By Dirk C. Fleck.
Humor is a survival tool. Books are food. So what are humorous books? Organic products of the mind, assembled by modern shamans who are hunted by the DEA as endomorphin dealers. Why this severity? Because humor oxidizes on the steel grids of the surveillance system and could cause the supporting columns to collapse. After all, the power elites, better described as directors of the Matrix, fear nothing more than that the humorous, i.e. fearless, influence in our brains leads to unconventional synapse connections, so that the greed-driven messes are illuminated by us right to the bottom. Whoever, as a powerful person, is dealing with enlightened beings can go home. That this is so, we will try to prove here. In other words: this is a literary attack.
city must bend down … prophetic melons against flood … departure without entities … circle of pictures with snowfields at the foot … ribbons on strollers have no windows … embraced fatigue two-legged … neither sand nor paws in the rage … unyss scale collection three leaf … a thousand sticks topple winners … oeih3oiweu äshjc-vrevbb? w lö qrtqw034… error…
TERROR! Echoing from the underpinned boxes. Dear Satanists, ERROR writes itself without T.
How is this text to be interpreted? First of all, one thing is clear: it undermines the NSA search engines and leads their super-algorithms into the cosmic wasteland, as the poor rich tend to call the universal sea of unlimited possibilities in their all-embracing ignorance. As Prof. Toyota said to his friend Friedrich Fiat: “The emptiness has been preached enough, now it’s about football!” Dada est ergo sum. Or esta bueno esto! The ball, the bullet, the leather, the play equipment, the pill, the projectile, the marble, the cherry – everything as before.
What’s the score? “5-1!” – “I don’t believe it!” – “The defenders are keeping way too much distance!” – “A meter and a half, to be exact.”
So who’s in control of the interpretation here? We or the neo-Satanists from Fort Meade? The latter, you say? Well, it can’t be helped. But that’ s not true. (My friend frankly Frank is just now giving us to consider to intersperse hand and foot into the text from time to time, otherwise it will go into the nonsense corner and that has to be prevented in any case). “What’s the score?” – “Still 5-1. My hand on it.”
Let’s stick to the festival of ivory and endomorphins. You can buy a bucket for five euros. Nothing’s free. You make your own endomorphins? And you think they’re of better quality than ours? Because they’re enjoyed by a group of hysterical mask fans? But you know the stadium regulation, according to which 51 percent of the produced quantity has to be paid to the Gates Foundation, which stretches the product until it is enough for everyone. According to the motto: you get the needle or thin whistle, which is both unpleasant. “What’s the score?” “5-to-6.” Oh, that was a close one…
Thus everything culminates once again in the question: IS THERE A LIFE AFTER VACCINATION? And if so, how many …?
With exuberant greetings
Your target object
Thanks to the author for the right to publish.
Image source: Besjunior / shutterstock
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