Where have ye been, man? Climate change, denier. Naked, nativist. All of a sudden to pivot, on a dime. Now to take on, heart-wrenching, human

migration, changing climates and constant, violence? Against man. And Earth. Where on Earth, have ye been … man?

On emergent talks, post Singapore, and Hanoi. Talks emergent, in the wake of a wait and we’ll see in Singapore and an immediately apparent failure, in

Hanoi. But the Nobels are in December. And each of them wants the other, to win. Or, for both … to win.

Mayday 1340: Tuesday March 5, 2019. ‘Twas just a day ago. Yesterday. When we ought have marched forth. Across, a country. And marched also forth,

across tiny, Earth. Wasted, opportunity. Wasted, yesterday. We ought have … marched forth … on the fourth.

Ecstatic, was puppeteer Vladimir when Don won against a long-time thorn in his side. Vladimir placed a low-balling bet hoping for a political lottery winner.

Vladimir knew 2 things: Failure to plan are plans to fail. And The Don … specializes in failure.

RICO. He whom once upon a time, so heavy-handedly, persuaded, the Mafia. Poll: 64 percent believe the President committed crimes before. But Don learned not, from anyone, wisdom. Wisdom like, “if ye shy away from doing the time Don, do not the crime, Don.”

Thank ye, cousin RICO. The governmental enforcer that, once upon a time, rolled the Mafia. Poll: 64 percent of Americans believe The Don committed crimes

before. But Don learned not, from anyone, wisdom. Wisdom like, if ye shy from doing time, do not the crime.

As an unindicted co-conspirator, Don figures his best odds on skipping prison, lie in being re-elected, the American, president. Cousin RICO,

tho, a governmental enforcer, has the goods on him, and his family. For criminal, enterprises. Thank you … RICO!

RICO. He whom once upon a time, so heavy-handedly, persuaded, the Mafia. Poll: 64 percent believe the President committed crimes before. But Don

learned not, from anyone, wisdom. Wisdom like, “if ye shy away from doing the time Don, do not the crime, Don.”

Today, Monday, March 4, 2019. A date that ever waxes, poetic. It is both date and command. And so Art, commandingly, commands thee: “Save,

the date. For an inaugural GCD (Global Citizenship Day), some day soon, maybe. If a Kim-Don Plan, Urantia, saves.

#SaveTomorrowToday. The hashtag part of Art’s campaign to blackmail the cabal of his brothers that rule US. It must go, today, emergently, viral.

Accordingly, Arthur, commands thee: Tweet, children, to the nations. #SaveTomorrowToday.
Let’s go … viral.

Directed at adult Urantian specimens Art’s campaign to blackmail a cabal of brothers that rule US, is spinning its wheels, tho, eventually,

viral, it must go. “Tweet, @GretaThunberg and @DavidHogg111, to all, the true natures of emergencies.”

@GretaThunberg and @DavidHogg111: Tweet to all, the true nature of the emergencies. Art’s campaign to blackmail a global cabal of brothers,

ruling US is spinning its wheels, tho, eventually, it must go, viral. Help Art, extort, his brothers.
cc:@AOC

Greta, David and Alexandria (@AOC): Tweet the true nature of these emergencies. Desperate men do desperate things. Witness, Vlad, Don,

Kim and Xi. Art’s campaign, must go viral. Help Art blackmail, devilishly, evil, brothers. Support Plan Kim-Don. Not Don.

Not too surprisingly, Commie Democrats want to steal Don’s thunder. It’s just not fair. Her stealing his brand new, green, deal.

On a green new deal. Upon Don’s resignation, he’s transforming from apprentice president to apprentice super hero. A big deal.

Addressing climate change, human migrations and their exacerbating, conflicts is, bar none, job one, for Homo sapiens. Job one for Homo

sapiens is rising above divisive differences, insidiously petty, in effect, so destructively, dehumanizing, for we, Homos.

Poetry penned by children may well spark in man, evolution, anti, devolutionary. Between a ROK and hard places, Kim and Don, find,

themselves. No way out from under witch-hunt like, investigations. No way to lie their way out of these binds.

Between a ROK and hard places is President Kim. For his country, surreally, a Shangri-La like nation, is really no Kingdom but rather just one,

great big, country-sized, prison. But he’s got the best cells, in North Korea. Better than, The Hague’s, prison.

Similarly and paradoxically,
diametrically, differently, The Don (sans Melania) is hunkered down in an off-white, White House. The White House,

seemingly, momentarily floating, amidst, rock-filled seas. A hard place upon which to dash … one’s house.

Presidents need to read, really. Three, should-have-been, recommended readings (so much for that) for President Don: Presidencies, for Dummies.

Summits, for Dummies. And Transcendentalism, for Dummies. Too late, for the first two. The third, too, actually.

Twitter’s algorithm is perfect for the penning, of verse, couplet. It seems that 280 characters make for a grand universe, of possibilities.

Poetry, very possibly, if embraced by the children, may spark in Homo sapiens, an evolution, anti, devolutionary.

@MoveOn. Pressure them. Tweet to them. Organize. Demonstrate. Shine spotlights on issues. Abdicate from sovereign paradigms. Legislate Golden

Rules. Freedom of speech. Freedom of congregation. Freedom of religion. Foster not, devolution. Foster, evolution.

On behalf of man therefore, Art is demanding freedom of speech. Freedom of congregation. Freedom of religion. Freedom of the press.

Freedom of association. And freedom of movement. To conflict and climate changing, human migration, address. cc: @AOC

Just a misunderstanding. A lovers’, quarrel. For jealous men are The Kim and The Don. Given, to rages. And ‘tis true that Mr. Alfred Nobel’s

brothers, are given, to rages. But Arthur’s brothers, noble wannabes, need nobility from Alfred Nobel.

‘Tis true that Mr. Alfred Nobel’s brothers are given, to rages. And that Art’s brothers, noble wannabes, need nobility from Alfred Nobel to soften,

reputations, sullied. To fool, people. And retool, people. To become, self-centered, but, beloved, statesmen.

Our story thus far: To become for their people, beloved, statesmen, Kim and Don, validation, need aiming to get it, via Nobel

Prizes. To soften reputations, sullied and beloved statesmen, be and to make, incidentally tons of cash, a la, Nobel.

To be statesmen (and avoid prison) Kim and Don need to win a Peace Prize, Nobel. To become beloved, statesmen. To make, a la Alfred Nobel,

tons of money. Kim and Don, need validation. Nobels, confer that. Award to them, Peace Prizes, Nobel.

The top 3 reasons Kim and Don want to win coveted Peace Prizes, Nobel. First and foremost; to make, a la Al Nobel, cash. To become

too, for their peoples, beloved, statesmen. Third; to break free of Xi. Free too of Vladimir Putin, to become.

The long and the short of it then is that short tempers, notwithstanding, a third summit, beckons. For the reasons afore, tweeted, officially.

To make, in officially lots of money. To break free of Xi. And to break free of the specter, of Vladimir Putin, especially.

Fear Russian puppet master President Vladimir Putin. He’s got KGB-like, long-ass arms, agent Novichok and other agents, also. He also lies,

surreptitiously, on Facebook. Success is measured not by how oft one lies, but by the physical dimensions, of the lie.

@MoveOn. To move on pressure them. Tweet to them. Organize. Demonstrate. Shine spotlights on issues. Abdicate from sovereign paradigms. A Golden

Rule, legislate. Enshrine, speech, congregation and religion. The nations are disunited. Let US move, on them.

North Korea plays up Kim Jong un as a worthy recipient of a Nobel Peace Prize. And the possibility that the two may share, that high, honor.

Surprisingly though the two may have just eliminated themselves from a piece, of peace’s, iconic, honor.

An iconic Prize. Alfred Nobel’s, Peace Prize. Near all, covet it. Near everyone. And their brothers. Such, the allure of adding that, highest honor. Prizes

had they, in their pockets. But opening fat mouths may be costly, if it means, losing Prizes.

Spinning in their graves are past winners of the planet’s most iconic and coveted Prize. Alfred Nobel’s, Peace Prize. They had their invaluable Prizes,

in their pockets. But fat mouths may be costly. And the cost may well be, losing, invaluable … Prizes.

Russia’s shamster-in-chief: Vladimir Putin. Witness, not only this past presidential campaign in the United States of America, but a sham,

too, in Brexit, in Britain. A brawny bear is Putin’s Russia. Not above, assassination. Not above … shams.

Leave it to the children. Just not, the Beaver. For children, just like everybody else, are different from, everybody else. Most may follow where

the leaders, lead. So follow the leaders of tomorrow, today. Leaders like Greta. And David. They may get us, in 280 characters, there.

Just a misunderstanding. A lovers’, quarrel, if ye will. For jealous men are The Kim and The Don. Given, to rages. And ‘tis true that Mr. Alfred Nobel’s

brothers, are given, to rages. But Arthur’s brothers, noble wannabes, need nobility from Alfred Nobel.

Wisdom. It’s as if imbedded in poetry. And its power comes from its content. And from its cadence. Content. And cadence. The words, Penemue (Pen),

The Watcher, told man made for powerful words of beauty. Persuasion, not from a sword but rather, from a Pen.

MAYDAY 1334: WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2019: Says Art today: Just as in Helsinki, as usual, there appears to be more going on, under

the tables in Hanoi, than usual. As Art leaks, by tweeting this. In twists of irony, Art’s blackmailing … the blackmailers.

MAYDAY 1334: WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2019: Says Arthur today, what may play, tomorrow. Comes a 3rd summit, maybe, ending

the Korean, Conflict. But, as in Helsinki, as usual, there’s a lot going on under the table, never intended for, any, public, viewing.

Dualities. Matter. Anti-matter. Light. Darkness. Good. Evil. Truth. And on misguided, Urantia, ubiquitous, lies.
Prevarications, pandemic.

And ironic. On convening sessions at the U.N. No confidence, motions. But it’s not, happening. A truth … sardonic.

Masters of the universe (not), universally, ruling. For, evolutionary, are ye. Not crowning creations, but rather, developing, beings. Urantia’s perennial

lying, acts like a brake. Against, further evolving. To make of man, a footnote in annals, universal.

Calling on all critics of the sovereignty, paradigm. Fanatics, of brotherhood. But brotherhood, not, internecine. Not limited, to tribes of men,

Jewish, Christian and Muslim. But brotherhood, rather, everywhere, on the planet and between, all men.

Peace and prosperity. And brotherhood between all men. Everywhere, on the planet. Mark, Art’s words. Kim and Don are needy,

of Nobels. Like nobles, nobility, need. Nothing but nothing is impossible, for two men, in love, so deeply.

Peace and prosperity. And brotherhood between all men. Everywhere on the planet. Mark, Art’s words. Kim and Don need, Nobels. Like nobles, nobility,

need. Nothing is impossible for two men so deeply in love and needing to stay out of jail … indefinitely.

Kim and Don need Nobels. Like nobles, nobility, need. After loving The Don, Kim can never love another. The Don, in turn says that Kim is his first, truly,

true love. Nothing is impossible for two men deeply in love and needing to avoid jail, indefinitely.

To avoid jail, indefinitely. And to be true, to one another, The Kim and The Don, need their Nobels. They need them like nobles, their nobilities,

need. But nobility takes a back seat to expediency when prison’s, in issue. Like for the lovers, Kimmy … and Donny.

For passes from indefinite detention, The Kim and The Don, need, their Nobels. To avoid jail-time. And, oh yeah, be true … to one another. Noble

blessings bestowed, the Russian Vladimir and the Chinese Xi are rigging, the 2018, Peace Prize, Nobel.

Rigging is a strong word. Skewing, perhaps, being the better word to characterize the nature of the Russian and Chinese interventions, in Nobel,

affairs. Interventions impacting upon an Academy’s December presentation of 2018’s, noble, Peace Prize, Nobel.

Know ye then this, all ye gullible, Urantians. As usual, there’s a lot going on, under the table. Things said, never intended to become, of public. Art

pens today, what may play, tomorrow. Come a 3rd summit, ended may be, a Korean Conflict. So sayeth, Art.

In is in surreal twists of irony that The Almighty as if speaks to His wayward Urantian children. It is in these ironies, that wisdom is in plain sight, hidden.

He speaks to us, still. Between the lines of what written on walls. Of the human rights of men.

Read between the lines of what’s been, throughout history, written on walls. There’s where one may were one may metaphysically

commune, theoretically, if all are in the same place cybernetically with all one’s brothers. Eight billion of them … surreally.

Being so forearmed; with pens, keyboard keys and other hi-tech, word, weaponries, the word may very well become, mightier even than lies,

venerable. Albeit not, perhaps, steely swords. Count, on the children. And disarm not, before the venerable, lie.

Verily, disarm not, before the lie. Rather, arm yourselves, in self-defense. For even if truthful words became, by decree today, mightier than lies,

tomorrow, it would take, a generation, at a minimum to undo the effects, of countless generations, of lies.

Even if truthful words became by decree today, mightier than lies, tomorrow, it would take a generation, at a minimum, to undo the effects of lies,

countless, over the generations. Disarm not, before lies. Rather, arm yourselves against dehumanizing … lies.

Arm yourself against the dehumanizing lies that characterize, so disgracefully, life, on Urantia (Earth). Children, from

their parents, learn. Citizens, from governments. Decrying criminal presidents of nations is Art on behalf of the citizens, there from.

The criminal presidents of the nations are ruling, autocratically. And in the presidents, the citizens, have no, confidence. None. The presidents

soirée (dream) there because only on the surface of Luna, in this solar system is Truth spoken, in confidence.

Masters of the universe (not), universally, ruling.
For, evolutionary, are ye. Not crowning creations, but rather, developing, beings. Urantia’s perennial

lying, acts like a brake. Against, further evolving. To make of man, a footnote in annals, universal.

Shall the pen prove mightier than the sword, after all? Change may depend, on our children. And a formula Art follows to pen couplet verse,

algorithmic. 280 character ads, or stories. A new language, for communicating. On reversing, reversals … in verse.

Reversing reversals, in verse. Slowing a trend toward an increasingly, devolutionary, evolution. Shall Pen’s pens prove, mightier, than swords?

Change may depend on our kids. And a formula to follow to pen, couplet verse. Pens are mightier … than swords.

@GretaThunberg @davidhogg111:
May Pen’s pens prove mightier, than even swords? Change may depend on our children.

And a formula, for couplet verse. For pens in the hands of children may be mightier than swords. To reverse reversals, count, on the children.

@GretaThunberg @davidhogg111:
Change may depend on our children. And a formula for couplet verse. In the hands of visionary children far swords,

pale, next, to words. To reverse reversals, count, on the children. Pens are far, far, mightier … than swords.

Pens. And words. In the hands of visionary children, mightier than even, swords. To counter evolution’s devolution, count on our legatee,

children. Pens, mighty, may be! Change. Mighty may be the children. For armed, with words, children may be … mighty.

Armed with words, our legatee children, yet still, may be, mighty. On children, count! Forearmed with pens, digital and word weaponry, ironically

the word may yet be, mightier, than the sword. On children, count! Mighty the children armed with … poetry.

Mighty are the children who are so well armed. Forearmed with words, our children mighty, may yet, be. Forearmed with pens, digital and word,

weaponry, the word may very well be, mightier than the sword. On children count, literally. Allow them … a word.

Chronicling, an obsession. An addiction far more compelling than literary crosswords and the mathematical, Sodukus. On tweeting in exactly 280

characters, the story of The Don. Paralleling, the story, of (wo)man. And Plan Kim-Don. It is what is happening. Implausibly. Incredibly.

On tweeting in 280 characters the story of (wo)man. History. His story. Not to undo what’s been done with The Donald but to faithfully set stages

for what’s going to happen in a future, predictable, should (wo)man not reconsider, and … reset, the stage.

History. It’s His story. He intervenes only as necessary to suit His Holy, purposes. To set the stage for what, in the future, may be happening, maybe.

Over the ages, the greatest story ever told in 280 characters is the story that Art’s tweeting … maybe.

Over the ages, the greatest story ever told in 280 characters is the story that Art’s tweeting, maybe. History. His story.

He intervenes only as necessary to suit His Holy, purposes. To set the stage for what, in the future, may … be happening … maybe.

For a global transformation, use Twitter’s algorithmic, formula, for couplet verse. For 280, character, stories. Or ads. As the case, may be. In

MAYDAYS, Arthur, in two settings, is extorting a cabal of his ruling brothers, to do, for us, the right thing.

In MAYDAYS Art, in two settings, exhorts (extorts), a cabal of our ruling brothers to do for us, the right thing. Change depends on Twitter’s

algorithmic formula, for couplet verse. 280, character ads, or stories. A new way of waxing poetic … on Twitter.

Art’s mission: To tweet man’s story. And to retweet it, as necessary. To suit, Holy purposes. To set stages for what in the future, may well seem, magical.

The greatest 280 character story ever told may well be, the story of the brothers of The Don … gone viral.