___The Machinations of the____ __Brandywine Lane Collective.__

Already a 'not turned' quality has absorbed my attention, 

or at least what little of it may be left after my third divorce. 

The only patient who still used the vanity hallway, is a person 

of 'micro interest', inside of whose studied indifference is an 

insufferably jaded coping strategy, not countenanced by your 

appalling lack of any sort of being-sense. As, at a moment of my 

choosing, pointed comments will fly, but a rough type of breathing 

(however phony it may actually be) will go at least part of the way 

to enable the ensemble fight-scene, worked over for years, not to 

delay a pill, for chosen most will be neither still nor ready 

to retrieve a baked-in dose of Plantoni Brand slandered brain orthotic 

muff gristle. And, the fool you are, you thought it wouldn't be this easy, 

but I'll bark at you before my main food. The joy we feel is your

 walking-around jack.

It never isn't the grain which we insisted she pull, 

over and above the price of faking the overhead lighting 

situation for all to see, but shame you had not, just a 

not-quite-invisible marvelous routine hostile work/dance circle. 

(Please fill in the circle; since agreement is mandatory, 

we'll sweat this in pairs. Don't look less than three times).

Rick and Loomis stand to be the main beneficiaries 

of this horrendous longterm dispute resolution department 

betrayal gambit. As for those in your well-disdained 

affinity cohort abuse network surrender format, you know 

where you may be able to place a dull object rendered 

not only inactive, but actively obsolete by the machinations 

of the Brandywine Lane Collective, don't you? 

Let her out, will you!! Your refusal to respond is 

even more grounds for spreading titillating invective 

than anything dreamed up at Shoe Parlor Sundance 

Ridge Vaporization Glitterbug Assault Passive 

Surmounters' Clique. And it won't get any easier 

after that, you can be assured.