"War & Amour"
The pic below--having to do with a sci-fi thang, not southern fried ya'll, knowing that history repeats, and new Saints fashioned in the old will be reborn, as their candle has already been lit--kinda/sorta. Yet not anchored down by a false grid of negativity (it can't be done) and many other Lilliputian lies, lathered in lascivious lust-ways--no wonder Christ was a bit hostile, for we have forgotten the words of the Psalmist: "Ye are gods." Want to play it safe; next, be a rock star. What, I thought rock and roll was dead, you damn Yankee.
Slice their creeping elongation like a scrumptious piece of Brie de Meaux, yummying it up like my ex-mother-in-law, though with her: le coup de foudre.
Still, no TACO BELL, and never will run to that border--I hear the water has more crusty contagion in it than ours, while the government guys drink distilled liquids. Must be nice. They sit in a bubbling hot tub, a fat cigar in their oral cavity, singing: "Ho, Ho, Ho--I wonder how all the poor people are doing, hee-hee . . ."
And granny gifts them moonshine and red hair skunk to take back to sonny boy--the spoiled fink; however, some say a portion of those poor peasants are part of the 1-4-4. Never can tell, Wang. And Wang is a pleasant man.
