We attended the same Junior High School, but I could never understand how (Malcom was older) and could continue to stare you down and he was right. Right about everything. The whole of it. All the pain. All the suffering. He knew. I thought he might be bones in the boneyard of Accurate History Teaching West Junior High School Comrade but I was in the wrong bone boot yard. I was working with Blind Children in Queens. There is no truth to the Breaking of the Cord of Ethics. What are you talking about, ethics. I just don’t like things. Like Queens. Many things. One year, there was a strike. Special Ed Drivers pulled kids from the little yellow buses into the snow and left them there. I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. These kids lives are in our hands. They’re Fucking Blind. Why are they being punished. Why are they forced to sit in snowbanks I just do not fucking get it. I wrote things I should not have written. Don’t do it. The snarling on the street alone. Why. Money. I would leave the house. You would pay right upfront. Eyebrows I was amused with editors who literally ran their publications from the back of Limos from CashInChange stuffed in brown paper grocery bags. Leaving the house has to be of some value. I do not know what else to say is we are either compassionate or we were I Have No Idea Who We Were WhileThey a-r-e profoundly disabled, and scary in this spacetime zone or in any other, and I am here to tell you your neighborbood is about to be blown up, the whole SpiderManBigPancake, and there is no goddamn fucking record the Archives of Value are of any Value.

It does piss me off some. What the fuck am I doing this blow on the Internet no reason, not even rhetoric will go there. The Big Trucks on the Interstate are a defiance I can gnaw on as I stare down the fucking inevitable why am I doing this and stop telling me to calm down in rest areas, oh, please. Stop telling me to shut the fuck up. I have no tolerance let’s have an all-out gunfight with the cops in full view of Dirt Bike Town where they are taking the OK Corral as no more inevitable as stupid men making stupid decisions. I don’t want to rebuild culture anymore. I want to be left alone. But was sped-along not unlike the tailwinds of uncertainty. The good and the bad, the naked and the ones in dead fur, the slithering human slime at the bottom of the feeding barrel, and what is it anyway about what has been going into the feeding pens and the big storms were of concern, and it did kinda hit my autistic brain in the shaking of distant rattles, there are naked babies hung from ropes. It’s genocide. It’s not genocide. It’s definitely genociceis that. Everyone knew these guys who were on trial. They were all hung while we ate free pizza. I want it to be all like Good People Do Good Things Like Raping Kids In Dentention and It Is Just too cocksucking bad, bitch.

Mescaline is a bad thing to do. Especially so early in the morning, but what the fuck. With steaming hot coffee. Not the Old Hippie Way. No donkey dung. They buy it. I sell it. Often, in the back of stolen cars, all the fucking from the backseat, we get the picture. James Joyce would be slated bright red. A rose is a rose or your Sister From Why does someone as Autistic As I Am I Can Cover It Up, Good, Too. Limited Choices is what we do.

Tax Free Gains on the sale of your homes where are safe places for safe locations for safe mortgages ushering in safety and value and solidity and it’s never fucking Vegas until it is. How about that Biggo Pop Machine Red Button, oh, daddy-oh selling green Ragu is as good for you accordingly. It was then that I realized she was a princess. Of Excess. The Princess of Excess was with the FBI. Have you ever had to sleep in different Times Square Motel Rooms every night. How many Sim cards can a donkey carry. Don’t fuck with these guys unless you can fix by hand and update the software yourself one by one. The one that controls all the ATM macines in one location. I would recommend Daddy stays clear of Louisiana, Girl, it’s an automatic, not a stick shift.

One MainFrameBrainDrain goes where the money is. Not where the money goes. But where the money is. Crooks and books. A community more crooked than a barrel of fishooks.