Little wonder they lament in lower reaches while gumption and simple reasonings traverses blissfully over their heads and horse sense gallops nonchalantly in wake of their dimness The witless wonders of percerption control stage placements of stale wenches in thoughtless imagines to titilate alas foolhardy nonsense for simple deduction would know the type does inclined to be excited thus would in roaring drought would long ago have gone to pay for it for those so easily excitable will nurse compulsion to do as such or in dire desperation would have made a call to the Gold Coast home of an old friend if just for a dip
Face the truth your impacts are even lesser than you and your ignorance and insignificance is as ignorable as you your stale wenches flatter themselves I don't see useful idiots and flying monkeys even in drought nor do I allow them in my dreams
“There’s no room for demons when you’re self-possessed.”