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Each of us…
Attention; Hot, Sweet Woman: Disabled and alone, I am a bachelor of science capable neither of being your payor nor lessor whilst here cloistered in my mansion. Yet, still I want hugs, kisses, to talk, and to listen… to each other. I seek your heartfelt and nurturing embrace in my twilit vespertine hour of stellar pondering. In your loving presence we will divine the diurnal path of heaven above. Then only further seek to unwind these elliptical scholiums of time and stand upon the firmament within our garden; the effort of achieving eternal life.
I definitively feel that there is something obstructing the functionality of my computer radio telephone. And, though I know such “crazy thoughts“, whilst we are all so mandatorily “happy and free” (from thoughts suspecting Morlocks) will probably result when I speak of them publicly, in my being thence sedated and sublimated for life within the way creepy subterranean wards of Hartford’s “Institution of Living”.
I’m not worried, I’ve yielded to the pharmacology that now controls the minds of the populace, whenever persons do not publicly have “lots of Eloi fun” despite causal suspicion of those unmentioned Morlocks in creating said melancholy amidst more observant Eloi.
So, many of the dutifully jubilant do in absence of real, inspirational, fulfilling, and actually lucrative non proletariat and non “worker world” jobs, they desired to be designated for mortals, then proceed to succumb to a certain despair. For many dream of occupations not just proprietary to those clairvoyants who have surpassed their early twenties achievements of multiple PhD’s in psychotropic megahertz receptor pharmacology manufacturing, or, equally exclusive amongst lesser scientists; the research and development of benthic cline borne tri-phase meteorology aerospace biometrics and geomagnetism resonance synapse response induction.
It is, after all, that few seem persistent in acknowledging post 1956 Highway and National Defense Act era valuations of such things as CDL’s, “human food product” and P. taeda pulp products as in any way being valid components of public health sciences amidst the Morrill University Act specification of Connecticut’s primary industries, with their exponentially concentrated foci in the exclusive pursuit of polymer based organic matter synthesis to metallurgical tissues in transgression of nature for the symbiotic interfacing of plasma computer brain prosthetics with sapience.
Anyway, thus, due to the modern efficacies of these often rare earthen mind control salt and derivative potions from epic pharmacologists, which were corralled by some Holiday law into the future realm of big pharma during prohibition -when speak easy sedition was the scapegoat for everything deleterious about tinctures in drams that could harm good whiskey-Now it is that mere few, mighty, now remain confined within the nearly abandoned mind prison structures unjustly.
Further, the dozen perfect people who speak of the current irrefutable truths contemporaneous to the now from upon the stage of the all media mutual fund center television oculus owner’s desk do say to us that Russia never obstructs the capitalist order. Conforming now, I meekly agree with this the resonance scanning view screen webbing’s master’s command to omit fear. Amidst virtual green ticker tape, it seems the USA has won all, only now relinquishing the prize, of oil from the apocalyptical crusade, lying proven beneath the vanquished monopoly’s substrate, and now demanded Chinese asphalt, shall thus be placed upon the world market stage whilst solar panels purport sustenance of our USA’s transportation sector beyond 2040.
Also, we programmatically rejoice at the oculus’s proofs that the idiot William Cody of Jersey City has fallen to the CPEC Shah, politically, and so that CPEC’s access to the “biocarboniferous and organic fossil polymer stock” helps bitcoin supply and demand. For, after all, the “oculus owner” says: “Let the market handle it.”. Currency is no longer dollars as commodities are now calculus.
Continuing, somehow constrained, I seem to sometimes write upon a corrupted platform now threatening a forced terminus to mine and my patriotism’s understanding of the USA’s 49 and upstate. I, amidst the beams then sometimes never watch the oculus beacon command center’s post three front unionist violence era power’s gentry and it’s abstraction proceeding into its fruition of global finite resource scarcity, while hidden within the bitcoin fiction, as the burgeoning world population, and Mr. Grassley’s Ramen, fodder, ethanol, biodiesel and Soy Foods dry bulk mega tonnage, destined often for the greater eastern seaboard of Asia and the Subcontinent, is, the calculus. (*additionally, the USA’s fodder and forage; generative of our highest protein content and most calorie dense foods are for God’s people (and certain pets)).
So, as I find myself unable to speak and publish, a certain programmatic webbing through the ethereal network of hardware and frequencies aloft is now obscured or is disrupted, with this made apparent by my portals evidentiary recurring statistical failure to provide an interface. No connections produce exchange of information through written or verbal communication. I am alone. There are only view screens. Is it “the oculus owner” who obscures my freedom to think?
Where is an intellectual woman (30-44) desiring her own chamber, askance mine, wherefore occasionally united; and thence where she is always here with me? And hugs, I dream of, she the might… unto our cuddling persistence be this apprehension mine where the pending slurry gush for the rhythm is to her ovum cycle. Yet, perhaps, with this said embrace, temporal, and it matched to tidal chance; then such being therefore in lieu of or maybe absent certain apparatus a sustenance to her as I wait; till closer at fortnight we perchance in vespertine time thence do proceed to the less mundane hour amidst these my tedious scholium realizations.
Might she have her own money, or care for my impoverishment, and not despair overly in regard to my intellectualism except to pledge to visit me occasionally; when I am relocated to the Institute of Living by police, so secret and clandestine? Certainly I assert these my cerebrations over the proletariat homogenization mantras and their desired frivolities in stead of the alluded theory’s work. And, I ponder such: the federated morrillity’s troops of places and their scripted purposes, exclusive paradigm to paradigm, transcending o’er which, I leer.