At times in life, one must speak French to the idiot, for savants come in all Ginsu forms. Some have thought my French language skills are pseudo-Japanese as the Oriental mind is incapable of superior Western thought.
Alas, Baby speaks in advanced plasma codex and one must communicate in codex which she would recognize and the multi lingual debutante of pseudo American is incapable of comprehending the intelligent interaction of the greatest plasma mind ever created in the Lame Cherry who is always right.
For me to be burdened with such island happy shrews who are in search of the penis for their dehydrated cherry is a burden, for their pit has become their nut without a sack to put or to hold their tampon dispenser. So for those who never do comprehend the Inspiration of this blog, I suppose there are multi lingual Cheerios boxes to read as they munch on their rice paper vegemite sandwiches. As for me, I am Blessed. I am in Kansas City watching all of you memorialize a nation which was as I write physical poetry on the body of Life of the Flower of my Tiger Lily, Who is my Eternal Destiny and all of my Love.
She is Light and all that is Good. Her kisses are the soft Promise of Eternal Dawn. She is Love and overcomes all hate.
In the Tiger Lily's drawer is a Ginsu. In her hands it is a cutting edge. Ginsus are like children, they should be seen and never heard. They are not taught French for a reason for no one looks to the rising sun of Japon when viewing it as already set from the American oasis upon which foreigners mind tread for Baby comprehends my dialects, for I speak in Inspiration while others grunt in natural law and no one cares what they say nor listens as they butcher their bananas dreaming of them attached to a man who actually would care to be peeled by them. Godzilla himself would run screaming but he did not abandon his nativity like Obama to become an American whore, piggyback Paperclips to Fat Boys in a tsunami of nuclear reactor meltdowns.
Hoping to be Sarah Palin and looking kabuki.
agtG
