One of the things we know ya know about the NAACP’s rationalization um for horrifying mutilation crime and snickering use of poison to posit a feud of scientific empathy from militarists knifing bystanders for social studies at Dialectical UW is that, like former Pitt Chancellor Nordenberg’s presiding over the book of the true Kennedy assassination, where Jacqueline Onassis sat somewhere South of Audrey Hepburn and North of Prisoner Maria, a le femme Nicola like Gail Burstyn, is that John Shulman’s activities are what Pittsburgh means by a provincial norm, so they fall over themselves surrendering to Yoko Ono at Warhol.
I knew for many years King Crimson’s advance promotion team, I know how they think and what it amounts to. Lew Karl used to talk about lighting a bag of shit on fire to watch their target stamp it out. Don’t be fooled by the racial Greek of the Black Lives Matter octopus. People feuding by ripper mayhem and bacteriologicals were the ones behind the attacks all along, they aren’t holy sinners looking after the flock. When exactly did Joey Biden know about the Burstyn letters?
Before you assume the lopers of UW mean well in cutting into your performance time, I think you should know their history. While Trump’s two-eyed cyclops routine certainly did make Biden look like the messiah of learning, there was more than a hint of Christian social science about the bi-partisan procedure.
Queen Elizabeth, Richard’s cousin, must have been about Greta’s age when that photograph of her giving the heil Hitler salute was taken that made the news, but you know little girls and Donald. Deafness is a gestural language and I’ve received so many from on high since the days of Bushy’s Read My Lips katzcalls that I am to be forgiven for seeing the kiss it goodbye that science Joe gave the right wing moderator at the second debate. We know about science Joe from the Wattenmaker neuroplasm that affected (a foreign Englsh word) a Jekyll and Hyde jealousy event for the Black Lives Matters whorehouse sit-in. Now that’s done, farewell the Jaggar stoval smells, his kiosk and his foreign English seed. Education jammed by rock star scorn and holy acid rock decree. Nature now a beautiful poem all pruned to bask and glorify a tyrannical aging priss’ vain and taunting egologic.
Um. The Borges Lennon gave them what they wanted for a day and then seized the towers built to last, sending in what they called in Pittsburgh the garbage troops for kissy lick and then grabbed the roman hams for the BLM octopus, making way for social progress. And no it isn’t more honorable than that. Martin Sheen is a douche.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-mwPYfF0NA
