Students skipping school, worldwide, to demand responsible governmental action towards addressing, climate, change. On the ides of March,

ironically, of all days. A gateway issue; to address connected issues like human migration and sex trafficking, march!

Russia’s Vlad. China’s Xi. North Korea’s Kim and The Don. The gang, of four. An evil, cabal. Four men plot for their nations, how to divide, among victors,

the spoils. Everything, in the end, will be alright. So long as the war booty goes to, the victors.

The deal’s been: The Americas to Don. From the Arctic to Antarctica. The Koreas to Kim. China and Africa to Xi. And for Vladimir, the uber crafty,

Russian, Russia, India and Europe. Urantia’s been divvied up, in secret, compacts. Remember … Helsinki?

Remember indeed, Helsinki. Recall, Don’s ass-kissing representation of US, there. And Vietnam. Where shockingly, the Don-Juan-lover, Donald, in Hanoi,

less than graciously, from their table, stood up. Mucking up, for the American team, the works, in Hanoi.

It’s bad Karma not to follow, the Golden Rule. Conversely it’s wise to treat others, as one likes, to be treated. Today, MAYDAY 1350, may surreally

mark, Mueller’s end game, for Don’s presidency. In Art’s MAYDAYS, the Watcher is Bob Mueller, allegorically.

Everything past; everything present; everything in futures, too (having happened (then), too), literally, string connected to encompassing, presents.

Pasts and futures, in circuit, connected. Arthur presents to thee, Twitter’s algorithm, as present.

Even as his character is assassinated on Friday, Caesar-wannabe-Don, pivots, surreally. Thoughts of his son Brandon coping with elements

changed Don into a climate change believer, instantly. Neuroscience. More than a match, for a flip-flopping, President.

Neuroscience. The mere thought of his son Brandon battling elements changed Don into a climate change believer, instantly. Protecting children.

An instinct more fundamental even than self, preservation. Slow, climate change. Let US do it, for the children.

“For our children. For the children. Most suffer and sacrifice, willingly, for the children. The Drumpf clan, is particularly noble,

ironically, that way. Art’s MAYDAYS: chock full of irony. To get to empathy from sympathy. For the futures of our children.

For the futures of our children, let US, pray. And March! Coming soon: AI programming, turns passion into compassion and sympathy, to empathy.

For the futures of our legatee, innocents. To do things, democratically. And not necessarily, revolutionarily.

Children: Pray! And march! For the futures of children, pray. Make passion’s compassion, sympathy’s empathy. Let’s pray! Resolutely, march!

A quarter of US (27%), are ye. Your lives. The hottest ever! For collective futures, do pray. But be sure, to march!

This is Art’s book of tweets entitled X MAYDAYS (where X equals the total number of days beginning when Don, descended from, a heavenly, dwelling). Indeed, a most fateful, day.

Soirees. And dreams. And couplet, tweets, followed.  His. Mine. And those of seemingly, countless others.  Composing from them, a cautionary tale … incredible … only seemingly.

Neuroscience, passion, compassion and His Grand timing, hold for man, verily, hope. Hope, remains. How truly to get, from mistrust to trust? Arty,

knows how. Behavior modification. Not on individuals, but rather on the planet. The entire, global community.

Washington‘s abuzz. Everywhere in Washington, everyone’s asking, When’s the witch hunter, filing? And it may well be, that the filing gets filed, on Friday,

the ides of March. Coinciding, in a twist of fate, with Greta’s climate change march, on Friday.

Don’s expecting some news on Friday. Fake news, he may allege. He’ll call Kim. Kim will call him. Each, to remind the other, of Alfred. Alfred, Nobel.

And to remind one another, that they’ll need to work, with all Godspeed to win, Peace Prizes, Nobel.

“A failure to plan is a plan to fail.” Words to live by. North Korean real estate prices plummet after the Hanoi, summit, collapse, between a boy-

president, and an, old-man, president. Between them, who trusts? Neither … the man … nor the boy.

Who trusts the other? Neither. Neither man nor boy trust the earlier and later reproductions of these manly versions of the species. So-called, wise men.

But wise men only seasonally, show. Upon Yuletide holidays when 3 regular men … play 3 … wise men.

But on Urantia three wise men show up, only seasonally. Upon the Yuletide holidays. When three regular men, play three wise men. Who on Urantia trusts,

another? Neither. Neither man, nor boy, trust. These poor copies of men … are worthy not … of trust.

How to get from mistrust to trust? How on Earth (Urantia) to get there, in view of the fact that men have never trusted in one another? Witness, Cain

and Abel. But neuroscience, passion, compassion and timing, promise, second bites from, the apple, remain.

Witness Cain & Abel. But neuroscience, passion, compassion and timing, hold for man hope, second bites, remain. How to get from mistrust …

to trust? How on Earth (Urantia) to get two notorious liars, to trust in one another, if men, in men, do not trust.

Witness Cain and Abel. And Kim and Don. But neuroscience, passion, compassion and timing, hold for man, verily, hope. Hope, remains. How truly to get, from mistrust to trust? Art knows Skinner’s, modifications. Not on single units carbon, but on, the planet. An entire, community.

MAYDAYS: An epic story, poetically rendered. Less geological than archaeological. Silver bullet algorithms, in verse. Panaceas for Pangaea, in plain sight, hidden.

Of men in high places, behaving, badly. To save Urantia (Earth), and ‘Earthling,’ Urantians.

“An allegory is MAYDAYS,” Don, last night, in soirée, said. “An epic story, poetically rendered. By me. Silver bullet algorithms, in verse,” Don says.

Panaceas for Pangaea, in plain sight, hidden.” And so he practiced before a mirror what to his base, say.

“An allegory is MAYDAYS,” preens President Don, before a mirror. Mirroring, in that way what to say, to his base. “ Greatly rendered, is verse

telling epic stories. By me. My brothers, of great help, were. Silver bullet algorithms in verse, our verses.”

“An allegory is MAYDAYS. Algorithmic, silver-jacketed, bullets, in verse, my verses,” preens President Don, before a mirror. Mirroring, that way

what to say, to his base. “Great verse telling, an epic story. By me. My brothers helped some, by the way.

“An allegory is MAYDAYS. Algorithmic, silver-jacketed, bullets, in verse. My verses,” preens President Don before a mirror. Mirroring, that way, what to say,

to his base. “Great verse telling, an epic, story. By me. My brothers helped a little, by the way.

“An allegory is MAYDAYS,” practices Don before a mirror, in his presidential residence. Mirroring, what to say, to his base. “An epic story, poetically,

rendered. By me. Silver bullet algorithms, in verse,” Don emotes, self-servingly. Welcome to Plan ZZZ.”

“An allegory of a Faustian bargain is MAYDAYS. With the slow witted and recklessly impulsive Don as Faust. Most characters, play, in the verses,

themselves. Some, others. Like Bob Mueller. He is the Watcher, Penemue. Pen. He’s inspiring, bullets, in verse.

MAYDAY 1: TUESDAY, June 16, 2015. At the link: The Don’s presidential, announcement, speech. Donald John Trump (née Drumpf, aka, The Don).

In lieu of Master of the Universe, Don settles for president, of US.
To defend against all enemies, the Constitution.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MAYDAY 1343: FRIDAY, MARCH 8, 2019: Knowing Bob, given all that’s publicly known and given also the grave nature of the emergencies

become, Don’s presidency, Arthur the author can’t imagine Bob’s report, under the circumstances, not calling, for, remedies.

Given all that’s already known (and knowing Bob), and given also the nature of the emergency that has become The Don’s presidency, Arthur

the author can’t imagine any report of Bob’s, under the circumstances, not calling for bold action. So sayeth, Arthur.

Given the three givens previously tweeted, a near given is it unto laymen even that President Donald is not long for this presidency. Follow Art. Take

Tweet, in 280 characters, or less, your take, on Art’s take. Given all the givens, given, it’s a near given that Don is not long for the presidency. Take

the #chachomanopapachallenges. Tweet, in exactly 280 characters (less is OK), your take, on Art’s take.

Tweet a rhyme in 280 characters. In 40 words or so, pen, your take, on Art’s take. Friendly as solitaire. Challenging too. Like Sodoku. Or crosswords.

Contests. To be written into, Arthur Everman’s, MAYDAYS. Better than, Sodoku. Better than … crosswords.

Tweet a rhyme to Art. In 280 characters. Forty or so, words. To pen your take, on Art’s take. To be written into Arthur’s

MAYDAYS. In Arthur’s discretion to be edited into Arthur’s MAYDAYS, expose. To market it. A contest. Of algorithms. On Twitter.

Welcome to my world, Earthlings. It is your world, too. Arthur, admittedly, is from the future. Here on a mission to save y’all, from yourselves, generally,

and from a cabal of ruthless dictators that rule over ye along with a budding dictator … wannabe.

Will Kim and Don return to confrontation? Or, may cooler heads, prevail. MAYDAYS answers, questions. Questions, pedagogical. Questions,

asked and questions, answered. Art invites, evolutionary, questions. And the elusive answers, to all such … questions.

MAYDAYS answers, questions. Questions, pedagogical. Questions, asked and questions, answered. Art invites, evolutionary questions.

And their elusive answers. Answers like: Consolidation of the nations and a Golden Rule governing relations … inter-human.

Art invites, evolutionary questions. And their elusive answers. Answers like: Consolidation of the nations and a Golden Rule governing relations,

between humans. MAYDAYS answers questions. Questions, pedagogical. Questions asked and questions, answered. Towards, heavenly, wisdom.

Before neither God nor man bows, Vlad. Bent on recapturing the former stature of the former, Soviet Union, everyone knows: Neither

murder nor lying is out of bounds, for him. ‘Tis far better than the bearing of responsibility, for the errors … of others.

Everyone knows: Neither murder nor lying is out of bounds for President Putin. Bent on recapturing the former stature of the former, Soviet Union,

to catch up with US, Vlad can’t slow down. And before neither God nor man bows, President Vladimir … Putin.

“Tweet using exactly 280 characters exactly what ye wish to express. And not one character, less.” So said Penemue to Art. Neither murder nor lying,

is out of bounds, for President Putin. Before no God bows down, President, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.