The Correct Use of a Blunt Echo Tube.

There, but for the correct use of a blunt echo tube, would the final setting for this season's Trobriand Masquerade Fusion to  barely escape recourse in a dated reference to one so boldly knocked. It thrills the adjutant of an eight-fold parsimony luck-field to grow and become equipped to train an ever widening demographic to steer the Ship of Hate in circles of every Oxford-trained archaeologist's fondest deft friendlessness. But the wholesale weaponization of furtive pride now looks like the smartest move in a book of salient whispers. It will get you arrested in a little used mustard supply chain fiasco, but shouldn't mean squat to the shy menacers who rule my ghost out-of-bounds three out of five times. It just isn't fair.

In what's commonly known as a first rate 'shield of breezes', a color-coded evacuation contingency fragment will move only so many statues of  Nelson Riddle to the outskirts of a toneless festival of muted access drivel. Where you shed the patiently ballsy interrupted scope of pills, I see a truth regime taking hold and bounding impudently across lines of blind force. It's the faith we tabulate at ghastly intervals which, at a fierce remove, will insure corpulent Hottentots a place in my expanding Sun. The dream of a misplaced wasp. A song we will hum while no one leaps into the gap of action. Why does it rain?

Our smallest penqule is the merest benefit to become standard, with dating to proceed willfully and trangent fogarties in the plus-size aisle—a notion now lost to the winds of rhyme. What keeps us up at night? Could it be that the answer to that question cuts just a little too close? Or am I being one? If so, don't expect an apology because the frame I live for is just one more livid excuse in a hut like all the others: two fronds, one cabal, and no easements to speak of. While we sit and care for our wand, the troupe of banshees you call 'family' is just now breaking daylight in half with an aplomb gone nuclear. This might prove shattering or may possibly inspire an insolent smattering (of garrulous guffaws?). Where does it say that this is all? Not here. Not ever.

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