Practical Applications of Stamé Theory.

Erminguez Humferschlindk, ca. 1957

Stamé Theory, as first promulgated and developed by Erminguez Humferschlinck, has, as of this year, sent at least seven generations of entouferated germ extension curators to their metaphysical graves without so much as a 'how you do?' to show for their essentially bogus sing-song lavatory field whistles all the live-long day. And it's a damnable shame the way certain folks involved in my custody crisis insist that they (and only they) have any say-so when it comes to the proper way to propel an herbal noise abatement unit to the top of every wingnut's wish lisp while watching their own lips assume a posture of Tribal Pronoun Policy Surrogate in the high noon of our Stan Musial Instructional Biography.

The first dilapidated tablento of our acquaintance, which played such a pivotal role in the original kneeling paper outlining Stamé Theory, is now thought to be misplaced in alternate years, but since Year Zero (as it were) is nearly impossible to identify, what with all the application vendors who have fled the country rather than face the fact of their own metrical dimming process, it's up to you-know-who to finally encase an amber foot in taffeta and  be done with it. And what of it? I mean, do you or those you pretend to represent have any idea what could fail to occur if the lion's share of pad-smeared Etruscan turd rakers decide to go to even the most moderate of lengths without a telling wheeze to blow the whole thing wide open?

Finally, I just want to address the last person who might possibly read this: What moved you in this direction? Was it worth it? Really? Do your pants fit any better? Is there something you'd like to whisper in the dark when you (falsely) believe no one is listening —or even cares? Does this seem like a reasonable way to spend what could be the last six minutes of what passes for a particular zone of existence? Is this the only one you have any right to believe you'll ever know? Oh really? You don't say? Well, I'll be damned. And I mean that literally. Don't go there, girlfriend. But do come here. Got it?

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