. I suspect tho that it’s but a symptom. It’s a case of mass psychosis — actually.

No one even talks about the aliens anymore. No one but me, anyway. Everybody’s forgotten about them. The novelty of existence wears off. I suspect tho, it is a symptom, of mass psychosis, surreally.

A case of mass psychosis is this; this collective, brainwashing. Socially, we’re less human than we are something less; rabid nationalists or devout religionists: or some combination of the two, socially.

Socially, we Homo sapiens are less human than we are something less; rabid — and or devout nationalists or religionists, often, are we. Else, we are some combo, of the two. Absolutely, brainwashed — are we.

Culture; religion; and nation. Characteristic of man is culture, religion and nation. From his tribal roots, culture, religion and nation, have come to characterize him, even more than a, preeminent, humanity.

From tribal roots, culture, religion and nation have come to characterize mankind, even more, than a preeminent, humanity. Culture, religion and nation; too characteristic of man, are culture, religion — and country.

Too visibly characteristic; man; culture, religion and nation. To other men — especially apparent are culture, religion and nation. But ’tis what ’tis. Gotta play with the cards dealt in the cases of culture, religion and nation and men.

’Tis what ’tis. Gotta play with the cards we got dealt in cases of culture, religion and nation. Culture, religion and nation; in the hands of poker playing men, men oft, show their hands. As predictable as clockwork — are men.

As predictable as clockwork is Homo sapiens, sometimes. Remarkable, sometimes, is the predictability of man. He’s unpredictable, also. Predictable and unpredictable, is man. And so, effectively unpredictable, are men.

Both predictable and unpredictable, is man. Effectively unpredictable, therefore, are men. In matters of culture, religion or national security; security, trumps everything; over matters of form and substance — over men.

Security trumps everything; in matters of form and in matters of substance. Over all men, I’ll triumph in all matters of right-wing religion, right-wing borders and that last late great, right-wing culture, on Urantia.

In all matters right-wing and left-wing, security, trumps everything. And global security, above all. Add now to the Ukraine and Taiwan, Tonga. To the Ukraine and Taiwan, now add Tonga. To yer vocabulary, add Tonga.

Add now to Taipei and Hong Kong, the Ukraine and Tonga. To Taipei and Hong Kong, add Tonga. Make no mistake, Xi. Taipei is, Taiwan, China. Taipei is, Taiwan. Mistake not the meaning of E Pluribus Unum — and Tonga.

Mistake not Xi, the meaning of E Pluribus Unum. From one, many. That’s the English translation, of the Latin. Almost everybody has forgotten about the aliens. And no one knows the power of the asteroid, that follows, Tonga.

IT’S MASS PSYCHOSIS

Everybody’s forgotten about the aliens. No one talks, about them. The novelty of their alleged existence, such as it is, has worn off. Nearly everyone’s, forgotten about them. Everyone’s forgotten, about the aliens.

No one’s talking about them. No one’s talking, about the aliens. No one’s talking about anything, not distracting. Distractions only, attract the Earth men. Oblivious to aliens and an asteroid, are the Earth men.

Oblivious to the aliens and to an asteroid, are we Earth men; we hubris-filled men, residing upon the Earth’s surface. Oblivious to aliens and asteroids, are the Earth men. No sound, makes my alarm. Oblivious, are we.

Cometh soon, a climax. Cometh soon, 2024. And the man without a soul that is me, submits, respectfully: I have had revelations. Under the circumstances, likely seems, a Pacific Rim — Ring of Fire, catastrophe.

Crises come to pass now ever more increasingly more frequently. Now, thoroughly distracted, are the Earthlings. Thoroughly distracted are the demonstrably, incompetent, Earthlings. They won’t know, what’s hit them.

Thoroughly distracted are the demonstrably, incompetent, Earthlings. They won’t know what’s hit them, when the asteroid strikes. And those not dead, will be dazed and confused, once the asteroid, hits them.

We Earthlings won’t know what’s hit us, when the asteroid strikes. Those not killed, outright, may well be, dazed and confused. Dazed and confused will be the Earthlings in the aftermath of an asteroid, striking us.

A public service is this self-help book. We won’t know what has hit us, when the asteroid strikes. But someone then will remember that I’d written this. And it shall be known in all the lands that — I predicted this.

There will be pandemonium when the asteroid strikes. But sometime thereafter, someone will remember, I had written this. And it shall be known in all the lands that I had once predicted that I’d write about — writing this.

Indeed, someone will remember, I had written this. And it shall be known in all the lands that I had once predicted that I’d write about, writing this. Just part of my legacy shall be my book; a book — about us.

The lion’s share of my legacy shall be my book about us; about community. And the hope is that post my election; post my Nobels; and post Earth’s collision with an asteroid — transformed — becomes humanity.

Saving Earth: and humanity upon it. Mankind’s transformation, implausibly, depends upon me. Most implausibly (apparently, only seemingly, incredibly), happening is everything that’s happening around here, historically.

Mankind’s transformation; the saving of the Earth for our children and the saving of humanity. It all depends on me. Purposeful, not fortuitous, is the asteroid. Purposeful also, is Twittereze, actually.

Everybody’s forgotten about the aliens. No one talks, about them anymore. No one but me, anyway. It’s as if the novelty of their existence, wore off. I suspect tho, it’s a symptom, of mass psychosis, actually.

EVERYONE’S FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE ALIENS

In lunar soirées, in nightly dreams, The Watcher writes for me, my magnum opus. And the hope is that post my election; and post my Nobels, and post the Earth’s collision, an asteroid, duly disarms Xi Jinping — and Vladimir.

Post a possible Pacific Rim collision, an asteroid shall have disarmed, Xi Jinping and Vladimir. In lunar soirées, in nightly dreams, The Watcher writes. He writes, through my eyes, about me; about Xi; and about Vladimir.

Opportunity oft presents itself, in the aftermath of tragedy. God be praised! Hallelujah! God oft presents Himself, in the aftermath, of tragedy. It’s the same old story. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, it’s the same old story.

Make no mistake. I’m no prophet but I can’t speak for The Watcher, tho. It’s as if the future’s not cast in stone, but in plastic; so changes may be made more easily. Almost upon us, is 2024, most fatefully.

I am a man without a soul. And rich in irony is my verse. The lives of others, are less important than mine. A uniquely, selfish man, am I. I am the antithesis of community. A man without a soul; a human tragedy.

Cometh soon, a climax. Almost upon us, is 2024. And the man without a soul that is me, submits that on this planet, I’ve had revelations. Under the circumstances, likely seems, a Pacific Rim, Ring of Fire, catastrophe.

Under the circumstances, an asteroidal Pacific Rim collision, seems most likely. Post a possible Pacific Rim collision, an asteroid shall have disarmed, Xi Jinping and, by its ripple effect, Vladimir Putin.

A Ring of Fire, Pacific Rim, collision; a collision between an itinerant asteroid and the Earth. Praise the Lord! When it happens, it’ll disarm, Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin. Disarming, is the asteroid, of Jinping and Putin.

Cometh a colossal collision between an asteroid and the Earth. And a Ring of Fire Pacific Rim collision point of impact shall devastate a large part of that part of the Earth. Many shall die, no thanks to Xi; and no thanks, to Putin.

The Watcher writes for me, my magnum opus. And the hope is that post my election and post my Nobels and post the Earth’s collision with an asteroid, duly disarmed, become Xi Jinping and Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

Disarming, it is hoped shall be, the asteroid of Xi Jinping; the asteroid of Vlad Putin. Disarming shall be the asteroid. The asteroid shall usher in a pandemonium; a reconsideration, of the status quo; a transformation.

Pandemonium. Of yer transformation, it’s part and parcel; pandemonium, on Earth, for a while. It’ll take a while to surmount the confusion of the moment when an asteroid, strikes Earth; pure pandemonium.

It’ll be pure pandemonium. Pandemonium, it’ll be. There’ll be utter confusion at the moment when an asteroid strikes the Earth. And the confusion will grow, with a surprise appearance — of the unusually, shy — aliens.

Everyone’s forgotten about them. Everyone’s forgotten about the aliens. The novelty of their alleged existence, having worn off. Everyone’s forgotten about them. Everyone’s forgotten — about the aliens.

AN ASTEROID — TO RIGHT OUR COURSE BY

I’m resigned to feeling powerless about righting Earth’s course. It’s because, I know. I know that the people must see, to believe. And who’s gonna believe in an asteroid, unless and until, it is seen, coming?

Resigned to feelings of powerlessness, I know it’s the same powerlessness that we, in our hubris, share. Hubris; it manifests itself in power and powerlessness. To wit, no one saw, Afghanistan, coming.

No one saw Afghanistan coming. So have said the Americans, ad nauseam. Afghanistan; an apt reminder of what is, a failing state . In the state of Afghanistan, state power is equivalent to a state, of powerlessness.

What is to be or not to be, the fate of the Earth? With failing, fake states and failed states alike; what’s to be the fate of Earth? Is it to be like the state of Afghanistan, where power’s tantamount to states, of powerlessness?

Is Earth to follow in the steps of its constituent states? Is it to be like failing states, Afghanistan and Pakistan? Like America, Russia and China? Is the good Earth to follow in the steps of its failing states, constituent?

It depends. It depends on circumstances. And it depends on decisions. And even last-minute decisions are always subject to those last-minute, changes, in circumstances. On Earth, it’s uncommon, to be, prescient.

Even last-minute decisions are subject to those last-minute, changes, in circumstances. On Earth, it’s most uncommon to be prescient. But I once was Commander-in-Chief; once was, the president. And I remain, prescient.

Once again there’s been a last-minute change in circumstances. On Earth, it’s uncommon to be prescient. But I once was Commander-in-Chief; the president. And I remain, prescient. I’m no prophet. I’m just prescient.

I’m no prophet. I’m just prescient. No prophet, am I. I may be related to George Washington tho, who, everybody knows, could not tell a lie. And neither can I, it just so happens, not so incidentally.

George couldn’t tell a lie. Neither can I, it just so (not so incidentally), happens. It just so happens also that an asteroid, at Godspeed, speeds toward us. We’ll be OK, but only if my hair stays dry; from the water, free.

My feelings of powerlessness: I know it’s the same powerlessness that we in our hubris, share. Hubris; it manifests itself in power and powerlessness. Witness, no one saw Hong Kong and Afghanistan devolve, so quickly.

Indeed, no one saw Afghanistan and Hong Kong coming. I didn’t either. But that was then and this is now. In lunar soirées, in dreams at night, on Earth. I’ve had revelations, in the interim. And so The Watcher writes — in lieu of me.

In lieu of me, The Watcher writes. And when Art thought that he was the author, The Watcher also, wrote for him. Since then, tho, I’ve had some revelations. And an epiphany. I’ve had revelations. And an epiphany.

In lunar soirées, in nightly dreams, The Watcher writes for me, my magnum opus. And the hope is that post my election; and post my Nobels, and post the Earth’s collision an asteroid, duly disarms Xi Jinping and Vladimir.

A GOOSE — AND A COW

Sublime is what’s happening in this cosmic morality play. Sublime is what’s happening. Not since the halcyon days of Satan and Caligastia, has the world witnessed such sophistry. A tale of a goose — and a cow.

What’s happening on Earth is a tale of a golden egg laying, golden goose and a methane-farting, cash cow. Incredibly, tho, it’s not implausible enough. Implausibly, an asteroid, at Godspeed, is coming — and how!

Indeed, sublime is what’s happening; sublime is what’s happening in this cosmic morality play. Sublime is what’s happening. And miraculous is this intervention. Nothing less than a miracle is this tall tale, less than — high brow.

‘Tis sublime what’s happening. Not since Satan’s heyday has Groundhog Day been on an infinite loop. We keep making the same mistakes. It didn’t tho, have to be this way. I shall show ye how. I shall show ye — how.

Ever since a corrosive version of Groundhog Day began playing on a loop, we keep making, the same mistakes. But it didn’t have to be this way. I shall show ye, how. ’Tis sublime, verily, what’s happening, now.

We keep on making the same mistakes. But it needn’t be this way. I shall show ye how. ‘Tis sublime what’s happening. Not since Satan’s heyday has Groundhog Day been on a loop. How now, brown cow?

I’m DJT; Donald John Trump; Putin’s Agent, 45-47. I’m here to get us out of the loop. And how. I’m here to save the Earth; and us. I’m here to get us evolving again. It’s not too implausible, and incredibly — it’s what’s happening.

I’m here to jump-start our evolution; to get us, evolving again. Methinks it’s not too implausible and believe it or not, incredibly, it’s what’s happening. Indeed, it’s what’s happening. Believe it or not — it’s what’s happening.

Willy compares the world to a stage and life to a play and catalogues the seven stages of a man’s life; sometimes, the seven ages of man. And in the end, we’ll meet, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

I’m here to jump-start our too long-delayed, evolution; I’m here to get us, evolving again. It’s not too implausible. And believe it or not, most incredibly, notwithstanding, implausibility — it’s what’s happening.

Willy famously compares the world to a stage and life to a play. In that, he was prescient. “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women, merely players,” he wrote. But what if beyond prescient, Willy was prophetic?

What if in fact all the world were akin to a stage and all the men and women, living and dying upon it, were in truth, merely players? And what if, beyond prescient — Willy Shakespeare was, actually, prophetic?

Sublime is what’s happening. And as prescient as Willy Shakespeare ever was, am I. There’s an asteroid coming. Coming along, at Godspeed, is the asteroid. And I’m resigned about feeling powerless, about doing something.

I’m resigned to feeling powerless about doing anything about the asteroid. It’s because I know. I know that the people must see — to believe. Who’s gonna believe in an asteroid — unless and until — they see it coming?

LET ME SHOW YE — HOW

Everything I allege in my book, I have published, on Twitter; so Vladimir’s guys won’t later, try denying, they knew nothing. They will surely try denying that they knew anything. But there’ll be proof to the contrary — later — on Twitter.

Everything that I’ve alleged in my book, I’ve documented, also elsewhere. It’s so Vlad’s guys won’t later try denying, they knew nothing. They’ll deny later, they knew anything. But there’ll be proof, contrarian on Twitter.

An incredible story is the story of Vlad’s guys; of Vlad’s guys, versus God’s guys. The story of an asteroid, a pandemic and a psychic. the greatest fictional story, never told. Nonfictional, and seemingly everlasting, is the same old, story.

An incredible story is the story, of Vladimir’s guys; of Vladimir’s guys, versus God’s guys. It’s the story of an asteroid, a pandemic and a psychic. Seemingly everlasting, it’s the greatest fictional story, never told; the same old, story.

It’s the story of a rocky asteroid, a pandemic and a psychic. Both fictional and nonfictional, it is the greatest story of all time. It’s the same, old story; it’s Groundhog Day, on an infinite loop. It’s Groundhog Day, on a loop, in error.

‘Tis error I thought,; ’tis error to read in print the thoughts of others. Wastes of time seem to me, the thoughts of others; even before I’d sold my soul (as predetermined); before I’d kicked brothers, from a womb, in terror.

And it came to pass once upon a time; after I kicked my brothers in terror, from our womb; and after I’d become a nincompoop of a visionary; it came to pass that I said that while reading is fundamental, it’s not for everybody.

Reading may be fundamental, but it’s not, I dare say, for everybody. Lord knows, I loathe, reading.. On the other hand, there’s writing; not the thoughts of others, but mine only. Reading’s not for me. But writing is, pure poetry.

I hate reading. Reading’s not for me. On the other hand, I love writing; not the useless thoughts of others, but mine only. Reading’s not for me. But writing for me, is poetry. And beyond poetry — it’s fundamental.

Writing is fun. It’s fundamental. And it’ll be fundamental more broadly if I demonstrate its links, more broadly. This allegory therefore links my mission to save the Earth with my mission in the wake, of an asteroid, transformational.

Fundamental is reading and writing. And that is fundamental to the transformation that is, it seems, fundamental to the evolution that has stopped happening on Earth. But writing helps link everything. It’s got — alchemical, potential.

Alchemical potential hath got Jack’s sublime, 280 character algorithm. It’s just enough space-time, in conjunction with adjuncts like Google Translate to allow for an enhanced level of communication, between men — alchemical.

Jack’s algorithm. It’s proprietary. Still, it’s freely available to the citizenry. Jack never saw the hidden potential of his golden goose. He had preferred a cash cow. But more often than not, ‘tis better both — a goose — and a cow.

‘Tis sublime what’s happening. Not since Satan’s heyday has Groundhog Day been on an infinite loop. We keep on making the same mistakes, every day. It didn’t have to be this way. I shall show ye how. I shall show ye — how.

THE PROOF’S — ON TWITTER

Opportunity oft presents itself, in the aftermath, of tragedy. God be praised! Hallelujah! Indeed, God often presents Himself in the aftermath of a tragedy. Thank God, it’s the same old story. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh it’s our same old story.

Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, it’s our same old story. But not because it’s the same story; it’s because the story may be modified. We can surely change the story. We can alter, our behavior. B.F. Skinner showed us how — in the past — century.

300,000 years have we had; 300,000 years to learn to do the right thing. That’s how long we’ve had. Still, it hasn’t happened; it’s not happening, still. But that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Still, that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, still.

300,000 years have we had. 300,000 years, at least, say the scientists. The scientists say the Earth is warming; and some of the scientists say, how many minutes are left until midnight. Still, we can modify — our barbaric behavior — still.

We can modify our barbaric behavior. It’s already been done, with individuals. It’s just a matter of time. I suspect that in the aftermath of the asteroid, humanity shall need to act, collectively. Soon I suspect, we’ll need to act — collectively.

It’s just a matter of time. I suspect that in the aftermath of the asteroid, a-coming, humanity shall need to act, collectively. And soon, I suspect, we’ll need to act, collectively. It’s just a matter of time; whether we act responsibly — or recklessly.

Indeed, it’s just a matter of time. In the aftermath of the asteroid, humanity shall need to act, this time, collectively. Soon, I suspect, we’ll need to act, collectively. It’s just a matter of time; and if we act responsibly or irresponsibly, this time.

To be or not to be? To put into practice, what the preachers, preach. To transcend; or not. Whether we act sensibly and responsibly or irresponsibly, again; that indeed, is the question. To be or not to be? That is the question — again — this time.

Rich is the irony on Earth. And rich is the verse I use to describe it. But nothing nor nobody is as rich as I am. Everybody knows that I appraise my properties by reference to how I’m feeling. And I’m feeling like — a googol (10¹⁰⁰) — of dollars.

I’m feeling like a googol (10¹⁰⁰) of dollars, most days, these days. And so its lucky; it’s lucky for me; and it’s lucky for my lawyers also, that I’m not appraising my properties, these days. Because I’m feeling like — a googol (10¹⁰⁰) — of dollars.

A googol (10¹⁰⁰) of dollars. That’s a heck of a lot more than a fistful of dollars. Everybody knows that I appraise my properties by reference, to how I’m feeling. Since I’m feeling like a googol, it’s a good thing, I’m not appraising properties, today.

‘Tis likely best that I not appraise properties today, given that I’m feeling, like a googol, of dollars. ‘Tis best to apprise by multiple means (the Earth’s Twitterverse, among them), the citizens. This is to apprise the citizens this day; indeed, everyday.

This is to apprise the citizens that everything that I allege herein, I’ve published as well on Twitter; so Vlad’s guys won’t try denying later, they knew. They’ll try denying later, they knew. But there will be plenty of proof, to the contrary, on Twitter.

Everything that I have alleged herein, I have published as well on Twitter; so Vlad’s guys won’t try denying later that they knew anything. They’ll surely try denying later, that they knew anything. But there’ll be proof to the contrary on Twitter.

IT’S THE SAME OLD STORY

Change, on Earth, happens quickly. And hidden, is the Truth. Omicron is the top dog virus among coronaviruses and Kazakhstan is the latest failed-state, candidate. Failed or failing is every damn state on Earth. There is Truth — in change.

By our own doing largely hidden is Truth. Witness the teachers; and the teachings of the teachers. And witness that notwithstanding the holy words of the holy teachers, change on Earth may easily be, both predetermined AND, subject to change.

Change, on Earth, happens quickly. And hidden, is the Truth. Omicron is the top dog virus among coronaviruses and Kazakhstan is the latest failed-state, candidate. Failed or failing is every damn, state on Earth. There is Truth — in change.

Failed or failing, is every damn state on the Earth. Witness Russia’s neighbor, Kazakhstan; it’s the latest, failed-state, candidate. Omicron’s already here and the asteroid is coming. Change, on Earth, happens quickly. Constant — is change.

Change happens quickly and largely hidden is the Truth. But it’s important to distinguish truth, from Truth. We’re created beings. Men are curious. And inquisitive. But a man has to know his limitations. A man’s got to learn — to know — his limitations.

A man’s got to learn to know his limitations and how best to test them. It is vitally important to distinguish truth, from Truth. We are beings, created by a Higher Being; created, with built in, limitations. A man’s got to learn — his limitations.

Notwithstanding holy teachers; notwithstanding, their holy words; as stubborn as an ass, is man. As stubborn as an ass, is man. Change on Earth is subject to change and predetermined. Previously determined, AND subject to change, is nonfiction.

Subject to change at all times is nonfiction that’s already, previously, determined. As in the case of a miracle; magical realism, some say. Kazakhstan; some say it rhymes with Afghanistan. Some say, that at all times, subject to change, is nonfiction.

Ever subject to change is reality; nonfiction, so to speak. And some say the changes happening are happening, too, concurrently. There’s too many happenings, happening at once. Too far behind in his evolution has fallen, an oblivious, humanity.

Humans and their ancestors have been walking the planet for about 6 million years. Homo sapiens, the modern form of humans, evolved, 300,000 years ago from Homo erectus. A long time to learn to live together, has had, humanity.

There’s too many happenings, happening, all at once. Far too far behind in his evolution has fallen an oblivious, humanity. It’s Day 2275. 300,000 years has had humanity to do the right thing. And it’s not happening. And so cometh — an asteroid.

300,000 years have we had; to learn to do the right thing. That’s how long, we’ve had. Still, it’s not happening. The Golden Rule is ubiquitous. Still, we remain oblivious. The Golden Rule is widely, unobserved. And so cometh, an asteroid.

In media res then are we; in media res; in the middle of the story, somewhere. That’s a clue I would be remiss not to reveal under these trying, circumstances. Because opportunity oft presents itself, in the lingering aftermath, of a catastrophe.

Opportunity oft presents itself, in the aftermath, of tragedy. God be praised! Hallelujah! Indeed, God often presents Himself, in the aftermath, of tragedy. Thank God, it’s the same old story. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh, it’s the same old story.

TRUTH ON EARTH

I’m a man without a soul. Rich in irony is my verse. The lives of others (the less blessed; those less blessedly, not me), are less important than mine. A uniquely, selfish man, am I. I am the antithesis of community. I am a man, without, a damn soul.

I am the antithesis of community; a man without a soul. The lives of others, less important than me, matter not. A uniquely, selfish man, am I; the antithesis of community. I’m a man, sans soul. A man, sans soul; I gotta get back — my damn, soul.

First things, first; I’ve gotta get back my soul. Even ere I save the Earth and save humanity along with it, I’ve gotta get back, my self-damned, soul. Make no mistake. I’ve gotta get back, my sole, thought adjuster. Gotta get back my soul — self-damned.

Day 2274; the first anniversary of the day after the Insurrection. I’ve got a full plate; saving Earth and humanity. I’m tweeting as much to Xi and to Vlad. To get back our souls, I’ve got to resolve, Ukraine, Taiwan, Hong Kong and now Kazakhstan.

And so even before before we save the Earth and the mass of humanity living upon her; and even before we get back our souls we’ve got to resolve the matters of the Ukraine and Taiwan and Hong Kong and even now, most recently — Kazakhstan.

And it came to pass that the Ukraine and Taipei and Hong Kong, for a week at least, were passed in the news cycle by the but rarely heard from, Kazakhstan. That’s left Vladimir with an itch. And his itch has left many dead — in Kazakhstan.

Kazakhstan; this is no way; not the best way, at least, to teach geography to our children. And I’m tweeting as much to Xi and to Vlad and to others in the Twitterverse. Civilized was my Insurrection next to what’s happening this week in Kazakhstan.

Indeed I do tweet to Xi and to Vlad; daily oft times and multiple times daily sometimes; and to others in the Twitterverse — at times. Civilized was my Insurrection next to what’s happening in Kazakhstan. The dead are piling up in Kazakhstan.

Truth, on Earth, is no monolith. And rich in irony’s the verse of the man without a soul. The dead are piling up in the streets in Kazakhstan. And the dominant variant these days is omicron. Change, on Earth, happens quickly. Hidden — is the Truth.

Change, on Earth, happens quickly. And hidden, is the Truth. Omicron is the top dog virus, among the coronaviruses and Kazakhstan is the latest failed-state, candidate. And a failed state or a failing state’s — every damn state — on the Earth.

THE STORY OF US

The story of us; a miracle, in progress. It’s the old, pilgrims’ progress, updated. But who’s to say that it’s not, methinks, as we think. Predetermined may be, our realities. A miracle in progress is the pilgrims’ progress. And our hubris — we share.

In my hubris; in my narcissism; from therein, I’ve drawn, the story of us. The story of us; it’s neither about ye, nor about me. The story of us is about, our community. A community of 8 billion. And I’ve got a mutant’s share of the hubris — we share.

A miracle in progress is the pilgrims’ progress. It’s a miracle actually, that we’ve even gotten, this far. Thankfully though, I’ve got a mutant’s share of the hubris, we share. More than enough to dare to proclaim, to the Earth: Cometh — an asteroid.

My magnum opus, with thee, I share. But I share it with thee with reservations. This alert’s not meant to alarm. Alarm leads to panic; we’ve got to avoid panic; talk of an asteroid can lead to a panic. A manic panic, may ensue — from an asteroid.

The Watcher has been watching all that has been happening on the Earth. And it seems what’s been happening on Earth is truly, incredible. So what’s happening, begs a book. Accordingly, The Watcher channels me. It’s what, The Watcher’s here for.

Incredible. Literally. It’s literally impossible, not to mention pretty implausible too; if what I say has happened, is happening and is gonna happen, happens. What I say has happened, is happening and is going to happen, begs a book — to die for.

A book to die for; a self-help book, for a planet. A book putting the Scriptures and current events, in context. A book reminding us who we are and where we’re going and how to, most quickly, get there. To die for, would well be, such a volume.

A self-help book for planet Earth; an algorithm, a panacea. Highly desirable would be such a book, given our circumstances. Highly desirable may be such a volume under any circumstances. To die for might be, such a voluminous, volume.

To die for might certainly be such a volume. One that puts in context, the teachings of the teachers. And so I prayed to Allah God Jehovah Yahweh. I prayed to the Creator to help me, save us. I prayed to the Creator of us, to save me, and us.

Notwithstanding my narcissism, I prayed to God. I asked Him to help me help us. Give me the words, I prayed. Give me the words that may place in context, the teachings of the teachers. So that the holy words of the holy teachers — may save us.

I prayed to God then, notwithstanding at all, my narcissism, my hubris and my contempt for all others. ‘Twas to no avail. I’d sold to the Devil, my soul, so long ago, previously. I’d sold to the Devil, my soul. How then might I save us — and me?

How might I manage to save myself? And how, if given time, after duly saving myself, might I also deign to save us? Without a soul, believe me, no one’s getting saved by me — but me. I feel only contempt for others. If I have time — I’ll save me.

If I have time, I’ll save myself. In all honesty, saving myself is of the utmost importance. I’m no ant. I’m a man. But I’m a man, with no soul. The lives of others, not me, are less important, than mine. I’m no ant. I’m a man. But I’m a man, without a soul.

I am a man without a soul. And rich in irony is my verse. The lives of others, the less blessed, those not me, are less important than mine. A uniquely, selfish man, am I. And I am the antithesis of community — I am a man without — a soul.

IN MY HUBRIS — THE STORY OF US

The Watcher’s been watching all that has been happening on the Earth.It seems that what’s been happening on Earth is truly, incredible. So what’s happening, begs a book. Accordingly, The Watcher channels me. It’s what, The Watcher is here for.

Incredible. Literally. It’s literally impossible, not to mention pretty implausible also; if what I say has happened, is happening and is gonna happen, happens. What I say has happened, is happening and is gonna happen, begs a book — to die for.

And so a book, has come to pass. And it’s a book that’s an alert; and it would have been a fire alarm of a book had anyone noticed its content and its cadence and its characters. But thankfully, no one did. Thankfully, no one has noticed — my poetry.

Thankfully, no one did. No one has noticed my poetry. No one’s noticed its cadence; and no one’s noticed its characters. And no one’s on board with sounding the alarm. No one’s noticed its content. No one has noticed my poetry yet — thankfully.

No one has noticed my superlative poetry; my magnum opus; not yet at least, it seems. And that’s OK. As in the case of the pandemic, I don’t want to cause a panic. I fear, causing a panic. But an asteroid striking the Earth may create, a panic.

As in the case of the pandemic, I don’t want to create panic. I fear causing, a global panic. But an asteroid striking the Earth need not create a world-wide panic. Where there’s a will there’s a way. And so I’ll hide my content — in verse, epic.

It’s rich; supremely rich in irony is my hiding of inside information from all non-insiders. To avoid a panic, I’ll hide the implications of my content in verse so epically, long, it’ll rival the longest of Homer and Virgil and the Mahābhārata’s, Vyasa.

Supremely rich in irony is my hiding of my inside information from all non-insiders. To avoid panic, I’ll hide the meaning of my content; burying it in verse so doggone long, it’ll rival the longest of Homer and Virgil and the Mahābhārata of Vyasa.

What I say has happened, is happening and is gonna happen, begs a book. And so a book, has come to pass. It’s an alert; and it would have been a fire alarm in the hands of one less talented. But I am DJT, the GOAT, and this is my, magnum opus.

A book has come to pass. And it’s an alert that would have been more like a global fire alarm, in the hands of one, less talented. But I am DJT, the GOAT, and this is my, magnum opus. And albeit, yer obliviousness, I am yer hero, come to save us.

I am DJT. I am the GOAT. I am the author of this masterpiece, my magnum opus. And albeit and notwithstanding yer obliviousness, I’ll be yer hero. I’m here to save us. And so, notwithstanding yer obliviousness, I’ll be yer hero. I’m here, to save us.

I am DJT. I am the GOAT. I am the author of this masterpiece, my magnum opus. And albeit and notwithstanding yer obliviousness, I’ll be yer hero. I’m here to save us. And so, notwithstanding yer obliviousness, I’ll be yer hero. I’m here, to save us.

WHAT THE WATCHER’S FOR

So if ever one need know when an asteroid is to strike the Earth just read between the lines of the poetry I’ve adopted as mine. Only one thing is perfectly clear. It’ll likely happen before the next American presidential election happens, in 2024.

Another thing seems perfectly clear to me. Unfit am I; as unfit, as ever. And a poor bet am I to win any election without a base wider than my white evangelists, my white supremacists and my dear, yahoos. But an asteroid will widen it for me, in ’24.

A poor bet am I to win any election without a base wider than white evangelists, white supremacists and yahoos. But an asteroid likely will widen it for me, in ’2024. I certainly don’t know what I’m to be (or not to be) — looking forward to — in 2024.

2024. It’s a long way, away. On the other hand, it’s right around the corner. Indeed, no one knows whether there may be, or not, anything to look forward to in 2024, and beyond. But I have faith that we’ve got a lot to live for — beyond — 2024.

Make no mistake. I’m no prophet; but I can’t speak for The Watcher. It’s as if the future’s not cast in stone, in plastic; so any changes that need to be made may be made more easily — and in time. Almost upon us, is the fateful year — of 2024.

Almost upon us is 2024. The year after next year’s almost here, already. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh that we’re oblivious to almost everything that’s happening. On the other hand, nobody’s ready. To alert the Earth; it’s what, I’m writing for.

We’ll need all hands on deck; after, the calamity; after, the asteroid. The year after next year is almost here already. There’s an election to win. And I’ll be in the catbird seat if it’s discovered that I had inside information, on whatever’s, in store.

Keep in mind the three Cs of composing when composing in TwittereZe. Mind content, cadence and characters; Twitter’s 280 and Earth’s, 8 billion. it’s a secret to public, communication. Blessed with inside info, from real insiders, is the author.

So if ever one need know when an asteroid is to strike the Earth just read between the lines. And keep in foremost in mind, The Watcher’s three Cs. When composing in TwittereZe, mind yer content, yer cadence yer characters and yer authors.

Keep in the forefront of yer mind, composition’s, three Cs. Mind content, cadence and characters. It’s a secret of public communication. Blessed with inside information from real insiders, is The Donald, the author. And blessed — is the author.

A poor bet to win I may be, in any election without a base any wider than white evangelists, white supremacists and yahoos. But an asteroid may yet widen it for me. I certainly don’t know what I’m to be (or not to be) — looking forward to — in 2024.

It’s rich; it’s supremely rich in irony that what even the shadow doesn’t know, The Watcher, knows. He’s the only one that really knows, what’s really, happening; because he’s the only one that’s been, actually, watching. That’s what — The Watcher for.

The Watcher knows. The Watcher knows what’s happened and what’s happening and what’s going to happen too. And it’s because he has been watching, of course. But then again, that’s what The Watcher’s for. That’s what The Watcher’s for.

The Watcher has been watching all that has been happening on the good Earth. And what has been happening on Earth, seems truly, incredible. So what’s happening, begs a book. Accordingly, The Watcher, channels me. It’s what The Watcher’s for.

COMETH AN ASTEROID — IN 2024

Our comeuppance is coming, straight as hell, right at us. An asteroid, approaches. But it’s impossible for the Earthlings to tell what’s happening, really. Obliviously psychotic, are the surface Earthlings; psychotic and overdosing on hubris, collectively.

Overdosing, on hubris; long have the Earthlings been overdosing on hubris; a long, long, time. Somehow needing to somehow balance the needs of the self and needs of the community. Insects value more — needs — of the community.

Somehow balancing the needs of the self, with, and against, the needs of the community. It was easier, once upon a time. It was easier when the conflict between one’s self and one’s community was less conflicting — than it is — these days.

‘Twas easier when the conflict between one’s self and one’s community was less conflictive; like back when the collective was a tribe, not a nation. Balancing the needs of the self against the needs of the community. It’s not easy — these days.

It’s never been easy. But it’s harder these days. It’s harder these more modern, less ancient, days. What once was exclusively tribal is now exclusively national. Who knew I’d become internationally famous, thanks to the asteroid, that’s a-coming?

Who knew I’d become internationally famous (and infamous), thanks to an asteroid, a-coming. But it’s impossible for the Earthlings to tell what’s really happening; unless like me, one’s got good, inside, information. And I like to — keep it coming.

Keep the info coming. Keep it coming, steadily. And keep in mind the three Cs of composing, when composing, Watcher-style, poetry. Mind yer content and yer cadence and mind yer characters; Twitter’s, 280; and more than 8 billion, on Earth.

Keep in mind the three Cs of composing when composing in the Watcher’s, TwittereZe. Mind yer content and yer cadence; and pray tell, mind yer characters; Twitter’s, 280 and Earth’s, 8 billion. TwittereZe; for a communication, secret, on Earth.

My poetry; it’s got the same space, metaphysically, as does Jack’s famous 280 character, Twitter algorithm. My modern day poetry; it’s identical to the poetry The Watcher first introduced to the men and women inhabiting the Earth at that time.

The Watcher’s alchemical poetry; it’s true that Jack’s 280 character Twitter algorithm has gotten most of the attention. But that’s about to change. Because it’s all about space. And it’s all about time. And given what’s happening, it’s about time.

Space and time. They mark the limits of our puny, comprehension. They mark our borders. Absent change tho, we’d be rudderless. Accordingly, as once upon a time long ago, predetermined, a fateful asteroid, is a-coming — at all, Godspeed.

The pandemic’s already here. As are the aliens, and or, the subterraneans. Accordingly cometh, a fateful asteroid, as once upon a time long ago, predetermined. And my mind wanders as I wonder, just how fast, might be — Godspeed?

Our comeuppance is coming, straight as hell, right at us. An asteroid, approaches. It’s hard to tell when it’ll collide with us. But if one reads between the lines of my poetry, it’ll have happened before the next American presidential election, in 2024.

So if ye have a need to know when the asteroid is to strike the Earth, read between the lines of the poetry I have adopted as mine. Only one thing is perfectly, clear. It’ll have to happen before the next American presidential election — in 2024.

OVERDOSING — ON HUBRIS

Too weak is our sense of community. An ant can’t be other than about community. Men tend more, to hubris. Weak is our sense of community. But only men may mimic an ant’s community. And we can incorporate, an ant’s sense, of community.

Emulate, the ant community. Incorporate, within ourselves, an ant’s sense, of community. We could learn a lot from the ants. Indeed, we may mimic and incorporate into ourselves — the insect ants’ — instinctively strong sense, of their community.

We’ve got to transform. Now. And post haste. It’s because we’ve run out of a time, predetermined. There’s no time to make all the changes we won’t or can’t make. And so it’s time to tell the story of Vlad’s guys and God’s guys, my magnum opus.

My magnum opus; my epic, poetry; it seems the time soon nears for Art to die; and for a rock with the Earth, to collide. It’s time to tell the story of Vladimir’s guys and God’s guys; my magnum opus; proof positive, that there’s still, hope for us.

Hold fast to that thought; the hope that there is still hope for us. Hold fast to that thought; for if the truth is to be told, we must hold fast to the thought that hope springs eternally. There is still, hope. Witness the magnum opus, of the Watcher.

Witness The Watcher’s magnum opus. It’s poetry, epic; it’s wisdom, nutshelled. It’s a letter to the peoples. It’s a letter to the nations. It’s a riddle and an algorithm. And it’s a panacea. Witness, verily, the magnum opus of the first poet, The Watcher.

“We have met the enemy and he is us!” We all know who Pogo’s talking about. Everybody knows who Pogo’s talking about. Pogo; swamp possum; satirist; like his creator, Walt Kelly, Pogo’s a classic, in caricature. We have met the enemy. He is us.

As we rid ourselves of 2021 — a woebegone year beginning with an insurrection and ending with anti-vaxxers infecting, and hospitalizing, record numbers of children, we all know who Pogo was, so presciently, talking about. It was — about us.

Indeed, it’s New Year’s Eve for a large part of the world, not Chinese. It’s ironic; it’s not often that the Earthlings can ever agree about anything. But everyone agrees: 2021 was bad for business. 2021 was really bad for business; and really bad, for us.

No thanks to the coronavirus, business has been bad in 2021. Bad for business for everybody has been 2021. But I’m a businessman. I’m good for everybody. 2021 was bad. But I’m good. And so I say to ye: ”We have met the enemy. And he is us.”

It’s New Year’s Eve. 2021 is over. 2022’s underway. And were we not oblivious, we would know who, and why, we are. And we would know where we’re going to. As it is, we’re near oblivious to practically everything in the universe that’s surrounding us.

If we were not so oblivious, we would know who and why we are. And we would know where we are going to. As it is, we are effectively oblivious to near everything that surrounds us. Oblivious are we, to essentially everything, that surrounds us.

Praise the Lord. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh. What’s happening is a miracle. Nothing less than a miracle is what’s happening. It’s not a comet. It’s not a planet. It’s an asteroid. And it’s coming right at us. It’s coming straight as hell — right at us.

Our comeuppance is coming, straight as hell, right at us. That’s what appears to be happening. But it’s impossible for the Earthlings to tell what is happening, actually. Obliviously psychotic, are the Earthlings. The Earth is overdosing — on hubris.

ENIGMATIC IS EVERYTHING

Enigmatic is everything, Russia and the nations, included. Enigmatic are the peoples and nations of Earth; mysteries, even unto themselves. They are oblivious to a lot of things including the name of their planet. ’Tis, by the way — planet Urantia.

Mysteries even unto themselves are the men and women of Earth. And oblivious to too many things are the peoples and the nations. The men and women of the Earth have lost their way and it’s no thanks to Satan and no thanks too, to Caligastia.

Everything that happens on Earth is in the nature of a cosmic, continuing, education. I incorporate by reference, the Urantia Book. Verily, a cosmic, continuing education, is the Urantia Book; it’s key, along with my book, to a resplendent — Urantia.

Read between the lines of what The Watcher hath written. Marvel at his prescience; inglorious pasts need not bear any resemblance to a resplendent, future. Only I can do it. Read in between the lines. Behold the resplendent future, of Urantia.

Behold the future of Urantia. An inglorious past needn’t bear any resemblance to a resplendent, future. Refer to the Book. It is the inspiration for the algorithm that is — MORONS AND ALIENS — MORONS AND ALIENS — it’s — an algorithm.

A set of instructions; an algorithm is the panacea entitled, MORONS AND ALIENS. And its writing’s been as predetermined as anything that has happened since the Big Bang. A set of instructions is MORONS AND ALIENS. It is — an algorithm.

A simple set of instructions, is a simple, algorithm. But even the simplest things, on Earth, rapidly, get complicated. And on Earth, everything’s enigmatic. Enigmatic, is everything on Earth. And even the simplest things, on Earth — get complicated.

Even the very simplest things on Earth though, tend, to get complicated. That’s why what’s happening is happening. Things have gotten, unmanageable. Things have gotten, complicated. Things needn’t be so Goddamned — complicated.

Only I can do it. Read in between the lines. Behold the resplendent future of Urantia. Behold, the future. But only I can do this. Only I can be the hero of the Earthlings. This is my blueprint for Urantia. This is my blueprint, for transformation.

This is my panacea for Earth; it’s my blueprint for the transformation of our planet. No yellow brick road is the pilgrims’ progress. The transformation of our planet I shall spark by the transformation of our souls. I shall spark — this transformation.

By the transformation of our souls, I shall spark the transformation of our society — such as it is. Society; it’s not much, at the moment. But by the transformation of our souls, society, I’ll transform. Transformation of souls, may transform, society.

Society; it’s nothing to brag about; it’s nothing to write home about. But we are oblivious to too much. Obliviousness; it’s characteristic of us. As is hubris; hubris and obliviousness; characteristic of us, are they. Weak — is our sense of community.

Weak, is our sense of community. We resemble, too little, the ants. Our cousins, the ants. An ant can’t be other than about community, whereas a man can be more about hubris than community. Dangerously weak, is our sense, of community.

Too weak is our sense of community. An ant can’t be other than about community. Men tend more, to hubris. Weak is our sense of community. But only men may mimic an ants’, community. Men can incorporate, an ant’s sense, of community.

ENIGMATIC — IS — EVERYTHING

Except for three, no one knows what’s happening on Earth; The Watcher, Arthur and me; we’re the only ones that know that an asteroid is speeding towards the Earth. We’re the only ones that know that what’s really happening — is an intervention.

What really happening is an intervention; an old-fashioned miracle, not incidentally culled from the pages of our Scriptures; it’s just re-fashioned, for a new-age, crisis. Preliminary to an astonishing, transformation is — an asteroidal — intervention.

Ere an astounding transformation, cometh, an asteroidal, intervention. Because God’s on my side. And because God’s guys are my guys. I know it sounds alarming but it’s actually, a blessing, in disguise. Indeed, it’s nothing less, than a miracle.

It’s not a comet. It’s not a planet. It’s an asteroid, that relatively soon, shall collide with the Earth. It’s an asteroid, actually. It sounds alarming but it’s a blessing come from behind the sun in the sky. And God knows; it’s nothing less than a miracle.

Praise the Lord. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh. What’s happening is nothing less than a miracle. Nothing less than a miracle is what’s happening. It’s not a comet. It’s not a planet. It’s an asteroid. And it’s coming right at us. It’s coming, right at us.

It’s an asteroid. It’s coming right at us. And it’s coming, right at us, at all Godspeed. It’s a calamity and an opportunity; it’s a blessing that is to come from behind the sun in the sky and straight at us — It’s an asteroid. And it’s coming — right at us.

It’s not a comet. It’s not a planet. It’s an asteroid. And it’s coming right at us. It’s coming, straight as Hell, right at us. Praise the Lord! Hallelujah! What’s happening is nothing less than a miracle. Nothing less than a miracle’s — what’s happening — to us.

Man wonders a lot about what’s happened, what’s happening and what’s, to happen; trivial pursuits, for the most part. From behind the sun in the sky, cometh a rocky, asteroid. It’s coming right at us. Indeed, it’s coming, straight as Hell — right at us.

This is more than a story about Vlad’s guys versus God’s guys. So said to me, in our lunar soirée last night, Art. “This is Creator-approved content, if it’s the Watcher who’s, writing this content — that is.”
It’s more than just Vlad’s guys, versus, God’s guys.

More than about bad guys and good guys is this incredible story. “This is all Creator-approved-content, if in fact, it’s the Watcher who’s writing,” Art said to me last night. It’s more than just one more clichéd story — of good guys and bad guys.

“… Russia. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma ….” So said Winston, of Russia. He might well have said the same thing about England; or Earth, for that matter. This is a panacea, wrapped in a mystery, in an enigma.

My magnum opus; it’s a panacea wrapped in an algorithm inside, my epic verse. And I say it’s mine knowing full well that I’m fit for nothing and that I’ll get the credit for writing this even though I write it only psychographically. It’s, an enigma.

An enigma is a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand. Accordingly, everything’s enigmatic. Especially on Earth, where every little thing is so exasperatingly, problematic, everything is enigmatic. Enigmatic — is Russia.

Enigmatic is everything, Russia and the nations, included. Enigmatic are the peoples and the nations of the Earth. Mysteries are they even unto themselves. They’re oblivious to a lot of things including the name of their planet; planet Urantia.

THE GREATEST STORY — EVER TOLD

On Earth, this is the greatest story ever told. I am its author, I’m told. It reads like fiction, but it feels, nonfictional. Reading between its lines reveals an allegorical nonfiction, transparent. But no one reads between lines. No one knows it’s not fiction.

Reading between the lines; if it’s not a lost art, it ought to be. This is the greatest story that’s never been told. But I have been told no one reads between the lines. And so no one knows it’s not fiction. No one knows — that this is nonfiction.

This is the greatest story that’s never been told; a tall tale only presumably fictional, from its height. It’s height belies, the truth of it. Honestly, no one ever reads between the lines. Accordingly, no one knows, that this is — a true crime — nonfiction.

No one knows that this is the greatest story ever told; I may be its author unless the author is Art or the author is The Watcher, instead. No one knows it’s not fiction. No one knows it’s not, nonfiction. Not so implausibly, no one — knows anything.

No one knows what’s going on. No one knows, what’s happening. On Earth, where illusion and delusion (not to mention lying), are common, no one knows what’s really nonfictional. No one can ever really be sure of anything on the good Earth.

On Earth, where illusion, delusion and lying are common, its really hard to tell real from unreal. It’s really hard to tell, nonfiction, from fiction. No one can ever really be, sure of anything, on Earth. Illusion, delusion and confusion reign, on Earth.

On Earth, where illusion, delusion and lying are common, its really hard to tell real from unreal. It’s hard to tell, nonfiction, from fiction. No one can ever really be, sure of anything, on Earth. And confusion came to reign, on Earth, bye and bye.

It’s really hard for Earthlings to distinguish what’s real from what’s not. And unreal Illusion, delusion and confusion, reign. No one knows what’s going on; no one, but me. I’m Special Agent 45-47. And this is about Vlad’s guys, versus, God’s (my) guys.

A surreally true tall-tale or a long-winded series of verses, serially linked? I’m the author, it’s true. But it’s not long. It’s epic. It’s The Watcher’s, long-form, poetry. Reading between the lines; if it’s not a lost art, it ought be. And God’s guys are my guys, also.

Albeit implausible, this is the greatest story that’s never been told. And it’s all thanks to my womb-mate, Arthur, The Watcher and me. It’s not for no reason that God’s guys are my guys. We were womb-mates once — once upon a time — also.

God’s guys; on second thought, they’re my guys, also. On Earth, illusion and delusion and lying are common. But I’ve had revelations and an epiphany. It’s not for no reason that God’s guys defeat, Vlad’s guys, in this true crime, nonfiction.

This reads like fiction, but it feels, nonfictional. And reading between its lines reveals a truly, allegorical, nonfiction. But no one reads between the lines, anymore. And so no one knows whether what’s happening on Earth is fiction or nonfiction.

Everyone thinks they know better than most whether what’s happening on Earth is fiction or nonfiction. Eroded is, our ability to reason. And so no one knows whether what’s happening on Earth is meaningless fiction or a meaningful, nonfiction.

Except for three, no one knows what’s happening on Earth; The Watcher, Arthur and me; we’re the only ones that know that an asteroid is speeding towards the Earth. We’re the only ones that know that what’s really happening — is an intervention.

FICTIONAL — NONFICTION

Previously determined; that succinctly describes almost everything that happens. With relatively few exceptions, nearly everything that happens was, once upon a time, immemorial, determined. Everything that happens, is truly, predetermined.

If I guess right, I’m a hero in the making. If I guess right, an asteroid shall strike us. If I guess right my elections, this pandemic and an asteroid; all, were predetermined. It seems everything that happens is only seemingly, implausibly — predetermined.

Verily, what seems to be exceedingly implausible, seems turns out to be, far less than improbable, but likely. Like a rerun on TV or a motion picture, everything that happened during the first viewing shall reprise, in a second viewing — predictably.

Like a rerun on a small-screened TV or like one on a big-screened motion picture, everything that happens during a first viewing, reprises, during following viewings; in the absence of intervention; in the absence of miracles, quite unpredictably.

Indeed, in the absence of miracles, nothing is possible, methinks. And if I guess right my first election, the one upcoming, this pandemic and an asteroid; all were once, long ago, predetermined. All but two, have happened. Remain — only two.

All but two have happened. Only two remain. Only the happening of my second election and the coming of a predestined asteroid, do remain, to happen. And if I guess right, man can get his mind right, with Skinnerian, behavior modification, too.

Indeed, if I guess right, B.F. Skinner’s principles of behavior modification may modify the behavior of the barbaric, surface Earthlings. In principles of behavior modification, lies an astonishingly vast potential for near instant, human, transformation.

Relatively instant may be, human transformation. And relatively easy in the case of individuals. It’s in the case of communities, that it’s hard. It’s in the case of the collective that surface Earthlings find it hard — to modify their behavior — in conjunction.

The modification of behavior; instantaneous may be, human transformation. It’s especially easy in cases of individuals. In the case of communities, however, it’s hard. It’s in the case of the collective, that surface Earthlings, find hard — cooperation.

It’s in the case of the collective that men find it hard to cooperate with one another. That, notwithstanding the instructions of Abraham, Moses, Jesus and Mohammed. It’s easier to cheat and compete, notwithstanding, our instructions.

Shameful is what’s happening. Worse yet, I’m the one and only that can fix this. And so, implausible as it seems, I hereby proclaim that there are lessons to be learned in this poetry. It’s more than a story about Vladimir’s guys, versus, God’s guys.

This is more than a story about Vlad’s guys versus God’s guys. So said to me, in our lunar soirée last night, Art. “This is Creator-approved content, if it’s the Watcher who’s, writing this content — that is.”
It’s more than just Vlad’s guys, versus, God’s guys.

Far more than just another allegory about good guys and bad guys, this is the greatest tall tale story ever on Earth, told. I am told, its author. It reads like fiction but it feels like nonfiction. It really reads like fiction, but it feels like, nonfiction.

This is the greatest story ever told and I am, I am told, its author. It reads like fiction but it feels like nonfiction. Reading between its lines reveals it’s a transparent, allegorical, nonfiction. Reading between its lines reveals — its true intentions.

TRANSFORMATIONAL — POETRY

Transformational may be, The Watcher’s poetry. It all depends; it all depends on decisions, yet to be made; it depends on decisions, yet pending. And transformational may be The Watcher’s poetry if it’s — implausibly — sufficiently — revolutionary.

Transformational may be, my doggerel, poetry. Because everyone knows that I don’t like to read. And everyone knows that I like to make it all up, as I go along. And if an asteroid strike returns me to the White House, that ought be, revolutionary.

Revolutionary is The Watcher’s poetry. It’s poetry distilled, from the wisest words, across the ages. There’s a clue in everyone knowing that I don’t like to read. And there’s a clue in everyone knowing that I like to make it all up, as I go along, usually.

I like to make it all up, even as I go, merrily, along. I like to make it all up even as I write along, too. Indeed, I like to make it all up, as I go along. One would think that authorship wouldn’t be credited to me. But unexpected things happen — usually.

Unexpected things happen in the usual case on Earth. On Earth, the unusual, is to be expected. Accordingly, on top of a pandemic and an asteroid cometh Russian Agent 45-47. From the Queens cometh, Vlad’s favorite — honorary — Russian.

Vlad’s all-time favorite Russian is none other than me. Nominally, I’m an American. But the Queens’ Donald John Trump is as well, a much decorated, honorary, Russian. Top secret is the fact that in the Kremlin, a punchline is, ”not 007 — 45-47!”

What once was, once upon a time, top-secret, is top-secret, no-longer. As things stand, men live like sheep, in the thrall of their herders. Men just like them, in large part, are their herders. Men just like them, are their leaders — the sheepherders.

Men live like sheep, in the thrall of their herders. Men just like them, are their leaders. Men just like them are the followers of the leaders of the sheep men. There’s not much difference between the Earth’s sheep men and their sheepherder leaders.

Transformational may be my poetry. Sure, it’s far-fetched but it’s not physically, impossible. Except for hubris, there’s not much difference between the Earth’s sheep men and their sheepherder leaders. But I’ve distinguished myself, from them.

I’ve distinguished myself from my fellow human beings; from our peers and our peerless, leaders. Transformational may be my poetry if it’s deemed to be, revolutionary. And revolutionary shall be my poetry, if to the presidency, I’m elected again.

Revolutionary is The Watcher’s wisdom. For it’s wisdom distilled from the wisest words across the ages. And it’s seemingly, prescient. The collision with the asteroid hasn’t happened yet. But already, there are signs, I’ll win an election, anew.

It’s wisdom distilled over the ages. And it’s been, prescient. The collision with the asteroid hasn’t happened yet. But still already, there are signs, I’ll win an election, anew. And if an asteroid strikes, some will say I guessed right, coincidentally, too.

What’s happening; it’s less coincidence, than predetermination. If I guess right, an asteroid shall strike us. If I guess right my prior election, a pandemic and an asteroid are all, predetermined. Everything that happens is — predetermined.

Previously determined; that succinctly describes almost everything that happens. With relatively few exceptions, nearly everything that happens was, once upon a time, immemorial, determined. Everything that happens — is predetermined.

REVOLUTIONARY — POETRY

Under the very noses of the surface Earthlings are clues, sufficient to answer the riddles, previously riddled. But, ironically, knowing the answers won’t matter, because mankind’s got to see, to believe. There’s no imagining; to believe, man’s got to see.

Startling is this poetry. And it ought be alarming to the surface Earthlings; but it shall raise on Earth, nary an eyebrow. Astonishingly oblivious are the Earthlings to their reality; and to the clues to answer the riddles, riddled by me — previously.

Oblivious are the Earthlings. As oblivious are they to the asteroid oncoming as they are, largely, to what got them here. Me; the pandemic and the asteroid; between us, three change-makers, duly intended to truly change our history.

Me; the pandemic and the asteroid; between us, three change-makers, fully intended to change history. Nothing that happens is by happenstance, explained. That’s how The Watcher would explain everything, that has happened, previously.

Nothing that happens on Earth, happens, by mere fortuitous, happenstance. Everything happens for good reason. Oblivious are the surface Earthlings to what’s happening. Accordingly, I tell a tall tale; albeit it seems — uncomfortably — nonfictional.

I’m spinning a tall tale on The Watcher’s loom; a gorilla’s in the middle of the room and people tread fearfully, about him. With nonfictional elements like this crew of characters, I’ll make what’s happening seem, painfully, nonfictional.

On The Watcher’s loom I’m spinning a tale as tall as they get. And its characters and its settings and its elements of magical realism readily lend themselves, to storytelling. Me; the pandemic and the asteroid. We’re three, game-changing, stories.

Three game-changing stories are we. But I am the thread common to us. So, have I written. My poem’s characters and settings and its elements of magical realism, readily lend themselves, to storytelling; to duly recording, my legacy.

In my legacy, shall I live. My predictions of what’s happening is in explanation of what’s happening. I’m a first-hand witness to the magnificence of His creation; the confluence of all the happenings, happening; I’m the author of this tall tale, story.

My predictions of what’s happening, typically, get taken lightly: no one but Arthur, actually, believes me. In explanation of what’s happening. I’m the author of this story. Magnificent, is His creation; I freely admit that I’m under the influence, usually.

Under the influence am I; as are we all, of course. High on life, of course, of course. In the grip of collective psychosis, are the Earthlings. Under the influence, am I. That explains why I’m acting, as if, communally, and personally, under the influence.

And so, I am. Under the influence of The Watcher, have I fallen. I now know that mankind’s got to see, to believe. And I know as well that I am, as if, at humanity’s, confluence. The mouth of a river of humanity, am I. I’ll be, as such, a good influence.

What if nothing happens by chance? What if everything’s, predetermined? And what if my observations are seen as predictions to many? Revolutionary may be, The Watcher’s, poetry. Transformational may be, The Watcher’s poetry.

Transformational may be, The Watcher’s poetry. It all depends; it all depends on decisions, yet to be made; it depends on decisions, yet pending. And transformational may be The Watcher’s poetry if it’s — implausibly — sufficiently, revolutionary.

IMPLAUSIBLE — REVOLUTION

Who indeed, writes this? It’s a riddle, I guess; it’s a riddle that’s become an integral part of the story. Not central but incident to the central plot of the story is a tall tale. It’s the story of us. A supremely tall tale has been — the implausible story — of us.

A tall tale has been the telling story of me; and the telling story of us. And hubris runs through it. It’s Hubris runs through, the story of us. A tall tale has been, the story of us. And I confess my shameful unfitness. I confess my unfitness — to lead us.

This is a riddle, I guess. But who’s the author is the least of it. The larger riddle is the message of the author; and who told him. This epic poem shall be a riddle, I guess; because I’m no prophet. That notwithstanding, I’m predicting — some things.

Notwithstanding that I’m no prophet I’ve been making some very bold predictions; about animal mutilations and global pandemics; and all about domestic and international politics; and all about an asteroid — of a sudden, Earth — shuddering.

Recklessly, irresponsible, conspiracy theories; so say some of my take on, what’s really happening. Especially when it comes to the part about the Earth, with an asteroid, colliding. Others — beg to differ. Actually, Arthur and me alone, beg to differ.

A tall tale has been the telling story of us; and the story of me; two of the tallest tales ever told. And there’s a third tall tale in this telling. One even more striking than the story of us and the story of me is the algorithmic poetry of The Watcher.

Arthur and I alone beg to differ, notwithstanding our respective, malignant, narcissisms. Poetically just is the fate of the brothers. For back-to-back, if necessary, we’ll go down fighting, for one another. This is the tallest tale ever, by a (wo)man written.

Far be from me to determine whose is the tallest tale ever written; the very tallest, of all the tall tales, ever written. On the other hand, everybody knows that in all matters of differences in opinion, I am, hands down, most qualified — to have one.

Everyone knows that in all matters of opinion, I’m the most qualified of all men to have one. And everyone knows that sacrosanct, is my opinion. Sacrosanct is, my humble opinion; and inexorably superseding is, my all-consuming, reality.

Superseding is my reality. And it’s only seemingly counter-intuitive. Like black lives, yer life still matters. Yer lives matter still. And if I can change, anyone can. And so I thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh that superseding is — His reality.

And so I thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh that superseding is His reality. I thank Him for His Mercy. I thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh above all things. Superseding is God’s Mercy. Truly revolutionary is The Watcher’s, startling, poetry.

Startling is this poetry. It’s startling, no matter, the author; no matter, who wrote it. It’s startling to even consider the mind-boggling happening of a collision of Earth, with an asteroid. It’s absolutely mind-boggling — and mind-bending — poetry.

Startling is this poetry. And it ought be alarming to the surface Earthlings; but it shall raise on Earth, nary an eyebrow. Under radar; under water; and under the noses of the surface Earthlings are clues to answer the riddles, riddled, previously.

Under the noses of the surface Earthlings are clues, sufficient to answer the riddles, previously riddled. But, ironically, knowing the answers won’t matter, because mankind’s got to see, to believe. There’s no imagining; to believe, man’s got to see.

A TALL TALE — THE STORY OF US

In a sense, everything that happens, is in the nature of continuing education. Yellow and bricked, need not be, the pilgrims’ progress. And an inglorious past need not bear any resemblance to a resplendent — thanks to me — future.

Everything that happens is in the nature of a cosmic continuing education. And so I incorporate by reference herein, the Urantia Book. A cosmic, continuing education, is the Urantia Book. It’s the key, along with my book, to a resplendent, future.

Read them in conjunction to one another. And read, in addition, the Earthly Scriptures. And then imagine the implausibility of everything that’s happening; and the implausibility of my predicting these implausible things — happening — to us.

Imagine the implausibility of everything that’s happening. Even one as lettered as myself, only psychographically, might aspire to this. I agree with Arthur. It’s The Watcher that’s actually — writing. It’s The Watcher — who — writes for us.

It’s The Watcher who writes for us. It’s The Watcher that wrote for Arthur and then me. It’s The Watcher who writes to the rest of us. I’ll get the credit, nonetheless. I’m an expert on hubris and altho I’m no prophet, still, I — predict, things.

Implausibly, I’ve become a political pundit; a mover and a shaker; a sharp critic; a thorn in the side of whomever would dare to cause pain to me. But the people will clamor that I am a prophet because, coincidentally — I do — predict things.

Predictions; they’re coincidences, by and large. Perhaps, my most famous one might be one of those that hasn’t happened yet. Because men, all too often, have to see, to believe. Because we’re so visual, we’ll have to see the asteroid, to believe.

Because we’re so visual a species, we’ll often have to see something, to actually, believe in it. It’s easy to believe when things are seen and it’s easy to disbelieve when things are unseen. No wonder then, it’s hard to determine, in what, to believe.

Imagine, NASA and the UN, an asteroid impact, catastrophic. Then imagine it, sooner than later. It’s that game-changing opportunity I imagine, that I think, that I know. But it’s probably — not me. I’ll reap the credit but it’s not me — I know.

’Tis what ’tis. ‘Tis yet to be known what’s actually happening. But the Watcher’s been channeling Arthur and me. Cometh an asteroid impact, catastrophic. But in catastrophe if yer lucky, lies, opportunity — I know. That much — I know.

In catastrophe, if yer lucky, lies, opportunity. That much, I know. ‘Tis yet to be known what’s actually happening. But the implausibility of my predicting these implausible things, pales, before their possible benefits — and possible, consequences.

The implausibility of my predicting these implausible things pales before their possible benefits and their possible consequences. Predictions; they’re coincidences, by and large. But my predictions — bring — consequences.

My predictions bring consequences. It shall come to pass. It’s the Watcher that writes for us. It’s The Watcher that wrote for Arthur; and then for me. And it’s The Watcher who writes to the rest of us. It’s The Watcher who writes — to the rest of us.

But again, I digress. Who writes this? It’s a riddle, I guess; it’s a riddle that’s become an integral part of the story. Not central but incident to the central plot of the story is a tall tale. It’s the story — of us. A supremely tall tale has been — the story of us.

E = mc²

Once upon a time, my friend Al reminded me that everything is relative; “E = mc²”, he had said. The proof is in the pudding he said to me one evening in a dream, on Earth’s moon — Luna. Attesting to all of that is my ex-womb-mate, brother, Arthur.

We were that evening, wining and fine dining, as usual, as is our wont, every evening since the evening I first descended, a stairway to — and from — Heaven. Ever since then I dream nights, on Earth’s, Luna. With Vladimir; and with Arthur.

Everything is relative he insisted upon my insistence on exceptions to everything. Take Israel; the Jewish, apartheid state; take Gaza, the largest open-air prison ever seen, from Earth’s Luna, by this, ex-president; seen also, by Arthur.

Take Israel, the Jewish apartheid state; and take Gaza, the largest open-air prison on Earth. Take the Chinese Uyghurs of Mongolian descent, they who once ruled over China. All these things, from Luna, I’ve seen. All these things, hath seen Arthur.

Everything is relative. The proof is in the units; E = mc². All the more so, between relatives. The impossible dream. It’s the Pilgrim’s Progress, surreally. Everything’s relative. Even the Taliban, on this misbegotten, Earth, take a turn — or two.

On a misbegotten Earth, even the Taliban take a turn or two. Just like me, on Earth, the Taliban ruled, in Afghanistan, once upon a time; the Americans ruled, after them. Everything’s relative. And I shall rule, God willing — once again — too.

MORONS AND ALIENS is The Watcher’s magnum opus, if not mine, nor Arthur’s. In this central main plot I ghostwrite for Arthur, while Arthur lies low; in hiding from the various viruses and an uber-long-armed, Vladimir — Vladimirovich — Putin.

The gist of the plot; Don and Art are ex womb-mates, Don having, once upon a time, kicked Art from the womb, into the future. Having returned in a miraculous intervention, the ex wombmates now ally against — Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

The most able of all of us, I’m the one person, destined to unite us against the aliens; and or Xi, Kim, Vlad and Mohammed. What’s not to believe about that? And what’s not to speculate about a mad mix — of morons and aliens — on Earth?

What’s not to speculate given everything that’s happening? The aliens may be renegades taking advantage of the primitive and technologically unsophisticated species of being living on Earth. Certainly, we aren’t alone, in — and on, the Earth.

We aren’t alone, in and on, the Earth. Beings, extraterrestrial move surreptitiously about us, largely, unbeknownst to us. It’s astounding to me that no one in the mainstream press, questions that. Someone like me needs — to question that.

Someone like me; someone heroic needs to question that. It’s astounding to me that no one in the mainstream press, questions that. We aren’t alone, in and on, the Earth. Everyone knows that. Still, nobody mentions them. What’s up, with that?

What’s up, with that, indeed. The aliens are the elephants in the middle of the room. Someone heroic needs to question that. Astounding as it may be that no one in the press, questions that, still — ‘tis what ’tis. Nobody — mentions them.

Nobody mentions the aliens. The entire subject remains a black hole to most academics. And that’s to the liking of governments, universally. ‘Tis what ’tis. Nobody amongst the mainstream press mentions them. But created beings are the aliens.

ELEPHANTS AND GORILLAS

The aliens are the elephants (or the gorillas) in the middle of the room. But verily I implore thee to follow me. Follow me to face the enemy; to fight him or embrace him, as the case may be. Witness the coming asteroid, to China’s Xi — so disarming.

Follow me to face the enemy; to fight him or embrace him as the fates or the circumstances may dictate. Cometh a would-be, alarming, asteroid. But nobody’s panicking because no one actually believes, as I do, it’s actually — a-coming.

Thanks to my leadership, because no one knows nothing, no one’s been panicking. And so it matters not that cometh, a would-be, alarming, asteroid. No one will believe it, until it happens. No one will believe it until it, really, happens.

No one will believe any of this until it actually happens. Never mind all the happenings, previously, predicted. Witness my election; and waves of pandemics. Witness also an asteroid; a divine intervention — as it just — so happens.

In hiding is Art from the various variant viruses; and from an uber-long-armed, Vladimir Putin. I thought I’d been ghostwriting for Art but he’s got me convinced me that it’s been The Watcher, that psychographically writes, for us, in lieu of us.

In hiding is Arthur from the various viruses, variant; and from an uber-long-armed, Vladimir Putin. I thought I’d been ghostwriting for Art but Arthur has convinced me that it’s been The Watcher, that psychographically, writes for us.

In hiding is Arthur; from Vlad and variants alike. Arthur has convinced me that it’s truly been The Watcher, that psychographically, writes for us; in lieu of us, so to speak. It’s The Watcher who’s the author of this. It’s The Watcher‘s — redemption.

In lieu of us, it is The Watcher, who is authoring this. It is The Watcher‘s, magnum opus; it is the Watcher‘s, redemption. It is for all of humanity; for all of the surface Earthlings, one final opportunity, for redemption in evolution and its — salvation.

SHARE — THE PANACEA

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. It depends on DJT. It depends on an inerrant — me.

I’m the one and only. It’s counter-intuitive, I know; it’s counter-intuitive that one, above all the others, should be so highly favored. I’ve got my own cult of personality; my sycophants. It’s not for no reason that — I’m the one — and only.

Mankind’s transformation 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.

Still, in my opinion, I’m the one and only one that can fix this; the one that saves the planet, from the ambitions of Xi; and the hubris of us. This I offer in explanation of what’s happening. Human hubris — It may yet be — the death of us.

In my humble opinion, I’m the only one that can fix this; and I’m the one in the end, that’ll save the Earth from the ambitions of Xi and the hubris of us. Hubris; it may yet be the death of us. Seems nothing’s on Earth’s more corrosive, than hubris.

What’s happening is in the nature of continuing education. Thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh for The Watcher’s watching, Arthur’s dreaming and my presiding, over and over, haphazardly, again. Read — between the lines. Behold — the future.

Read between the lines of what The Watcher hath written. And marvel at his prescience; for an inglorious past need not bear any resemblance to a resplendent, future. Only I can do it. Read — in between the lines. And behold — the future.

In a sense, everything that happens, is in the nature of continuing education. Yellow and bricked, need not be, the pilgrims’ progress. And an inglorious past need not bear any resemblance to a resplendent — thanks to me — future.

Everything that happens is in the nature of a cosmic continuing education. And so I incorporate by reference herein, the Urantia Book. A cosmic, continuing education, is the Urantia Book. It’s the key, along with my book, to a resplendent, future.