Our song? Virtually impossible not to read ourselves into every dag gum word ever written, spoken or heard. Merv Griffin's wife Julann invented JEOPARDY on the plane.
You, at your News Desk, for all practical purposes, invented my wild ride inspecting a portion of lauded Northeast Corridor. Distinctly portraying the Neutering of Progress by The Diagnosed Malignant Robert Moses Train System of America. One of the country's best commuter rail systems, as everywhere else demonstrating how terribly far the country was led astray.
Coming back to town. Our spot where we had each other's eyes, if necessary. Find I'm thrown, immersed, into contesting shimmering faceless irresponsibility. The Military Cross Dresser From Shanghai's Seig Heil Salute.
Their shenanigans are so spread across history, we were just some collateral damage game. As per usual, the conscience-less driven start another escapade for which they point and say I went-that-away. Gnat Dr. Armand Hammer and Roy Cohn's psuedo-people let the Invasion of the Body Snatchers slip away.
The bastard, I. Relish remembering the moments Malcolm Forbes grinned beyond my, at the time, understanding. That's right. Us Real Capitalists, not Monopoly Monopolists, have had it in for FAKES a long, long time.
Malcolm Forbes and I conversed over The Hammer and Cycle's title, two years before the Soviet August Coup of 1991. Malcolm said, "What if he already knows about you?" About Dr. Armand Hammer. I made up an Elitist Congregation in business to disintegrate me? Has no one read history, Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr.?
"Why don't we say that's lunch."
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