The River to Prey:

Posted in Rants, Reality by waldopaper on February 23, 2012

Exponential Function;

And drew the flock behind her, too,
As good bellwether always do… 
Sam Foss 

Ewe are  bellwether  because you took no time to look at them eating that thing.  Wildebeests do not know they are, and viral  history River is just one of them stripey things over there.  Occupy dust onus horizon ewe know something they don’t.  There’s blood everywhere, and exponential growth is unsustainable.  Exponential?  Unsustainable?  Are they beige?  Lungs and stomachs flying.  Bellwether made slipcraft before event horizon: water/ food/ energy/ information singularity.   Bellwether now follow calf-path bent around famine and war in well-established precedent: belief and knowledge.

Split like old wine skins, we know what “unsustainable” means.  Here is how it is… and here is how it will be.  Here in Duckburg we can go down to the river to play a food forest following that route for ten thousand years.  “They keep the path a sacred groove,  along which all their lives they move;”  but the Wilde beets diverged ten minutia ago and are out on the freeway looking for a Mickey-Dee’s where they hope to trade paper in pocket to cow chip in poncho.  The bellwether must da nobis hoodie boldly where no calf  hath  gone before.

River to prey is like math to moons.  Why else would they chew cud in gully and depression wednesday sea  tsunami get mommy?  Because they just folk and fly away.  There are no mirrors on the Serengeti, so if intro section is defect cult her story River is apostle bull.  Ring of  bellwether  first to move  in time.  Seventies over-anticipated, but  millennials could be right there.  The bellwether came to every occupy camp all over the world.  They pass class… not gas.

It is the difference between production and productive. destruction and destructive compostmodern.    All the girls want to slurp the fuhrer  for  product.  Are they being productive, or is it der fuhrer vot iss patooting  put product?   Stick around and find out, because that bad movie where you can’t walk out has been grinding on for 60 fucking years at least an eye scene enough.

Ponder on ponerologyof prudish popinjay politicians preening into the papers puffing pop can piety:  can you really talk about “…abandoning the Girl Scouts because they promote homosexual lifestyles” without being laughed out of town?  Yes indeed, in Duckburg where people just pooh a silent-but-deadly purple sifter right on the elevator and think no one will notice.

Well everybody nose about it but.. and that is the issue, is it not?  To whom belonged the but?  We who are a but to fly off the elevator salute you as it drops toward the basement and you cuckold culpability like rotary turtles all the way down.  Bobbing number of buts and yes buts is moot as a purple sifter when screaming mob falls on heavy the the red nose crash scene.

The Horror.  You abandon the girl scouts out there alone and ravished by advancing Bolshevik hoard corporate paper stuck to his fetid hairy bobbing teen swapping transgenders bum.   Does that freak you out, Morris, that your family values sound like a disturbingly bad porn movie? 

It’s getting nucking putz in Duckburg where the fear and the fantasy lope prey and Sheldon is herd (a disgorging word) and the skies drop hot lard Diebold day.  The burgers are clucks who think they are ducks.  Punch and Judy show play on wooden puppet heads is something lacking.  What they bleeds a damn good quacking.  Clutching forks and lives to eat.  They’re bacon.  The whole damn movie.  On and on.  And you think you can step out just before it gets interesting and jump before it hits the basement.  Nice try.  Purple sifters do not work that way on the elevator.  Maybe they all have a cold.  But they are two bozos on this box data the one what smelt it and dew one datum dealt it.  Somebody nose but no body smell.  Somebody bad stole de wedding bell.   King ding doing being… retro radio.

Maybe it is better that way to have the mind fade and through a door to a dream.  Nothing you say makes cents to anybody but it makes scents.  We were chopping and left our presence on the elevator.  What is so hard to stand under living in a world of stroke victims and all that matters is pew.  Sifters in church two.  Hand jive.  Saw the prequel.  Hope in the poor and hairs the sequel.  What is so hard.  They kin knot here you.  Propaganda. Prop again.  Duh.

Take a gander over in duck universe one quacks.  A cluck it lacks.  And they never drove a Nash potato get up from your chair now.  Woo baby.  Bout to be hit by a clue train.  Feathers everywhere.  They do not know they are wildebeests.  They have not seen the clip.  Clop even a buggy could hit them now.  Amish stand up for cheeses yew solders of lacrosse and nobody gets it.  Well duh.  Howard days  posed to?  Gotta speak in code.  Only the udders will crack the shibboleth.  Time to explain it to the ducks.  Quacks me up rally.

Here is the deal you say to the ducks.  We are all going to duck king fie.  There is node out.  Jump off on pretext floor maggot the puck out.  Dewitt now.  Go.  And the wildebeests fly like dry leaves before  the wild hurricane night before shot gun barks… opening day… red dawn.  They stop by after class occasionally but they are gaining altitude right now.  They are going to make it.  Eye kin tell.  Ewe cud two.  They ducking fodder goddard down good.  From then on they come unstuck in time and appear now and then to tell you the same thing about old Escape Claus gift of gabardine fabric in space time.  They are mobile and able to slip any banana republic.  Unless they are gap entail may teach.

But I am not ordained to preach. 



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