We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
"People want to think there is some huge conspiracy run by evil geniuses. The reality is actually much more horrifying. The people running the show aren't evil geniuses. They are just as stupid as the rest of us."
Question, what question? Sorry, but I'm too busy juggling blue balls while standing on the back of an elephant to pay much attention to anything else. Besides, I'm crazy. Some good Shepard Dago told me so... they only speak truth, you know.
Who's sitting on a damned elephant pouring tabasco on their blue balls while Meta whips that turtle--whip it good. We're summoning the naked hussy's while Jappy tries on his blue suede shoes and KRW waxes existentially blue while Luther defends the arduous stacking of turtles for meaning making in the valley of the shadow of death. All this while dear leader is humming whilst strumming his lips with a finger and signing away the monies of future generations with his free hand and congress scratches its ass as it ponders how one opens a new box of crayons.
I would step foot out of this office to eat an egg in that kitchen next door but the idea of some sense of reality penetrating the thick barrier of fantasy I've built around my fragile interior is frightening me. Besides, I'd be walking on turtles to get to the fridge and who can walk with the boys swollen and blue anyway. At least I've got whiskey.
Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saving, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken"
I read the news today oh, boy
Four thousand holes in blackburn, lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the albert hall
I'd love to turn you on