i think i’m going to be sad…

passport if there were any doubt previously, it must surely be erased with the realization that the largest book club in the world was actuated by a syndicated daytime television talk show in the united states of america; it is clearly evident that all the insidious tools of influence are being levied at all levels to impel societal norms…what comfort there is knowing continuity exists.

heretofore an unremarkable footnote most notable for it’s lucrativity in preying on un-actualized females and it’s success in garnering readership of william faulkner outside of university literature courses, the denuding of it’s thin veneer of credibility revealed the artifice of the instrument in the recent attempt to restore the integrity of the ignoble brand. while the durability of the commodities of big jim industries are debatable, it is clear that the labeling of it’s proprietor a fabulist by a habitual wearer of wigs without a hint of irony, but rather, in effort to let the blood desired, with overt theatricality of self-righteous dudgeon, is farcical entertainment, at worst, and, at best, a testament to our end times.

the bifold thrust of the former host of a.m. chicago was that the continued actualization of her cupidity may have been impugned by big jim industries, but more importantly this freighthopper threatened the probity of the gravy train upon which she is a passenger. the hobo’s ticket forgery allowed him to become a passenger of that artless locomotive in which the valueless connive to be perceived their opposite and reap fiduciarily…unfortunately cursory scrutiny by fellow passengers did not reveal his canard, yet once revealed by like-minded sycophants searching for their way on board, his ticket was asked for, demands for his papers were required, and having been found to be out of order, he was summarily remitted to the ordinarity from whence he came, leaving behind an inviolate gravy train for further mediocrity to ride.

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