The meeting is at 10:00 AM
So let’s begin
High above on the 38th Floor
In the Conference room, a view of new World Trade Center right across for everyone to explore
The Business Manager gave his welcomed speech
It’s was to everyone he was trying to reach
The Board shows the arrows of sales elevation in 90% results flow
However during the months of May and June show a decline of 70%
Due to the economy being extremely slow
Yet Oppenheimer helped everyone feel assured
After that, there was hands of applause
The Business Manager stated, “Oppenheimer has a solid portfolio foundation handshake
So we are known in the financial world and assets in what’s at stake
Oppenheimer Trader’s are well trained
We hit the bull’s eye being the aim
Let’s keep Oppenheimer on top
Keep focused and don’t stop
Now with that said
I will take questions from the floor
As you ask the questions, I will think then I will analyze and my outcome in concept planning surprise
Later the meeting was adjourned
Now go out and continue to produce in using what you learned
You are Oppenheimer’s success story and our talent is our glory.

That Spring afternoon of my Upper-Middler year at Andover, I had just spoken with G. G. Benedict, the man who controlled, in effect, at which college you would matriculate. Columbia and Yale were at the top of my list. "Fine, fine, Tod. You've done very well here," he said. That evening, every student found a place to sit in George Washington Hall auditorium. Oppenheimer was to speak. I sat in the balcony, but I could see the man well. He looked as though he might have been around plutonium too long. Gaunt, pale, he began speaking. I cannot remember a single word he said that evening, but I will never forget the portentous feeling that came over me:  DREAD (or should I say "dead"?) Over half a century after Oppenheimer's speech, humanity sits precariously on the cusp of extinction. A hydrogen bomb is 1,000 times more powerful than the atomic bombs we dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and there are thousand of hydrogen bombs we know about on Earth presently, not just the two atomic bombs Oppenheimer had. If only one hydrogen bomb accidentally explodes, scientists say that explosion will be enough to cause "Nuclear Winter." The sky around Earth will grow so dark that sunlight will not be able to penetrate it;  thus, nothing will be able to grow and we will all starve to death. Every living creation on Earth will die. I think Oppenheimer, as smart as he was, knew, at least subconsciously, he had lit the fuse to inevitable annihilation of all living things.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

In the USA. Untitled, And they have been communicating
with their clothes teaching the fables of the old heroes in
Europe, in general, the pink ones and their lips, the King
Robert Oppenheimer and Einstein in their socks with their mothers
or they stayed when they saw the slaves of Life born from the bad
state of education.
It was the music of Babylon, the messenger who had heard
about alchemy, and weapons, T to run and then to China
began to the cities on the list, the wars were his mother,
and the light at noon, and the network. The fear of the girl to the human eye, seems to be the song of the night;
Better than an American from the top of the water,
Or the black color is ****, warm, beautiful,
American football in Europe and legs, and really died.
Europe and Asia will follow the gray stars,
and they will burn in the blood.
Gold and bronze to Italy and Juan. Dogs are going
to change the history of the military;
African border The Greek countryside is black, green.
Queen of South Yorkshire Thomas lives in the shape
of a donkey; Women have lost celestial parts. And Christians
have the heart to find food in July.
I will warm the garden with clear graphic radios.
Children's fingers of the UV glass moon photography
The game is easy for your children due to the witchcraft
of the devil. Friends of pleasure brown star music
of Jews and Christians. The best way to a man of peace,
the song of the beast out of the luck of the robot, Igor's
Science plays the stage of rock in the opening oboe solo
to start the game.
Thinking of rich colors; Subscribe to Belle Canada;
The game of games is to remember ***** dirt,
the destruction of German poets;
Park instead of pure crazy secret life.
But the offer of hot coffee kills photos
and an angry museum in Virginia Basic
Italian love, you have paid attention
to your security tools. If the decorations
on the leg of the leg have been good, it will work well.
I have to do it forever and it ends in the window,
and the windows are in the memory.
The USA dresses at a table and talks about vitamins in Europe.

I was happy with the socks, the pink lips and, in general,
the mother of King Robert Einstein; With modern life
there is a cycle of the lyrics of Barbie's song.
Do not listen to the parts, you start to find alchemy,
The Chinese of civilians, the angels of the fort
and the reforms of the Medes. For your pain, cause or prophet Marco.
In the manger, Thomas understands the images from the north.
Order of the undulatory nature of the temple girls,
read the complementary Oriental versions of the young black
stripper's memoirs with angel Bettie's movement;
Paul, Bob started reading the hidden light in cash.
The parts of Satan Lion and the predators
of the mountain top are very dear to convert the sister
of the club into a kind of machine inclined laiyara
By strippers we serve magical dolphin dragon eggs.
Stop bleeding because of the smell of paradise.
Ullamcorper language problems. But it is the
vital force of the diet that you have seen the game.
when the dogs smoke; Those who love you call the police.
This is Laura, and fire, it's easy to describe
the sophisticated corners of your corner.
In order to last hours, but the nature of the long;
You will have a great woman, she will bring you
the yellow sports shoes for adults, or three dead
and legs of Europe and American football in Europe
and Asia will follow the stars that breathe blood,
air, gold, Jean, Italy, history of War, conversion,
chain, Greek future, Greek poet, queen of the
southern form. Donkey who lives Thomas of York,
Mrs. Vedas went 100 times to Vedas [Italian dog],
and brewery Christ and British car Ooreşgeriya
Şoreşa, it is an obvious matter with the 400 and
the common cattle of Russia,    you are like my
sister and a robot,      They did not regard them as
robots, but helped other countries with prostitutes
in that country, Zia Kunj Vesora. You can do
this in any case. When I talk to the president,
I can not explore Victoria, because while the
Thompson twins Bach and Thomas
are Aristotelean and do not want to work,
the women listen to what they hear: 20: 80:
8 players, that is, the Valencia Provider, *****
Class, Nigeria. ? Africa Vohra for AP / Motor
/ 9 32XX in Spain In 2008, more *******:
Florida, White Fargo, 26.4% and 9.8% in the
United States 26 to 42 42 42, in the United States
530,000 hectares in the United States 37, All
the country of the United States, 40.00 and 0.53
million from Saudi Arabia, General Secretary
Isabel Estonman Mallcom Michael Wolf Best
32/500 ... "Thomas is not enough .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
Nigeria, Dave, Russian fashion 80 8 20 T Tec
is Uranus Skull, Australia 42.40, 14.0 9 40502
14% -2, Eupiteropoly, Saudi Arabia 41 offset 5.33

II. [Poets & Prostitutes]
In the United States Unnamed: *****, they are communicating.
His clothes teach the allegory of the old hero.
Europe, generally, the pink ones and their lips are the king.
Robert Oppenheimer and Einstein made a mother wear socks.
Or they kept looking at the slaves Educational situation;
It was the music of Babylon who is a listener.
Alchemy, weapons, T run, then China.
He started a list of cities, the war was his mother,
Light and midday network. The fear of the girl's
human eyes is like a ******* night song. It's better
than water to Americans,                         Or the color of a black *****
is naked, warm, beautiful,                              European football player,
really dead. European and Asian prostitutes
follow the gray star, They burn with blood.
Gold, bronze, Italy, Juan. The dog will go
Change the history of the army.
The African border of the Greek countryside
is black and green. Thomas Queen of South Yorkshire
Thomas, A female donkey has lost the heavenly part.
And Christian Please find food in July.
I heat the garden with a bright graphic radio.
Photos of the moon of the fingers as children
of UV glass.        This game is easy for your magical
children. Devil's pleasure Brown star music
music friends It is the best way for peace
people, between Jews and Christians.
Igor, lucky song of the robot beast.
With the opening of a unique oboe,
science plays the blocking stage.
Start the game Think of rich colors.       Subscribe
to Belle Canada. The game of the game
is to keep *****. Destruction of the German poets.
Park instead of a pure crazy secret life.
However, the supply of hot coffee will **** photos.
Virginia's basic **** museum
Italian love, you are paying attention
To your security tools. Decor
If your legs are working, it will work.
I have to do it forever and it ends up
in the window. The window is in memory.
The United States dresses at the table
and talks about European vitamins.
***** without an American title,
and they are communicating. His clothes show
the allegory of the old hero. Europe, generally
******* and pink lips, the king.
Robert Oppenheimer and Einstein
wore their mothers socks. They saw a slave
born of evil. The state of education It was the music
of Babylon to which the evangelist was heard.
Alchemy, weapons, T run, then China.
He started a list of cities, the war was with his mother,
The light of midday, and the network.
Fear in the eyes of girls is like a nightly song.
It's better than American water,
Or black, naked, warm, beautiful,
European and six foot football is really dead.
Europe and Asia follow the gray stars,
They burn with blood. Gold, bronze, Italian *******,
Juan. The dog will go Change the history of the army.
The African border is a black and green *******.
Thomas Queen of South Yorkshire Thomas,
A ******* of a ******* lost part of the sky.
**** and Christian Please have a heart to find food in July.
I expose the garden to the heat with bright graphic radios.
Image of crystal glass UV glass child fingers crystal.
This game is as magical as it is easy for your son.
The pleasure of the devil's feminine brown · star · music · friend
This is the best way for peace between
Jews and Christians. Igor, a beast robot
of the luck to sing. With the opening
of a unique oboe solo,    science plays the blocking
stage. Start the game
Think of rich colors.     Subscribe to Belle Canada.
The game of the game is to ***** the dirt.
Destruction of the German poets.
Park instead of a pure crazy secret life.
However, hot coffee suppliers will **** photos.
Virginia's Basic Museum Is Angry
Italian love, you are paying attention,
Your ***** security tool.     Decor
If your feet are working, it will work.
I have to do it forever, a ***** and it ends up in a window.
The window is in memory.
The United States dresses at a table and talks about European vitamins.

Messiahs and martyrs
And saviors
And saints
Sacrosanct
Sanctimonious
False idol feints
Behind gates,
Palace walls
Fortified in a lie
An elaborate,
Enduring
Mythos we contrive
And apply
To the lives
Of misguided lost souls
Filling holes
With the answers
Of what never knows
How to be of this world
Without more to assign
What is so picture perfectly
Flawed by design
Intertwined with
The years we spend
Spacing in time
Agonizingly trying
To find
Our own kind
Out among the expanse
Starry satellite trance
Higher intellects seek
And destroy
To advance
The agenda, to claim
A new age
Under orders
Anointed upon
The consent
Of the heaven-sent
Nuclear bomb

the users of chinese require a respectable memory of logograms, but then the european languages users require a respectable memory of combinations of a limited number of "logograms", well, indeed limited, in comparison to the chinese range... and in so doing seem to have created a knack, a desire to create iconoclasm, a barrage of excess image crafting, whether in painting or photography, even logos are taken for equal representation among paintings and photographs in terms of being qualified as equals... if there's a quest at hand... it's to find the tetragrammaton in chinese: Y (convergence of three directions), H (the selfish twins of the ego), W (sine & cosine ripples, the ripples of a drop in a lake of a glass of water), and H (the selfless twins of the ego)... something like that - obviously upon interaction, used, the the two pairs of egos become the real dynamism interchanging their coupling... while the Y and W are seemingly constants.*

looking at the many maxims of la rochefoucauld,
so many seem true... but then again too
much truths and not using the Kantian
filter that the categorical imperative is...
and you stumble into custard of a maxim
kaleidoscope... obviously i'm not denying the truths,
but, as Kant pointed out... one truth will do,
the rest as there to be observed as if from-thin-air,
but it's still only one maxim, the ccategorical
imperative spurning you on, all the others do not
provide a vector consistency for you to repeat,
fall back on... i do appreciate the many observations
in la rochefoucauld, but too many maxims
and you do not which to grasp, wrestle with and
utilise to its maximum potential, not one becomes
a vantage point of safety, too many of them
and you're dancing naked under the tree of forbidden
knowledge... making it a bit of a foolery paying
homage to Bacchus... drunk on too much of it...
not really able to incorporate all of it, incorporating
too much of it is hardly strategic, one maxim will do,
a categorical imperative, a strategy of a measured
footpath, one will do...
but apart from that, considering each maxim with
a method i devised... dilution using synonyms...
that old chestnut, king solomon's
Ecclesiastes 1:2... meaningless! meaningless!
utterly meaningless! everything's meaningless!
in another citation the word vanity is used...
now vanity does not necessarily imply meaningless
as the closest synonym... in the latin tongue
vanity (vanus) implies empty... hence my revision
of the cartesian concept of res cogitans (thinking thing)
using res vanus (empty thing)...
if meaningless is given a disruption and a refrained
use, instead using the closer meaning to the latin (empty),
then i can see a better scenario...
everything is empty: emptiness! emptiness! utterly empty!
everything is empty! i find this to be a less pessimistic
conclusion on the matter... after all gravity was empty
prior to newton, who filled it; natural selection was empty
prior to darwin, who filled it; electromagnetic rotary
devices were "empty" / didn't exist until michael faraday
came along... the atmosphere was empty, until
leucippus and democritus came along, later proven
wrong by the supposed non-divisibility of the structures
by otto hahn and fritz strassmann and oppenheimer...
these evaluations suggest that people come across
these empty things, either by direct sensory perception
or through theoretical mingling, and fill them...
there's nothing meaningless as such as stressed by
Ecclesiastes 1:2... things are necessarily empty, in order
to be filled, and that gives meaning to man...
therefore... emptiness!! emptiness!
utterly empty! everything's empty! this, the dilution
using synonymousness as a divergence from
what strict interpretation would provide should
only a limited vocabulary be applied - rather than
an extended vocabulary of a juggling act.

No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse.
                                             Eve

I'm sure red's a better color for me.
                                              M. Monroe

She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.
                                              Ulysses

N­ow that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest
guy on Earth.
                                             D. Trump

You're too Jung to understand the Superego.
                                              S. Freud

No. You keep it. I have enough.
                                              B. Graham

Are you sure that's the Delaware?
                                              G. Washington

E=Mc Donalds.
                                              A. Einstein

Go pound salt.
                                              Gandhi

Wha­t day is it?
                                               Roosevelt

T­hat's one small.... oops!
                                               N. Armstrong

I don't remember any of my dreams.
                                               M.L. King, Jr.

Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.
                                                Jesus

Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?
                                                W. Churchill

Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.
                                                 R. Starr

It's just too big to wrap your brain around.
                                                 S. Hawking

Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.
                                                  Robespierre

Before I was fined, I walked the line.
                                                   J. Cash

Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?
                                                  Tolstoy'­s editor

What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?
                                                   H. Ford

I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.
                                                   ­Oppenheimer

I've never liked orange juice.
                                                    N. Brown

Really? You want to blame me?
                                                    ******

He stings like a butterfly.
                                                     S. Liston

#timesup #metoo
                                                     A. Boleyn

Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?
                                                      Bell­

Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.
                                                      R­.W. Sears

To be or to do be do be do.
                                                      Shakes­peare/Sinatra

When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin *******.
                                                      E. Whitney

We're the team to beat!
                                                      Toro­nto Maple Leafs

Don't call me a Mother!
                                                      Mo­ther Theresa

Is that a Cuban*?
                                                      M. Lewinsky

"Thus fought the heroes, tranquil their admirable hearts, violent their swords,
resigned to **** and to die." – Jorge Louis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths

stoic labyrinthine sparrow-bone;
there is a slalom down your gullet,
bayonet curled around your neck,
you have a beak, you are *****-smooth,
have rubble for skin, an emaciated infinity:
everything is fractal so eat your words
they are you are your rusty toenails
every footstep is a holocaust there’s
genocide under your neurons,
watch them flex and shiver.

you have soft plastic lips,
there is a vacuum in your gullet,
a box cutter carving
through your adam’s apple:
epileptics are just indecisive,
when they seize hold their tongues
they are their words you are a god
are oppenheimer and shiva,
pick favorites it doesn’t matter
it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter
flex and shimmer we are just neurons
flatlines are not ghoulish nooses,
paraplegics are just cowards,
move with conviction each step
is a genocide, you have wooden
teeth and woolen wings,
thrashes are a velveteen sunset
an edible fog, your stomach
is a stomach do not eat the fog
just know that someday it will **** you
softly and swiftly.

it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter:
infinity is not recursive
alive is not our default state
once is the only route
blood makes the blade holy
if you cut me i will bleed,
i won't blame you just know
you were only ever
that very moment.

It was six in the morning**: I sat in a cab dangling on small-talk with a middle-aged white male cabbie basted in the demeanor of the over-friendly uncle. He asked me about school—I'm hyperawake, paranoid, body pulsing, feeling loose, depersonalized, and lightly psychedelic—my vision wavering as if someone had entered my skull to punch raw brain. I did a gram and a half of ******* that night; mixed lines with ketamine to simulate a proto-psychosis, but am convinced I may very well have driven myself past the point of no return. I'd been doing this strict mix for over 2 straight weeks, landing myself in out-of-body experiences and coked-out drawls on the floor like a sad, puckered monkey chewing on a lemon it mistook for an orange. Why I led myself to this existential precipice is both beyond me and totally within my rational sympathies if I pretend I am on the outside looking in.
When I was 18—drawn, for the first time—away from smalltown Powell River and into the Vancouver suburbia of Port Coquitlam, my only successful job-find was a McDonald's arched inside a Wal-Mart. The double-insult this presented me as a teenage anarchist pushed me deep into my first true emotional crisis which I only turned to accept after a particular phone call with my father in which he appealed to me to think of this stint as a 'temporary social experiment'; a chance to learn and breathe this proletarian experience from the inside out. During the pre-Christmas night-shifts, the only customers we ever had were the dark, apathetic silhouette-people Wal-Mart hired to greet the absolutely no one's walking through the door. I incessantly cleaned what was already a mirror-wet floor and made sad conversation with Rosario—the slightly autistic shift-manager with a prickly-shave of a face and an awkward sense of humor I could never come to appreciate and yet always managed to humor in polite obsequiousness. Regardless, it was a form of spread and endless boredom that began to fascinate me; it brought me to a darkness I had never quite known. It was an experience—like all experiences—to be had at least once, to the fullest and truest intensity. To be pushed with reckless sincerity.
Ever since, I have found myself pushing every limit to disembodied extremes—on occasion, to points of such profound irresponsibility or feigned responsibility that I break a particular streak and wind-up on the other dichotomous side of whatever line I unintentionally (or intentionally?) crossed (or broke?) because everything is a social experiment and I've touched the multifarious lives of overworked modernity, residential care aide, dishwasher, Christopher McCandlessesque wilderness jaunt, melancholic Kierkegaard, psychonaut, and now: a short-lived ****** inspired by the excess of Burroughs and the early beatniks all willing to **** their darlings for the sake of blood-stained posterity.
And yet meanwhile—in the cab—I can feel my headache grow perceptively wider from my left temple. Almost like a mushroom cloud over Bikini Atoll I am watching from as safe a distance as the physical body can withstand, according to some calculable hypothesis drafted by Oppenheimer himself. I am constantly amazed at how lucid I am in conversation with this friendly cabby; given that I feel as if I'm about to go ******, focusing so deftly on the way the streetlights glide across placid puddles moving only with our tires intervention—and the way I keep imagining insanity in the form of a zombie-likeness of myself strapped into an electric chair, skin melting and eyes rolling back in my head as I seizure to metaphysical death—I still laugh away short quips about the blind-leading-the-blind (he has no idea how to find my destination, and keeps pulling over to check a book road-map for 4143 Hessington Place). The only reason I am with him now is that I am venturing to see my girlfriend at her group-house past Uvic where the door is always unlocked for friends and friends-of-friends, she being the only solution to this crisis with her stash of .5 Xanax pills.
I remember those tense moments—with my body and brain as taut as a bow—he would pull over or pull out and my entire existence seemed to move through space and time as if against a wind that was perpetually in resistance—as if my entire consciousness was going to capsize into some form of overdosed darkness. Even when I exited the cab and waved a friendly goodbye to the old man, I could feel my dopamine receptors attempting to fire on empty. This caused a latent buzz that was only solved with two milligrams of alprazolam and my eyes wide shut until my head shut down.

I held her close. I knew she thought I was an idiot.

I don't like honors
It just doesn't appeal to me
That such a surreal feeling of recognition
Is attributed to such intense hard work and innovation
I don't like honors
It puts on the pedestal of human achievement
Whereas, my work is meant for the few, who arrive at it
I don't like honors
It doesn't do me good to biased towards my own
Qualifications
That's why I love contributing
Because it gives me peace in this pensive mind searching for the end
Of the vast tunnel of possibilities, where questions are answered
And answered questions are an explicable form of logic
Contributing is a logician's ebullient dream
Because this hand is meant for forgiving and not taking
I guess that's why we have the sun set on a place too far
I guess that's why we have a fascination for the beautiful
Because it helps us understand ourselves better
And feel connected with our own art and creation
I don't like honors
It makes me feel like a destroyer of doubt
Rather than the creator of fascination and amazement
We have sullied the atomic bomb
Time for us to bring up our arms in rebarbative rebellion