Documented in, paraphrasing Literature, as A Confederacy of Dunces, would you believe a person acted out, Lord Buckley’s THE NAZZ, in front of me, without profiling any relevance to the “all for fear of hellfire?” I was supposed to tell the person what I understood on one listen, plus demon-stration. I told him, figuring things out as a person doesn’t happen like that. Some reading, another listen, could clarify why he acted out buffoonery? My independent isolation disgusted him, but what can I do? Lord Buckley never confused as I figured out, so, you know, illustrate. I sat there waiting for him to reveal anything his mind had worked out for itself, while he badgered me. Made sure he knew I’m a friend by having him check out Lord Buckley, for me, from the library. Sorry, friends come first, even in a Washington Post submission you’ll read later why I’ll accept being framed as mediocre if necessary. Washington Post has Editors.
So on page American Public Opinion Dress Down. Soulless posturing, unnecessarily, can’t face the proper pay ideal undone by the very nature of circulation becoming carved out from under us.
Those Not Facing Themselves
People can
figure history down to the fact is what
people throw away for their conveniences. The conspiracies of interactions require tolerations that pivot us through many cross-purposes, however right or wrong. I was raised to pocket trash till thrown away as my father asked my mother to tell me.
And a Clown Car full of bicycles drinking coffee? Some meeting had had crossing paths on the 56th Street Loading Dock. Huh, Seinfeld meeting agency people upstairs. "You know the bicycle on your show wall isn't a threat. But I've had cars aimed at me and many cats killed. No reason your successful career has to ruin itself sacrificing for bicycle they're already prepared to crucify you with anyway by mounting in on the wall instead of ready to Gideon the floor. Destroying the future controlling Contemporary History will have Their Enthusiasm Curbed. Some people don't listen, others wonder what the hell that means. It means when my editor and I sat for coffee whereHoward Stern and Jerry Seinfeld did I was the one telling him. And I don't have cable. Looked for it. Hell, I want to sit there ...
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