The 'definitive' Binnerva Studies document.

 

We've got to be pinching ourselves that the character of Binnerva Marfin-Tacksul is based on a progenitor race of Common Todds. They are said to not become depleted by the wind which is to be expected in a desert arena. Certain of our caregivers relate an account of prodigious slamming of dimpled cups while the phantom boys seek direction in a way which invites any kind of wreckage from implicating a Rector who enters our bungalow for a ride into town. We give each of them a stolen key which unlocks a sunroom door in the back of our least pleasant field. There they will find a ring of carpeted tunnels which open out into the last breezeway to be decorated with plaster icons of traditional personhood. All the veinage is intact and kept liquid to prepare for oncoming particles. The study of electrons is not to be fooled with unless one is keeping company with the older founders of the Junger Dineastes.  Then you can ask that your own hair be admired, even imitated, if the price accords with the expectations of this type of launch.

Each time a Binnerva has been catalogued in recent years, I have sent my daughter into hiding on the Warner Bros. lot. She found that by withholding prestigious co-hab segments from those dreaming up the marching orders for a legendary foe, she could steal herself for a minor dispute with an uncontaminated opponent. It helps that she reminds people of the kind of person will only appear to pretend to not disagree. In reality her hand can be remarkably steady if portions are controlled for solvency of abreaction. I know from my own experience that her hellish stare keeps uniformed bystanders occupied with guidelines set by a secret committee and marshalled into notorious effect through brimming enthusiasm. I think you've read my mind. It shows on the eyelids. Nothing like that ever lies, despite what some may have told you.

We plan on barging through a frontier capsule and strewing fenicular placemats in the direction we face to avoid memorizing dreary testaments to luxury condo demolition. Their one hope is that our piecemeal amplification will allow felicitous minstrels to seal our bow. No one can be certain whether of if the dream of sugary transcranial bastards can tweak the internal controls into summoning pendastronal steer-flies. The brim should be adjusted for maximal foam. Without that, our semi-permeable membranes could be in for a tough go of it. We will send a person in our stead if it come to that. Please prepare a book for this purpose. Any colors must be approved in advance. Our name cannot be relieved until any of the auteurs get here. Now, all bands can slip our plantlet. Sound is optional. Smell.

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Truth-in-Exhaust Measures in Play.

 

The sundry, Daymer-Day exhaust measures we've been warned to take are coming true, even now, at a moment of special time. For myself, I brought the pieces I've written about before here, to stand in a place of great honor. No one can be expected to benefit unless even the wiliest rascal who has become involved is taken in hand and given a bizarre ultimatum. The maturity level of our average member is already climbing on a monthly basis after warnings are given, absorbed and rendered obsolete by newly arisen crises which people talk about with great unease. Even the special coat, which I wear under less than trying circumstances, is now balanced between coming and growing, all the while taking up valuable space as our timeline approaches a 'zebra' moment. Is it too soon to take a leak?

The pages describe a difficult transition and are re-written in an archaic variety of Dutch Hebrew. That being said, we are finding coöperation in the silliest of locales. Our team is comprised of sub-teams, each of which rides through their own section while taking notes which cannot be shared widely without sacrificing our Epictiple Mandate. Not one of us  would think of applying for an alternative scenario unless we thought it unwise to sustain a dying protocol of courtesy and overbroad faith in our plastique kenmarck. Laugh if you want, but please be ever so still when daring to compare the struggles of our junkier sanit-wads with the hyper masculine reflexive nabobs and their cozy ideas of 'truth under pressure'. Sure. But will you?

Now we intend to grasp the apex of reasonability and spray force in ungiven dissections. Our balms to a peasant tradition continue to be traduced on a day-in, day-out basis. Plumbing the shoals of an ennobled precision will no longer suffice to wreak kapoks on a newly appreciated glacial whimsy if our Grand Utica Emerald is to be profaned at a carpeted source-code fleamont. It stares us directly in our spastic faces and brings the soap a-boil with the best of our riding stares. Some will help the little ones get started on their own. The rest will transfer to a split-built, camera-ready diagonal barb. The coating will strike the strident ones like a justified barn in the chirrup of a fractured density. If anyone is likely to bend toleration to suit the knee of a lovable housewife, it will be my divorced manager of three sullen migrants. They don't imagine anyone else could be called, what with the drainage plan we've begun to enact. All of it is ripped into pretty shreds. Colors are suspended for one month. Yes.

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