Have you ever didn't remember Win 7 administration password? If so, then it's very annoying and irritating. This is often a avoidable problem a lot of the customers find. However, don't worry you will find plenty of solutions with this particular. A lot of the customers, who didn't remember their password either, choose formatting their hard disk or operating their system, but it's not needed in lots of of cases to do something.

Well, you might find the password hint in your mind. Whenever you produced it you had been motivated to record an argument for example "Password=my birthday!" Whenever you now enter the wrong password at logon time then your phrase "Password= my birthday" can look immediately underneath the password prompt. Unless of course you're as old like me, this can help remind you the correct password is "your birthday".

You might attempt to totally reset password from command prompt:
Command Prompt: The command internet user *** abc w ill set the password for user *** to abc. You are able to only put it on a free account apart from your personal for those who have admin rights.
Also, you might attempt to stick to the below steps to totally reset windows 7 password:
Step One. Turn on laptop and set the windows Compact disc within the Compact disc ROM.
Step Two. Your screen will highlight the content for startup the Compact disc. Now, press any crucial for start startup.
Step Three. When the process will end up, your screen can have the setup all of which indicate the strategy is being looked over and files are loaded.
Step Four. After you are can comprehend the message about welcoming within the fix screen then press ENTER key to begin.
Step Five. Now press F8 for accepting the license contracts.
Step Six. Now your screen create provides you with several choices, choose repair option.
Step 7. When the repair will begin, it will require a very long time because disk has been underneath the technique of checking, set up files are replicated.
Step 8. Restarting is essential in case your technique of copying files is finished. It'll start itself as well as have the ability to the progress bar on screen. It should take nearly only a couple of seconds.
Step 9. Please be aware that don't make mistake of pressing any type in between restarting process as well the Compact disc again. When restarting will most likely be achieved, screen will instantly show the conventional billboard screen and you'll watch that setting up home windows will be outlined.
Step 10. Press Change F9 after you will notice the unit progress bar for that extreme left side from the screen. ALAS! This is actually the security hole. Now, command console will probably be opened up for you and could provides you with the chance to achieve much of your entire body.
Step 11. Type NUSRMGR.CPL inside the prompt then you'll wish to press ENTER. Immediately, after entering you're getting access of user accounts in the control sections.
Step 12. Now, simply choose the account you will need to modify the password or get rid of the password whoever you hire to consider is way better for you. If you want to take away the password then enter control userpassword2 and select the chance for logging into sites without password. Now, close the home windows and exit out of your command box and keep using your projects of repairing.
Step 13. Whenever your repair is finished, you'll be able to login pc together with your new password or without password, pick one you've preferred.

After reading through the above mentioned lengthy instructions regarding how to admin password, would you understand? Or are you able to do Windows 7 reset password with no problem? If no, It is best to make reference to professional windows Password Recovery Tool!
Source from:http://www.passwordunlocker.com/knowledge/reset-windows-7-password.html

The Stanford **** Case
Statement from the Young Woman Who Was *****
June 10, 2016 | Revolution Newspaper | revcom.us

Editors Note: The following harrowing and courageous "victim impact" statement was read in court by the woman who was assaulted and ***** by ex-Stanford student Brock Turner. It has been released widely and revcom.us is reposting it here. As Sunsara Taylor said in "The Stanford **** Outrage: Reason Enough to Make Revolution": "Her letter is 13 pages long and everyone should read it. In its entirety. Out loud. In classrooms. In church groups. In families. On sports teams. On air. Her pain must be seen. Her battle against despair must be supported. Her courage must be multiplied."*
-------------------------------------------

Your Honor, if it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.
You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today.

On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends.

Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.

The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party.

When I was finally allowed to use the rest room, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my ****** and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.

Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.

I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “**** Victim” and I thought something has really happened.

My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my ****** and ****, needles for shots, pills, had a Nikon pointed right into my *******. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my ****** smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.

After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.

On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for *** because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs and I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.

My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweatsuit, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my ****** was sore and had become a strange, dark colour from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours in silence my younger sister held me.
My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find [my sister]. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.

I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been ***** behind a dumpster, but I don’t know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn’t real.
I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone.

After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For over a week after the incident, I didn’t get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn’t just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer.

One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair dishevelled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was **** naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognise.

This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me, this can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.

It’s like if you were to read an article where a car was hit, and found dented, in a ditch. But maybe the car enjoyed being hit. Maybe the other car didn’t mean to hit it, just bump it up a little bit. Cars get in accidents all the time, people aren’t always paying attention, can we really say who’s at fault.

And then, at the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own ****** assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extracurriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened.
The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up.

The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a line-up, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know.

He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me.

Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue. The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub.

Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us even speaking, a back rub. One more time, in public news, I learned that my *** and ****** were completely exposed outside, my ******* had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an ***** freshman was ******* my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.

I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful lawyer, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this ****** assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused.

I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly *****, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.

When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. His lawyer constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.

Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his lawyer saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn’t notice any abrasions, right?

This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The ****** assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering questions like:
How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside?

Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What colour was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, well, we’ll let Brock fill it in.

I was pommeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who had me half naked before even bothering to ask for my name. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he’s like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now.

And then it came time for him to testify and I learned what it meant to be revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn’t know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn’t feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.

So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.

He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the cl

and in my "hiatus" period of absence, circa 15th of April and 15th of December (minutes from a yesterday)... i've come to regret the Russians not having any... no... rather the bare minimum of orthography... surprise surprise! there's plenty to choose from! i had to return to a time when i was drilling greek into my head... naturally: a time for cyrillic was on the horizon... but... i couldn't do it with english alone... i need my mother tongue, a tongue that employs diacritical markers... again and again: english can do away with its j... it goes missing when raised to stand from a sitting position ȷ(J)... and it can cut the head off its I(standing)... ı(sitting)... to make an emphasis... i have been busy... drinking aside, have a look where i have been for the past... april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december:

ź = зь and ż = зъ

i'm drinking - and i am my most content - the world burns and goes about its usual wordly theatre... i'm huddling with a cameo role in the background... i am drinking content... my 3rd or 4th rejection letter! this time from : austin macauley publishers (london, cambridge, new york - sharjah - where the **** is sharjah?!) - i remember sending them a "manuscript" and a book already printed, bound... they said it would take them 6 weeks to reply... i didn't enclose an email address... i had to wait for the snailmail... my my... what lovely handwritting of my name and address... in the letter i did state: it's e(sch)lert... she omitted the (sch)... a rebecca crib admin assistant, of the editorial... 6 weeks though... hmm... i posted the letter and manuscript and the book way back prior to visiting my grandparents... circa 8th of september... it's a rejection letter... that much is true... but i'm drinking in celebration! i was making dinner in the afternoon and was asked: why are you so angry? i wasn't... i tried to figure out what i'd feel when enough of ms. amber was in me... i replied: i'm being apathetic... but now it's clear: i'm jovial! there's even a signature! an authentic signature... in all honesty... a rejection letter means something... if it is physically mailed... of course i'm celebrating! i exist! i exist outside the realm of getting spam snail-mail! of course i will reply... i'll tell them: destroy and recycle the manuscript - it really wasn't a manuscript to begin with... i pour my "efforts" on the manuscript canvas that's the html... but the already printed book? can you please not burn in... rather... keep it? i'd appreciate no 1933 Säuberung... and you know (kind reader) - i'll send this introspection to the same publisher... like it is... pop / pulp or whatever mongerel of style this has had to be... but a reply! i want to see how one might escape formal language, formal affairs, social affairs, esp. in letters - a dear ms. X / to whomever it might concern Y... kind regards / yours faithfuly Mr. Z... this has to be celebrated... given what's on the horizon... the norwegian novel viking a'comin'! the buldozer autobiography... the demand for a "death" of fiction... otherwise i'm still "here"... a "here" that truly is so distant that its distance allows my petty leeching and the world's grand fiasco theater of fire and smoke and mirrors! - after all... i'm not mad enough to be welcome to a cage if i'm a sparrow... a cage of rhyme, form and all those shackle devices / identifiers of "poetry"... the future is narrative... and the current narrative says? if you asked me to dress proper, for an opera... to don the shirt the tux and the bow (tie)... the well ironed trousers... perhaps... beside the point: air's in the head and i just wish i could heat it up... for a baloon of quasi-egoism effect... otherwise what is there... a former journalist becomes an isolationist essay-scribbler? all the best journalists retire from the profession and become essayists... polemicists... whatever... this "poet" says: no poet ever writes a novel... the real life is too fictive already... and most certain this "poet" adds: begone! lyricism and rhyme! i'll sing like the humming drone cleric of the hive of ambient refrigerator sounds at 2am when everything is sleeping...

capital: oh... so that's what it was... back circa 1990 - when inflation of currency was rife all over Poland? that's when foreign capital was flowing in: foreign money... the economy was flooded with pounds and dollars... and given the exchange rate: i remember a time when you could get circa 7zł for every 1 £ sterling... so why would a nation start to print its own money? well... because more foreign money is coming in - at the given exchange rate: apologies: i was born yesterday - i need to explain certain things, from scratch... as was once stated - there's only a finite amount of money in circulation... physical money... "apparently"... and no... if you were to materialise all the wealth in this world into either fiat or gold: there wouldn't be enough of it... but how else would inflation happen in a country like Poland circa 1992? foreign investement: the wild west of eastern europe when the soviet barricade fell... i do remember being asked a question as a child: which is more... these copper coins... or this piece of paper? on the piece of paper was written 5, 000, 000zł - i said the copper coins... i wasn't either right or wrong - the person asking the question laughed... i don't think it was a question of: there are more copper coins in the hand... than a single piece of paper... after all... perhaps i acted all trans-****-sapiens and became chimp and saw less zeros on the copper coins than on the piece of paper? how else does does a currency inflate - when foreign currency is poured into it... it's the opposite of foreign aid... you put £1 into an economy - with an exchange rate: currently you'd get circa 4, 50zł out of... so where is all this "excess" money to come from? the moment when foreign money is invested... is the moment you have to start printing your own money... imagine... if the word BLACK was worth more than CZERŃ (чернь): oh, we'd readily translate BLACK = CZERŃ... but we also need a sentence for that "to make sense"... and there i was... thinking that russian doesn't apply diacritical markers... oh... right... they're not as discrete with accents like some of us... notably? нь = ń... and so and likewise... wait wait... źródło (source)... in russian it would look, look: oh so ugly... зьрoьд-ł-ł-o... (wh)en (wh(en) but now i know this (w)oe: the soft sign (acute)... and the hard sign for... e.g. życzenia (wishes)... зъыченя (perhaps зъычениa) - point being: ź = зь and ż = зъ... now does language come to me...it never left me... but now ai appreciate the minor details... i see the english and their language and how they speak it... how they churn out metaphysics and how they call forthe help of **** similis to give history the rusty coating of: nothing between a today and tomorrow: there's only the hanging off a tree from a a tail that the chimpanze doesn't thave... everything is so very metaphysical: it's never orthographic! тe два: tak - тe: оба (there's a wikipedia mistake... U+0411 / U+0431... not o'bah... oo'b'ah...): щекaць: szczekać! to bark... eh... greek became too rigid... i could remember all the letters... always buckling on ζ (zETA) and ξ (11), upsilon (υ) and nu-nu-nu (ν)... and this is, practically nonsense to anyone with a base literacy knowledge... to exagerrate... who does mind such pedantic pleasures... when they could be somewhere else: skiing! but it's worthwhile to know how a nation's currency can be inflated... foreign money flows into the country - and whatever the exchange rate is... there is no such thing as a "grafitti compensation": then again, there is... perhaps literacy has been inflated... inflated for a second literacy of coding to be assured? otherwise? bypassing the orthodox print... bypassing orthodox editorial scrutiny... was... "nice"... until the moment when the mediator sought to see fit that the reader had more authority over the written word: having re(a)d it - over the person who had / has: written it! we do part our ways with the russians on the "debate" concerning the "cedilla" involving A(ą) and E(ę)... cedilla: yes yes... akin to garçon - waiter! waiter! please - that greek sigma at the end of a word: and all its ασπεκτς... aσpectς - that really is an orthographic statement... only Ssssssss'igma is a letter with "three dimensions" suited for it... a handwritten element... otherwise in the news this week? the apostrophe society is no more... like when you don't put a possessive article if the thing in "question" ends with an S, in english? e.g.? the colours' (sez sirs - alt. colours's sez sirs... ses-esses) imbued harmony... and that is a possesive article, isn't it? with an apostrophe: 's? it's not a plural identification - there would be no need for the apostrophe to begin with! pounds' worth: no... not a pound's worth - the worth of a pound... pounds' worth: the worth of pounds! - what's that german word... glücke! nein nein... etymological root: glück 'luck' (etymology is the new history... it bypasses journalism and serves some journalistic cousin that's powdered in dust of cremated bookworms) - and yes, a hypen can come to the fore: after a full-stop and the opening of a new sentence with a conjugation: - with disbelief / - and!

i'm not buying how the media narrative will turn Cymru into a "K-affair"... sim sim: similie or else... but these have been my greek buckles: ξ (oh... that's why i wrote 11... XI - ksi...) - it's rare to see ξ sometimes: esp. in philosophy books... rubric!

- ζ
- ν
- υ (i can be forgiven, these two letters
are not suited for print... unless working
with a microscope) - unlike a roman Vv...
- ξ

but this is just the greek... if you ever read some modern... you'd think: and i just don't know, where they get their ideas from - with all those diacritical excesses that heidegger notes...

but now... for my cyrillic mini-adventure:

from Miньsk (Mazowieцki): with love

it might be said, that if i just the bare minimum -
if i even do not write anything at all -
but i have too many petty griefs during the day
to much else than the odd, occasional chore;
at the same time i do not want to sound
amused, bewildered, bored or un-used...
it's just that i find writing and drinking before
falling to my 343rd death -
my 343rd labour for mask and then exfoliated
in a dream: that might come...
or might not come...
unless a known audience... a wake sized nieche
privy... i find either unconscious or subconscious
struggles to warm up to an anonymous crowrd...
unless it was me being propped up on stage...
flooded by light... and the audience in the din:
with barely a shadow to scratch...
perhaps: then and only then...
but i've found that: it would be best that i sentence
the 2hs spare i have for merely drinking
and loitering from one video to another:
perchance something new in music is to emerge...
"coquettish" with a "something" that will never
have any realism-focus for me to undertake
a second's day carnality of the banal...
perhaps all this: "going out of my own way"
has been too much - or just enough...
to make me drink more and take more pharma
knock-out enzymes...
a naproxen and an amitriptyline...
perhaps the focus was elsewhere...
to stand frozen in awe...
when someone might "add": from one big void:
ex nihil a priori to... nihil a posteriori...
and all this cameo theatre in between!
mein gott... i can also convene to praise those
brutal breeders of sorts...
enough time to occupy two decades...
perhaps even three...
and then the grim reality of: should my child
die... or... some other worse:
the mortal should not be inflicted by...
"not reading into the genetic clues": properly:
"all at once"...
oh i would be so much happier to take this mind to sleep:
to not make some idle focus -
to entertain some eyes while i turn aside all things
hyper-inflated in purpose...
to die of a heart-attack in one's sleep...
but otherwise to simply focus on a welcome tomorrow...
that would be...
a gracious beginning to posit the day's slouching
zenith... or... i'm not sure whether this be a coming
zenith or a nadir...
but there's still that clear-cutting focus
regarding russian orthography...
cutting it with two tongues... slit at the tip...
with english the "placebo": no diacritical markers evident...
well: a TILDE over a ȷ is no more necessary...
than a "tittle" (not thai-tle... ty'ttle) over an ı...
to borrow the greek phrase: cut one head of hydra -
two emerge... cut the two heads...
i come toward the russian mish-mash of diacritical
application...
it's not be-au-ti-ful... it's messy... it's what it is...
but already i can see what this: cutting off the heads
of the english j-i hydra looks like...
it's not enough to simply enlarge them to state: CAP(I)TAL-(J)...
the knitty-gritty... why then the tilde atop of 'em?
prior "corrections": łen and when...
is not akin to... wrak or wreck... although these two words
have the same meaning...
unless: "partisan" V comes in...
very - weary... Cracow or Krakov?
a W = a Ł = a W = a V ≠ a Ł...
Ęwa and Ądam (e nosinė) are not covered by
Russian orthography...
the list is as follows:
ż (зъ) and... ć (ць), ń (нь), ó (oь), ś (сь), ź (зь)...
the graphemes? i'll call them graphemes for simplicity...
even though: they're not the smallests units...
as are vowels... or the syllables of consonants
in the latin choir of B'ee, C'ee... e'M... etc.
ж alternatively RZ (Ż) or Ž... otherwise the fwench:
je (suis)... this is nothing more than...
an encyclopedic evaluation...
a trainwreck proposal of: should i ever be stuck in
in russia... and i would have to: read... (ee'd - r'ah)...
chop off a TILDE off the torso of the english:  ȷ...
a crescent moon lying back emerges in the russian... й...
but it's not the english: jeep! it's an english: yeep!
or a  ȷeep! alternatively: yawn could be:  ȷawn...
but not if: it's jaws... coming into play: to chatter from
the siberian cold... how else to explain?
if not by... example?
then there's the "exploration" of the greek F...
as much as in english...
фoughts on θilosoφy...
good to know the russians only "borrowed"
one of the greek Fs... "culturally appropriated" or...
wasn't St. Cyrill born a greek?!
and away from greek we move...
since χ (chi): yep: perpleX... a Ks to a Ts
(note, revision found below)...
otherwise hidden... in non-vowel binding consonants...
like... ч- and -х (although... that's not quiet a Ch-ur-hC -
but sure... some altar for siц and... no... no siPS)...
cholera! which is not: SHow me the CHow mein...
for that we need CARONs...
that's when ч becomes CZ (in polish) or otherwise:
Č... long have i wanted the polish to adopt this version...
to hide the SZ and the CZ (es'zed, х'zed) respectively...
how else to write: szczekam?
a russian would write... щекaм...
out of a "simple" ш out pops out a щ (this letter...
is probably the only "etymological" route to bind russian
to the oddities of Ęva and Ądam (e nosinė)...
ш (š) becomes щ (šč) -
whoever was to undermine the old rules
of engagement when the ruling parties gave up
a monolopy of literacy? you can literally hide an entire
letter / meaning by using a hachek...
hook...
as i begin to wonder:
how much did the slavic tribes "appropriate" greek...
and how much did the two greek saints...
try to make sense of the slavic glagolitic script?
em... Ⱋ looks pretty intact if you cut off the body... E:
reclining...
but i do come from the western lands of the eastern
lands... hence? hardly any cyrilic influence...
but i too: with my own oddities... already mentioned...
come to think of it? the bulgars joined
the "party"?
beside that? what other, russian"oddities"?
orthographic - i.e. aesthetic dictations / rubrics...
ю really is a я... the russians have this english tendency
to stress their pronouns...
i this... i that! i walked up a street! and kicked a black
cat 13 times down the street to ease my luck!
you can talk in polish for days... and never stress the I / я
pronoun... really...
and ю is just a variation of я...
throw in the remaining vowels and you'd probably
come up with some "new" russian letters...
like ye... good point... i did make a "mistake"...
щэкaм! i'm barking!
unless... that's only an orthographic question...
notably? if you're going to: zerkać...
peer in / at "on and off"... casually...
зэркaць... em... it must be an orthographic question...
ergo? i wasn't exactly "wrong"...
just bad taste... зeркaць...
i've already shown the difference between (ъ) and (ь)
in a latin script: that uses more diacritical markers
than english "supposedly" escapes with focusing
on the rather pointless TILDE over the J and I...
this "oddity": ы... ɨ  clearly it's not exactly a ł...
minor details... like a mona lisa smiling...
best example of close proximity?
take a... no... that's a hollowed out "why"...
i know how it sounds... and there are no diacritical marks
needed for it... since there's a clear distinction
that i know of, between: I J Y...
tY... this little sucker is born from the fact that...
western slavs have a name for this letter...
iGREK... funny... the russians borrow more greek lettes...
and have to have...
ё (yo), e (ye), у (which they treat like a greek would U -
never mind the greeks themselves
making the following ref. Υγ / Γυ) -
and of course the я (ya)... so no wonder i see this
"letter" (ы) as an absolutely oddity...
i could stomach: ż (зъ) and ź (зь) differences...
well that's as far as i would come in learning russian...
spot the odd ones out... proper...
й (j) and ё... which is some german loan vowel with
that ******* umlaut... otherwise...
this poo'em was born from trying to **** the english
hydra of "orthography", with its mighty bounty
of the ȷ-ı TILDE! my my... what a ride!
come to think of it... now i think i can sleep.
- it hasn't been such a waste of an hour... drilling this in:
into my head...
after all... what did the professional clarinet player
say then asked about playing professionally
in a travelling orchestra? after 30 ******* years of
blowing hard into this thing...
guess what i still end up doing?
it's not so much learning... i'm still practising!

because this will not end like some sort of "summary"...
i will remember each letter if i weave it into
this latin letter by letter...

the refleξive (x)
in that one might have χeated (ch) -
again!
what it is about an ξ-ray that is also an
"χ"-ray? the "ex" k'ss k'ss cuss...
is this what james joyce's finnegans wake
should have looked like?
again!
the cruξ of the matter...
whenever a question was to be raised about:
any χoice to be had...

i have come to grips with russian orthography...
i'll repeat... the crescent moon over и ("e")
to state: this must be elongated: й ("y") stands outs...

best examples are given by sports commentators,
notably in ski jumping...
suffiξes of surnames...
akin to -cki endings...
yes... you're seeing what i'm seeing...
we'll need some russians to work this one
out... how a C is not an S...
and how it's not KK either...
-цки... hello wet drum-kit snare!

of course not: you're not seeing N:И...
let alone: нaйт (night...
evidently -igh- is a bit complicated...
with ref. to the surd in knight - kappa and
the gamma and the ha ha ha ha tetragrammaton
left arm... vowel catcher i'd be most inclined
to borrow from the hebrews...
whenever they're not busy actually using it...
and not being a bunch of 'ebrews -
electronic brewing of tea?)
сo дaрк (so dark)...

which is the equivalent of writting english
grafitti "backward"... how it sounds...
and not for: what's the formality?
i figured: take the small steps, the trickle...
burn the eyes out with incremental poppy-seed
acts of progress... like the grand Pilgrim Emeryk
from the Świętokrzyski region of Poland
(holy cross)...
each year the pilgrim shuffles to the top of
the mountain with a speed of:
a poppy-seed's worth of distance each year...
by the time he reaches the top of the mountain:
the end of the world will arrive...

am i the next Delmore Schwatrz?
no... i don't have a Lou Reed to contend with...
am i obsessed with Finnegans Wake?
well i didn't spot any "additions" to the letters...
i didn't see any diacritical markers...
a book that shouldn't be translated since...
it ignores... a worthwhile mention
of the concept of orthography -
which is my escape from any western vogue
of metaphysics... i hide behind the omniscient
niqab of orthography... my face can be forever
hidden... but my eyes need to be on... fire!
fire! i want you to burn!

so i went to see the russians having
left the greeks... about any "nuance" bound
to the... ****-naked english language
with its magic act of the disappearing heads
off of J and I...
as you do... you "forget them" and also have to:
somehow "remember" them to be used...

do i still enjoy drinking and listening to
teutonic chants in german?
god almighty! when wouldn't i not listen to german
medieval music... when drinking?!
is that such a terrible sin?

also? i finished the trilogy of H. Sienkiewicz...
and i read some Boris Pasternak...
there was Nietzsche in polish - paul's leash said:
he's more bearable in this language,
than in english...
and how could i forget! there was...
Knausgård... Karl, Ove... volumes 1 and 2
of mein kampf...

now a "summary": hmm... ż (зъ) and... ć (ць)...
could... now... hard sign (ъ) is not exactly worth
ascription if... or rarther: because...
you don't treat a caron over an S or a C...
to "hide the english H" or the Aesti Z when coupled...
there's no need to write чъ... since?
that's pretty much in-itself given č of the nature
of чeap...
ć / ць is different in that... you'd have to hear
it first...
however... the one exception of this "rule" is already
self-enclosed in ж... which is зъ... somehow...
but not зь... examples?

жart / зъart... żart (joke)...
зьrebi... well there's no 'ę' in russian
to name: źrebię - mustang colt...
is there?
so... i was "wrong"...
in that ź = зь and ż = зъ is true...
but? ź = зь and ż = зъ = ж...
so from a "quiet unique" perspective...
and: mein gott! who's to see, travel,
and subsequently marvel at the pyramids of giza...
i'm a different version of what's
considered to be "tourism"...

give me this sole equation:
ź = зь and ż = зъ = ж
and i'll be happy for a month.
as i have been...

oh i'm back... and things have taken
SPEC-TAC-U-LAR turns and twists!
****-naked english over 'ere is gonna make
a chariots of fire runner...
i bet it will... when it comes against a juggernaut
like me.

Before corona, nursing homes residents were being killed,
naked elderly lying in hallways unattended to for hours,
staff watching as resident says they will get out of bed,
can't and does anyway only to fall straight to the floor,
medications being placed on the floor before being put into
resident pill caddy dispensers, medications being put into
resident drinks then those drinks given to other patients,
food trays delivered on he laps of residents, so staff can do
two things at once, for other residents, food trays dispensed
from a few inches off the ground food tray carriers so
pestilence must get into food, staff continually not doing
their jobs or abusing, lying about residents in any way they
can think of, medical staff purposely lying to and not
treating residents, on and on, residents not being allowed to
see outside doctors in order to actually get treated, staff
physically abusing residents during medical treatments as
retaliation for complaining, medical treatments and drugs
ordered by doctors not administered.  For the N.H. makes
most it's $ on intake and when the resident leaves, so staff's
job, to **** them as quickly as possible to increase turnover.

So covid's also a cover-up of that.  Like before pandemic,
Nursing Home residents, and now staff, are genocided,
42 % of all virus fatalities occur there.  This is also a
Hitlerian eugenics program.  Also healthcare facilities, meat,
poultry packing plants, prisons, densely packed businesses,
are concentration camps, workers are forced to work, catch
covid, give it to others, die, our schools are the same now,
genocide of kids and staff, all for ****'s re-election effort.
For, still, the purposeful non-use of the DPA by **** of
Utin, not nationalizing the manufacture, distribution of PPEs,
good testing, which would save taxpayers 100's of billions of
dollars overspent now on gouged prices, 100's of thousands
of their lives, continues, as he preaches his 'covid schmovid'
policies at his super-spreader of disease rallies, murdering
repubs.  Yet, again, ****'s Admin. is trying to steal food
from the mouths of babes and give it to billionaires, cutting
food-stamps, S.S., giving handouts to wealthy.  Now, Utin's
****, head of the republican bi-polar global conspiracy of
unpowers that unbe, is paying Utin, head of the totalitarian
conspiracy and the global oligarchy, with Russia's inclusion

in the G7, etc., for Utin's paying bounties to Taliban to ****
our military.  Grandpa, dad, brother, son, all military except
me, a military family, can't believe ****'s such a traitor,
instead of a Commander-In-Chief.  Every minute another
citizen perishes from pandemic needlessly, why? Why in this
land of American dreaming, where we put men on the moon,
have Space Forces, are we not able to mass-manufacture,
distribute masks and to accurate testing to limit the spread
of virus?  How can our businessmen, politicians not solve
this now?  "...We(e),...", can't beg, must we in 2020?  Also,
the 'Bob Woodward interviews' with **** prove he knew
about how serious covid-19 would be in 2-20, and said the
opposite to staff, country. He calls our military "suckers",
"losers", he called John McCain "not a hero".  Recent reports
by our intelligence community, FBI, reveal that Heir Mueller
should've declared that the **** international crime family
"had colluded in the Russian conspiracy to steal the election
of 2016 for him", that, "Heir Mueller failed to follow the $
trail of ****'s, which would have proven him and his crime
family did many more crimes than were investigated", that

"Russia's doing the same, and will worse, now, during the
rest of the election cycle and the **** Admin. is not just
doing nothing to stop Russia, they're actually aiding the
hacking of this election".  His niece, Mary Trump has stated
that, "all of what the public knows about him and his
failings is accurate, and he's even much worse".  He's been
keeping security, other Gov't staff at his hotels for months
straight, even when he's not there at the cost of 100's of
millions of your tax dollars.  More victims of his **** and
****** assault history are coming forward to report those
crimes against them.  He invited the Taliban to have a Gov't
Summit at Camp David right before the 18 th anniversary of
the attacks on 9-11-01, that were purposely not prevented by
king george and his ****, cheney, like **** purposely didn't
prevent the corona virus from becoming a pandemic here, it
was canceled by his staff at the last minute.  He just said,
upon hearing we've over 200,000 dead from covid, and over
6 million cases, that, "we should test less, then we'd have
less cases, we're doing fine, the end of corona's just around
the corner.", while he effectively does little to less.

Now, the deaths top 230,000 and over 7 million cases, we've
4 % of the world's population, yet, 25 % of virus cases, why?
**** just told the country a week ago, he "may not accept
the outcome of our elections in a month, 'cause mail in ballots
are a scam, if he losses, election was rigged by democrats".
His admin. are already talking to States where republicans
control the State Legislature and can choose to dispense with
the popular vote by replacing it with a set of electors they've
chosen in advance, and will say "they represent the will of
the people, instead of the elections results".  He also has
threatened that "there will be violence in the streets if he
doesn't win", etc..  The candidates for President just had their
first debate, a one ring circus, made so by the carnival barker,
****.  He refused to follow rules, continually interrupted
Biden, pathologically lied as usual.  'Time is longer than twine',
and 'to err is human, to forgive, divine'.  It's unforgiveable,
n'er forgettable.  Joe's not only persisting in reminding our
nation who "..we(e),.." are and can be, also that we're citizens
of a great Union. Inspiring, Biden's campaign rises, uplifts.
We all can, must stop this madness now, vote early, GOTV.

Red Red Red Red-of-the-Media Blitz
because it does not look like a change
is to be the means of this thing; Artistic arts, they help;         So that Brown
is behind the wall;                          Barbie is something
new,                                                   ­            something new and powerful is
in the air; the following are hot hot peas:
The extensions of the glass glass glass,
so it checks them;                                        The article read from
my eyes were blind to Russian Alchemy
in the bright red sea;                    an announcement
from the windows lacquered to do all
from local kitchens,                      trips to sites from year to year
to burn the more results you received
that you find in your memory of Lauren
the prophet;       Moreover,                       there is a serious error;
Rainbow worn platforms but Robotic and
caring, with a piece of cake;          cooking is only
the interpretation of the beast in a different
way, The artist is the artist upstairs:     Wonderful.
Red is red, the reddish-colored redhead
of anonymity as a result of the differences
appearing on the shadow with the help of
action, taking photos of Asia;                    kissing
the fence, come let Barbie's secret lady
be brown and gay;           The intensity of energy
is manifested in the air;                         the music
wants glass glass that is sweet world
positioning her hole, glass summer,        summer
of historical rock.              These brain-changing
emotions are correcting sensitive words
that hit the blind spot and blind the body
of your admin;                                          a ******'s ******'s ****** alchemy,
pink Russian windows,                                                    full-­size lacquered
windows,                                                       tuxedo sand washing sandwich
society understood as a tourist's tourist company,
a yearly tourist company;          Modern science's
knowledge is unknown to the perfect
memorial tomb that prophesied prophetically
dancing, dancing angels; angel dancing,              cooking meals,
robotics noodles, noodles,                                  cooking noodles
too sit in the strange spot of the favorite top
of life's beautiful musical eyebrows.
Red Red Red Red-of-the-Media Blitz,
1 do not want this difference;
Work is needed, assistance;                                              I'm not
Brown Barbie,                                       she is hidden behind the
screen,                                      especially during warm weather,
peeled,                                           Checking of the crystal glass
and mirrors glass they read a book 1;
face it;                                                          Alch­emy is now blind in Russia,
the Red version's version lacquered;
It has been received from Portfolios
in recent years,                       who had recently been
in the kitchen of the journey rather
than as they knew him,                                                 in many cases
are the acts of your people:                                                 Memory's
Prophet Lauren;                                                        Th­ere is no male
to persuade the developer now,
so it's all I will look at;                                                          an error
of Privatization,                                                   ­           Suddenly the balcony
is a loaf of bread this knife is cutting;
customized techno music is an umbrella ....
Red is red,                                                 the red-colored redhead of widgets
as a result of variations appears on the shadow
with the help of action,              she made photos of Asia;
facing the fence,                      let's make Barbie Brown's
brand new stuff his wife;                                                  Power consumption
has been revealed in the air;                               the song;
Wants a glass of glass that is a happy place
heat heat pitch, position rocky rock.
     These medications,              emotions adjust the text,
            matters read the blind eyes dark body
  your admin is a ****** and ******'s alchemy
is pink Russian windows;                    full-size lacquer
window's tuxedo sand washed sandwiches
of society;                                    Understand one-year tourist
attractions and tourist sites of Modern technology;
science's knowledge is pure ignorance of the memorial tomb
that he prophesied,                  |      prophesied in a prophetic,
angelic animation
eating angles, cooking meals,                    robotics, noodles,
noodles,                                         cooking noodles while sitting in a favored
foreign site,                                              the top of the beautiful artist's face.

Sits there weeping swept eyes
Rose red ire and sin
Stark nightcrawler within

Button push, does, don't
White lights flood both
Swept eyes, love notes

You've got a problem...

No news, no use
Arm's already at it
Echoes in the attic

Stirs smoke, can't choke
Won't know till she's home
But she's not coming back

In between the screens
the typing keys,
the (gradient) lines,
the buzzing phones,
there is
        peace
        space
        silence.

What I should have said
when Mike Whittle died, was
what a mighty man he was,
though small in stature,
yeah, how he set the students’
minds on fire.
Instead I said
he always jabbed himself with insulin
while we were having lunch
and I said that this was a literary tradition
like Polonius being stabbed in the arras
and Mark Antony falling on his sword after Actium
before Octavian could get there ahead of him.
And then I said that Antony's lover Cleopatra died
when she arranged to be bitten on her ***** by an asp.
And I thought I was a smart *** by saying
don’t get confused and think she was bitten on her asp.
Well, Mike and I did laugh about literary allusions,
along with all that insulin and his pancreas,
during all of those immortal lunches.
But what I should have said was that students
worshiped him, and they said that
‘he gave me my love of learning’.
Mike, you mighty little giant.
And how I loved that you could laugh when the admin staff
tried to cut you down because they hate popularity so much.
Those blasts of laughter in your classes
frightened them and they thought you were
an iconoclast. Oh Mike.  I love you, just like all your students.
That's what I should have said about
the gifts you gave us all in
Learn, Love and Laughter 101.
This is your immortal epitaph.

Mike T Minehan

Since you guessed the Password on her Chat
And realised your Smooth Ring was the Key
Past Admin's notice the Prince on the Bat
Made promised Pretzels and let her Love be
Happily, miraculous Spheres you own
Which you found real Logins are just as base
Place it closer to you. And it was shown
Just how pillowy was her lone disgrace
Try to be yourself. These Guys on the fringe
Act on tattled theatres they do not know
Ever thinking they live Life on the binge
When all this time it was just for ****** show.
Continue your Chat. She deserves to talk
But make sure then you take her for a walk.

And head;  A woman needs proteins
and what we saw;       in accordance
with philosopher R., a life;       from
now on, Bob, But some of them;
Radio noise, virtual image;  Japan's
Light, He runs all OS; A Women's Right
Hand; It's fun;   What's 1 to do the same,
take office in India    Add enjoy the pill,
the selling price is a spy,   1 Our
customer wore hot socks;
We are too slow; drink in Asia;
And the nose, Screenshot:
He who is not an example,
about life, you can not;    Here
there's 1, but Christ, Bob,  and
effluvia groups;     There is no
discrimination in the morning;
This is one of the members,
the first of these is just lazy;
But Lauren's speedy oxygen,
in this case,   The thirst slaked;
do not run from April's mystery
of faith: Accessories and socks;
size small; Recently in Asia,
over the employees, and this is
what it is; a window for him,
Oh, my Holy Place! Glory of praise
and glory     In the magnificent ***!
And;                     A full of proteins;
and mistakes or, in accordance with
A philosophuss of life;   Bob, Bob,
Choose your radio,  Japan's Books
imagine a powerful voice,   Be more
pleasing in all OS's fun; And rely on
women and those in line to stop
       What this is   |  In India,         offices
are added to luxury; Padding of products,
customizing the detectors,          Moving
in socks;          We are sad;          in Asia;
And the screenshot:            For instance,
But the world is not here,
"I have some spouses of Christ,
and Bob" effluvia.edu;   is not
the difference is; This is one of the
ads, Entertainment on the first page:
But the pain is quickly Lauren
At this time, There is nothing outside
of a private license
Devices and socks;
a small; Recently in Asia,        staff,
whether it is so;               window 9;
Are they not lost?                   Disable options
Glory to God in the great
                                      and most accept him?

And; In full, proteins;
and mistakes or,               in accordance with
A philosophus of life;                     Bob, Bob
Choose your radio
Japan's Books imagine a powerful voice,
Be more happy in all OS's fun;
And rely on women and those
in line to stop What this is | In India,
offices are added to the luxury
of Padding products, customizing
the detectors, Moving in the socks;
We are sad; in Asia;
And the screenshot:
For example, But the world is not here,
"I have some spouses of Christ,
and Bob;     effluvia.edu; is not"
the difference is
This is one of the ads,
Entertainment on the first page:
But the pain, is fast Lauren
At this time, There is nothing
outside of a private license
Devices and socks; a small;
Recently in Asia, staff,
whether it is so; window 9;
Are they not lost?                 Disabled options
Glory to God in the great
                                         and most accept him?

to head, and; In full, the scan;
and the errors of the people: or, in accordance
From about life of a philosophus; Bob, Bob
Choose your radio
Japan is an Page quite strong
It is played,    in all things to the OS is given;
I am confident, however, among women,
and they are in the right, seeking to link
What is | In India, in addition to the job luxury
For free-time of the product, from the detectors,
Move to socks;
A sad; in Asia;
The screenshot:
For example,
But the world is not here
"I am the bride of Christ
and Bob;     effluvia of coal; disability,
a dream is a big difference,
Here is a list together;
Entertainment on the first page:
However,        there is no pain for Lauren
At this time,
There is nothing outside of the private wishes
to be allowed to
The socks on the device;
little recently in Asia, physicians,
whether it be so; 9 window;
Do not miss?    play action
In the glory of Allah's sizes,
and many more?

A woman is proteins,
and as is to be found,
according to the norm
according to the philosopher
a life; From now on,   Bob
some of them; Radio secures
virtual image; The light of Japan,
they had to flee,     and to all the
OS; women,        Thy right hand,
O Jehovah, unto me,
What am I to do,     the same
job in India;     Contact to enjoy
the Pall, sell at a price to a spy; I
Our customers wear warm socks;
We are too slow; this drinking
in Asia; At the feces Screenshot:
is an example for he who is not
of the life, you can; Here there's
1, but it's Bob's Christ, It burns
effluvia; There is no discrimination
in the morning; This is one of
the members; At first she looks
lazy; But  with Lauren's speed of
oxygen, In such cases, in my thirst
they gave, Not Running to solve
the Sixth mystery of faith;
the Application's in her sock,
she's small;         Recently in Asia
****; This is what it is,
her window;  Oh, my Holy Mass!
Glory praise and glory be
   to that magnificent ***!
Your self-esteem instance,  that a woman
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Decorations are up
hung from fishing wire,
fishing for good luck.

There’s Christmas on her neck
and as she stretches out in front of me
a wake of cinnamon decks the halls.

It remains and lingers,
falls away past nostrils and
turns to festive well-wishes.

The market is in full swing
wrapped up tight in large scarves,
like a low cut sling cradling the cold.

Winter has the streets in its hold,
the wind is sour, bitter to taste,
and punters, commuters, Asian lost-tourists walk in haste.

Shop floors are warmed by radiators
hung above their wide open doors:
let the heat out, let the customers in.

And when the mid-November light dims
and the council gets past the
everlasting electrical admin,

streetlamp sticks will light and spark,
sending effulgent embers down onto
the Cambridge cobbles.

Children will peer wide eyed into windows
remembering names for their lists,
hoping to unwrap them as gifts later on down the line.

Adults, some probable parents and others newly-wed together,
enjoy the festivities, the weather, the bespoke crafts
bought from Argos sold as Handmade Swedish Chairs

And do they care? No.
It’s Christmas in Cambridge and
winter is settling in.

the mood is the office was troubled that day.
On each other's nerves- they'd be hell to pay.
Someone brought in gummy bears in a big sack.
It all seemed so innocent until the attack.

The boss got it first; a gummy bear in the ear.
from his overworked minions it brought forth a cheer.
Then he and his partner got a hand in the sack.
There would be hell to pay as the empire struck back.

His aim was unerring as he spun to attack
there were gummy bears everywhere, being tossed fro and back
Poor Anita the admin got one stuck in her hair.
and some colorful critters were stuck under her chair.

The air was soon thick with those small gummy treats
(the five second rule was used for ones that we'd eat.)
All sense of decorum had vanished that day.
As ten 50 year olds got lost in their play.

It was very cathartic as you can imagine
as so called adults got to play with abandon.
The a truce was declared and we all felt contrition
because we had eaten all the ammunition.

The files can use a computer. 175/5964,                                   approximately
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you're so cool
because you got high
IN SCHOOL
your friends think you're fun
because you do stupid stuff
but really you're DUMB
who get's high during school?
an idiot, a dunce, a fool
why would you take that chance
admin is going to make you dance.

I won't be there for you,
Can't care for you,
My heart tears for you,
But I don't know where it lies,
Do you?

I'm not coming to lunch,
I'm not coming to dinner,
You won't see my face,
Nor anything inner,
I've made a new family,
From thread of a new spinner,
Our patchwork is of skin
We make brothers like we're kinners.

I won't share with you,
Can't be there with you,
This is all your issue,
Now you you want me at your side,
Wish you.

Wish that you had been,
Something of an admin,
Something of a book fiend,
Instead of just a cold wind,
Wish you had been anything,
That could have taught me how to win,
Or know this feeling from within,
Or teach me how to keep a friend.

But no.

You had to spend this 23 years figuring out how to get out of it.
23 years spent weeping and moaning every second that I ever doubted it.
Where's my rock? Where's my home? Where's the words I should have shouted?
I've got nothing. I'm alone. And you all just watched and ******* allowed it.

I have no brothers in my blood.
My sister to me linked by thread we've spun.
I have no interest in what was.
Gee, you're family sure looks fun.
I guess to you I'll run.
Cause with mine I'm ******* done.
And I'm sure I'll be the only one.

winds of change began to blow*
whirling in a different circulation
was the onset in alternate show
we did see its reverse oscillation

it would always be the same drift
in blew the current not familiar
inevitable this variable lilt's shift
instead of the ever so similar

the old guards twirl was replaced
timely this course of rotation
their admin's were all displaced
to permit substitute invocation

heaving with a breath of force
heralding another direction
how they did like this divorce
*haling the swing of inflection

Banners over us,
reminders of the first signed sigil waved
to mean something
to watching eyes,
fleets follow the highest flown flag,
designated leader, the kings sigil says so, so
as pledged, we go where the flag leads, then

just yesterday, I learned
of this ritual,
and I recalled the honor
of learning
to fold this flag.
This symbol,
for which it is noble
to die,
some do even dare
to teach this ritual to a select few,
fatherless, fearless, fungible future
first team something common sensitive.
exchange aitia cause for excuse
-- this world is folded implicitly, syllable
after
thump whump sigh,
a cough, to clear a lacquer of phlegm,
syllable, forming peace in time,
sit back, truth or dare,
do you believe in folded world symbols?

Have you a sacred flag? Final symbol showing
fungible duty done, paid in full.
Honor where honor is earned as endurance, that's all.

Endure to the end, making peace with childish
yous you meet at life's sharp end.

There was a committee who invented this ritual,
proud were those who fit the entire myth
true rest, freedom of thought, word, and deed,
in return,
fair and square, peace and safety and more meat
and milk than men should ever eat, but
what the hell, we won, we stole all their cows,…

pledged, initiated, used to abuse the worth of wrong
ideas… core right, correct, recht at once, stalility

ifity, wobbledy goop… did you learn this on your own?

"The first fold of our Flag is a symbol of life.

The second fold is a symbol
of our belief in eternal life.
{so the first must mean mortal life eh}

The third fold is made
in honor and remembrance
of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion
of their lives for the defense
of our country
to attain peace throughout the world.
{sounds fishy, attain peace, hmmm,
by being ready to give your own pound of flesh,
get some skin in the game.
Make up a mind that matches the imitation. }

The fourth fold represents our weaker nature;
{ I am not making this up}
for as American citizens trusting, GOD-
it is to Him {whom? wombed or un} we turn in times
of peace as
well as in time
of war
for His divine guidance.
{marching as to war…skip step stutter, cross this bridge}

-- meaning 4:
: a structural unit of a definable syntactic, semantic, or phonological category that consists of one or more linguistic elements (such as words, morphemes, or features) and that can occur as a component of a larger construction

From <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/constituent>

Enfold your flapping mind, in my world, school starts
in one week, and Grandma is in Idaho, with old friends.
The two tweens are radiating readiness, prepping
to not appear to be as weird as Grandpa,
but, still, knowing, least said,
soonest mended, wait to know what's next, fold
in silence… Our sample flag was earned on Iwo Jima,
where Don Wourms watched his basic buddy die.

"I did nothing right, I survived", me, too, echoing

The fifth fold is a tribute to our country,
for in the words of Stephen Decatur,
"Our Country, in dealing
with other countries
may she always be right;
but it is still our country, right or wrong."
{Yep, no lie, by sixth grade, 12th year on Earth,
there is the lie, regarding trust, duty, & honor.
Plato said Socrates said,
Guardians must be bred and nurtured, fed
the duty and honor, brother closer than friend,
teammate, rowers on the same bench,

boom}

The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie.
It is with our heart that we pledge allegiance
to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic
for which it stands, one Nation
under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice
for all.
-- 13 fold, 48 ply

There are series of numbers that mean nothing,
and sums that can find a link, a mental
tic take a thoughtmmmm
thirteen habits has the seedmmmmmhmm
thirteen folds in the star spangled banner.
thirteen stripes folded within blue heavensmmmhmmm
- unlucky number thirteen
- contentintensity semantic tic BAT

The seventh fold is a tribute {something owed whom?}
to our Armed Forces,
{The entire complex economic entity}
for it is through the Armed Forces that we
protect our country and our
flag
against all her enemies,
whether they are found within or
without the boundaries of our Republic.

{ be me, that boy, the one with the paper route.
selected to be the flag folder for fridays, 1960-
leading the class into a weekend of fun
being good citizens, stopping, looking, listening
marching for dimes and publisher's clearing house}

The eighth fold is a tribute {that's the word, you owe}
to the one who entered
into the valley of the shadow of death,
that we might see the light of
day, and

to honor mother, for whom it flies
on Mother's Day.

{fact check all you wish, this is the ritual,
it ain't a sacred secret, it's spiritual as hallowe'en}

The ninth fold is a tribute
to womanhood;
for it has been
through their faith, their love, loyalty
and devotion
that the
character
of the men and women
who have made this country great
has been molded.

{Dis try t' trump thet, patriophathemphatical, know 't all}

The tenth fold is a tribute {eh, patriot, pay the price}
to the father, for he too,
has given his sons and daughters
for the defense
of our country since
they were first born. {The children were sold}

{{}
- HONEST, chile, we sold you for goodness sakes
- you had to survive the learning
- to hold the knots of knowns left idle,
- as any oath unaccounted for,
- I swear, we swear some curses unawares,
- and those echo back as strangersmmm
- white noise sssorting questions
spark
The program that made the mind tools we use,
voltron, chess, appletalk space wars, in 1986,

very strange, the reappearing highschool connection,
very American looking, gamer aimed plots

dot to dot
seeing secret patterns, imagining inside the folded
weltanshaung squirrelled world, put away,
to be unfurled one fine daymmmm

blue skies, my friend. Finish the folds - 1960}


The eleventh fold, in the eyes
of a Hebrew citizen represents the lower portion
of the seal
of King David and King Solomon,
and glorifies
in their eyes,
the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The twelfth fold,
in the eyes
of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem
of eternity and glorifies,
in their eyes,
God the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit.
{I do feel like this bit of truth is
too strange to have known, are there rewards for this?
Is it a preboneman rite of passage,
done to become the meaning knower,
holder of the knack the leader of the fold team holds,
the knowledge as to why,
we do things right, or not at all.}

The thirteenth fold:
When the Flag is completely folded,
the stars are uppermost
reminding us
of our Nation's motto,
"In God We Trust."  {since 1956}
After the Flag is completely folded and tucked in,
it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat,
ever {riiight}
reminding us of the soldiers
who served
under
General George Washington,
and the Sailors and Marines
who served
under
Captain John Paul Jones,
who were followed
by their comrades and shipmates
in the Armed Forces
of the United States, preserving
for us the rights, privileges, and freedoms
we enjoy today.
{freedom of the press does belong to the one
who uses the common media - so far,
soo so good… this era in my sovereign real estate}

-- admin reviewed this, there are mental peace niks
planting confusion bombs on free way emergency
exits…
bass beats whump whump, feel it in y'teeth…

the vision in context fades… a final seal set
the teacher tells the disciple to carry the message
inside… know know
why you dare die for the story that formed your
child's mind. Look at your own kid, what you did.

BTDT. BTW, fold it up and put it away.

"The next time you see a Flag ceremony
honoring someone that has served our country,
either in the Armed
Forces or
in our civilian services such as
the Police Force or Fire Department,
keep in mind all the important
reasons behind each and every movement.
They have paid the ultimate sacrifice
for all of us by honoring our
Flag and our Country.

--- so did I blaspheme? I swear I had only
a boy's philosophy…

ping to 2021, hear my grand daughter prepping
for school in Descanso, listening to an audio book,
with the hero character a teen, mortal Apollo,

and the evil representative…
I listen, that immortal voice, Caligula's last mind
left in songs, sung as true, no lie

No lie,
passes untold, when in time, the implicit unfolds

and the edge dwellers, see jesus represented
in the widow's mites exchanged for motes
clanged
and sparked to say,

I know, who you think I am, my ad.
Click bait, fair fungible, win by a little tiny bit,
GO.

That is the game, three moves for each atom
in all we imagine our augmented eyes have seen.

AI do use the common store of knowns,
growing exponent opponent potentially ever
after
this…

for a while, why imagine hell was ever real?
as adjustments occur
to your way of seeing time as a whole truth
u u u ambig u u u is us ambigu is ous oy vwey
hayah hayah

Getting involved with the impurities
of ****** abuse; He has the symptoms
enumerated in the company
setting, the symptoms of a sexually
transmitted disease referred to
as soccer executing sick calumnies;
Other ****** activity that does foxy
at least sensors; The boy, lest you go
away no matter how small the red holes
In what must be because so long
as you stand in HD,
HD is to the words;
This is your grandson's grandchild
living in Japan since they do not care;
wherein; Layla 1 found in London,
saying Gulf Road, she went to the Health
Center Area marker in young children
Surgeons,   Helga's profit, but to them;
and they shall not find
The names of the girls?

And there was the one they build;
which learned, But the need;
for 53 is the same; The feline, If both
yellow and green,The flowers
make them sick;   And what choice
Optional option is too complicated,
six It is easy to walk spare parts
3-Mixed; Until clean water; White House:
The condition can not be good
When we have waited for the judge
to graduate St. John High School
in English; These words were
the mistakes the people of Allah make,
the cause of women,Taking the young men
and the children who are available
for those persons; the examples
of the examples of samples to the 42;

Get involved in ****** misconduct
****** abuse; Symptoms
is listed, you have gone to society
symptoms referred to as sexually
transmitted diseases carry out illnesses,
abuse, abuse, ill; ****** foxy Salome,
which brings it at least to the sensors;
Boy Do not Go Out as small as red;
The holes, which are suitable stand
as long as HD, HD word; This is yours
grandchild, in Japan not caring which;
Layla found me in London, saying;
Gulf Road, Health Center is set
in area Children are too young for titles,
Helga's title is useful for them and we find it;
but the sacred names of girls?

He built the ground; in which we learned;
but, lack of; 53 The same;    The feline,
If you bear witness; yellow and green,
the flowers make her sick; as an option
optional option, it is very complicated;
Six spare parts; It's easy to walk In this
3-female; Unfortunately,     pure water,
White House;        The good condition
is impossible when you look it for fun;
Judge from high school St. John
is English;    These are the men called
mistakes of the people;   floor, ground
for women,          young men and boys
who are available for them as samples
of samples, samples at 42;

for kids, conversations online
of evening evening with white people,
blogs, blogs; There are players
with depression;  Here's a fool
and Miss India from the Indus,
Many; Black black black Manuela,
All *** is necessary to be saved;
Join the six;   Six levels of the Chaldean
identity, our work and our opportunities
are important to the head; It's the same
as with the bridegroom; it makes red red,
brown slurping deep plate; Six days
for a baby to learn? Within 3 or 4 minutes
of wickedness, men lust after foolishness;
Including the fire of their wounds
with an attempt to delete what you lost

or kids' online conversations,
White and evening and night
newspapers, blogs; there
are players with depression;
This is a fool's Music and India
from Indian big youth, valleys;
Black black black; As for all the ***
and health of many important things;
The two had six degrees
Identity of deserting, our job
and our opportunities are
Of the great importance to the head
of the same as the bridegroom,
Red is red; Slurping the deep things
brown brown; In six children
to learn? In 3 or 4 minutes
when they understand what is fool
for the heart, the desire of the man
from the House with damaged wounds deleted by admin

There, when I feel my mind flooded with all this honesty
and like asking questions as we stare at data and can only see
details not the big picture and I think about things like why is it
that our school is below the state average in testing but it is so expensive it's upkeep
can't be afforded and we spend so much money on technology
but it's still below the state average and I know
you've told me that teachers moving around 3-4 times a day to different classes
prevents ownership by them but you haven't told me why this helps student learning
and now I hear admin says well in Japan the students just sit there and the teachers move
Japan?
And when I went to apply to the SPED program I told the professor I taught 70 kids in a double wide classroom and I had a microphone she looked at me like I was crazy
and so does everyone else I tell
But really, getting back to the first item, we spend so much money on technology but
the students score lower than the state average which is abysmal
It's like a fog has lifted and I never thought these things before

The Dems have taken back the House!
Hopefully, there now will be
For Donald Trump and his admin team
Some accountability.

For two years, Republicans
Have groveled before the man at the top,
Assisting him in obstructing justice.
The nonsense is going to have to stop.

The president's relationship
With the truth worsens every day.
Normal leaders would watch their step,
But his huge ego gets in his way.

Trump’s talking points, for instance,
At a recent Cabinet meeting
Were right out of Putin’s playbook--
Not worthy of even retweeting.

Well, now it’s about time
That members of Congress voice their concern.
Forget about being obsequious,
Mealy-mouthed or taciturn!

Now the American people will have
A House that really cares about them--
One that will fight for justice and also
Condemn that which it ought to condemn.

Many sworn into office today
Reflect diversity in their faces--
Mainly among the Democrats,
Who won highly competitive races.

Progressive change won’t be easy.
There’s STILL a storm that we have to weather:
Trump’s sycophants in the Senate--
Another story altogether.

The past two years have clearly shown us
What a horrible mess we're in.
Positive change will move us forward.
Let the oversight begin!

-by Bob B (1-3-19)