I am a physician.Last fall, I had a very interesting
conversation with a patient who is a trucker. I asked her if she knew
anything about deep underground military bases, and then I played ignorant
to see what she would say.

Without further prompting, she informed me she is an independent contractor
trucker, driving 18-wheeler rigs cross-country. She said the bases are real
and are located all over the country, "especially under the mountains out
West". She said one of her main contracts over the last few years has been
with DHS.

She said there are underground roads running all over the United States,
connecting the underground facilities.

She said she has personally delivered many truckloads of supplies to the
underground facilities. For each DHS shipment/delivery, there was a stack
of non-disclosure forms about (by her description) six inches thick she had
to sign.

DHS would attach a tracking device to her truck for each of these shipments
and monitor her truck's every move. She would be told where to go to accept
delivery for each shipment. In each case, she would be escorted by guards
"with machine guns" away from her truck, so she could not see what was
being loaded into her rig. The truck would then be locked by a large lock
with a ring 'as big around as your finger", which had to be torch-cut off
at the time of delivery.

When she would make deliveries, often within underground facilities, she
would again be escorted away from the truck by armed guards, the lock would
be cut off, and the goods would be unloaded.

She said the only shipped goods she ever saw in these DHS shipments were
stackable black plastic things that looked like coffins.

She told be the gov't is getting ready for a collapse, which she told be
she expected might happen as early as late 2014.

She also told me she thinks the gov't has just about everything is needs
stored underground, because the number of DHS shipments has been
declining.

I asked her if she would be willing to have lunch with me and tell me more.
She replied, "yes", but afterwards when I contacted her, she had changed
her mind and would not talk further about it with me.

Another pt of mine, whom I saw within about a week of this lady, is a local
trucker, but he told me that he has lots of friends who are truckers, and
through them, he said he had learned that there are "thousands of miles of
underground roads" running across the country, connecting underground gov't
facilities.

He had just recently, in fact, heard among his trucker friends of a
shipment of frozen meat being shipped to one such underground facility,
totaling four million pounds of meat.

[Hint - it's fun to read this one out loud :) ]*

Upon a crusty and spinning crag
Herbert's trusty craft did set,
Out beyond the path of Mars
In an asteroid belt they met.

Picked from out of thousands there
He selected a rocky home,
The perfect kind of rocky mass
To end his spacely roam.

First Ceres was too large and bold
And Pallas was too pale,
Old Vesta flew with sluggish wings
And Hygiea seemed too frail..

Ah, Sylvia seemed a likely rock
And her orbit seemed fine too,
But t'was Juno caught his eye at last
So what else could he do?

He sat his craft upon that rock
And loosed his robot throng,
Soon they mined and smelted ore
And built a structure strong.

That dome rose up with welded struts
To stand on a bright-lit plain,
The jewel-like panes filled out the place
O'er that kingdom he would reign.

Industrious 'bots and a stately home
So there did Herbert rule,
O'er a stark and rocky, lonely view
In the asteroid belt so cruel.

T'was far away to the nearest soul
No one to share Herb's tea,
To simply chat or share a bite
How lovely would that be?

Deep beneath old Juno's crust
'Bots mined for all their worth
Pulling out rare stuff and gems
And sending them to Earth.

But all the gold and diamond stones
Could hardly even start,
To fill the void that Herbert felt
Where he knew he kept a heart.

Yet, several rocky asteroids out
Across that rocky belt,
Another set upon her task
With ores and **** to melt.

Past Callisto and Iris zones
Where Cybele and Psyche spin
Fair Susanna tended Hektor's mines
Of silver, zinc and tin.

Now orbits often twist and dance
And trade with one another,
Where one boulder once was kin
There soon will be some other.

T'was thus that Herbert's Juno rock
Slowly made it's way,
To catch-up Susie's Hektor world
And shadow it one day.

Sue looked out her glass abode
To see what blocked the sun,
Then seeing Juno with its mines
A visit seemed like fun.

Toward a spot near Herbert's ship
Suzanna's came a-falling,
Imagine Herbert's bright surprise
Seeing visitors a-calling.

A shapely suit with bubble head
And jet-pack soon came floating,
To Herbert's door that afternoon
The sight had him emoting.

"Well hello there friend, and who are you
That to my rock comes knocking?"
"Just another miner fool
Whose sun your Juno's blocking"

"In just a little while, I'm sure
Our asteroids will part,
So why not stay a little while
And a friendship we can start?"

Double shipments soon they made
To send away to Earth
While their robots toiled each day
The sweethearts shared their mirth.

Great love did our Herb and Susie share
Built on those pleasant talks
And soon a tractor beam they fixed
Between their drifting rocks.

And still today in spacers' lore
They talk about that tether,
That linked two hearts among the rocks
Two asteroids bound together.

tailing off / trailing off poetry, or signature poetry prior sleep
is usually filled with too many prepositions,
and by being filled with too many prepositions
the prepositions tend to be repetitively used;
nonetheless, a study of language is provided,
not everyday you get to see language
in such quanta; yes, quanta, because
physicists will not get away with smartphones
by mystifying words with all those theories
in the subconscious working on the word idiot
consciously in argument with an antagonist;
well it would be hard not to express mystification
of a word in the standard vocabulary package
of conversation, without having so much quanta quarks
stork butter and curd cheese to mash up:
for a thrill in the trill... yar yarn pi's randomised counting rates.
because not everything you read is technically
within the framework of an addressee, or read aloud,
and no one wants to read **** like a bog standard
newsreader prompt on auto-queue of flimsy pages of lies:
i mean, it happened on a monday, but not a joycean monday,
it was 4pm, one gun shot was heard a minute prior,
but then jules anno domini came along and said: stern!
make the eyes stern! then gregory the pauper of paupers
said: it was actually 9am and the gun shot was heard a minute after:
but still the man at the market shouted: '*** yer bahnanas,
toe fo' 'un, *** yer bahnanas - toe quid bunches fowl's worth!'
yes, the h in english is an elongation "umlaut,"
now say it *****, say it *****: bahamas.*

most people wash their faces in the morning
for the eager 9 o'clock slap of reality
for the bossy 8 hour toothpaste feel
on the vertical, without the whips and chains;
i only wash my eyes, knowing that
i'll probably "say" something *****
but see all too squeaky;
then i fuse a hangover with a bit of alcohol
to ensure the hangover stays longer
and feels like the previous night's binge;
we apache and aboriginal down here,
we don't ask for cruise shipments of thoughts
on the sunny side of starboard with the pensioners
under blankets of deceit.

so the first time they tried to **** me was
in a hospital cot,
the nurse almost suffocated me, gave me a heart
condition, fearing the monster with the chernobyl
birthmark.

the second time it was my childhood companion
conrad, who pushed me into a deep dark well
but having clung to the edges i managed to not fall
and climb out, conrad's mother was there too
(sunlight in a sugar crystal, or the punkin for a
pumpkin in canto xii from chicago breezy,
now the poem, reflected with the pumpkin in mind,
or that rowntree pastille twinkle of bleached tooth
and thumbs in thumbs up the ****
for things sold with audacity past the use-by-date;
cold-air balloons nearing titanic!).

the third time? south american poison, brain damage,
the entire prompt for my writing expedition
into ***** wonka's factory of candy tooth smiles.

or as i say of darwinism with relief: am i watching
the athletics or am i simply watching a chemistry experiment?
shouldn't it be called anabolics instead?
a needle to the puzzle muscles of aesthetics without
greek ship oar, *** horse reins, the scythe of wheat,
and we turn protein into carbon dioxide covered
by some plastic surgery on the sheen of lost wrinkles
in balloons on film - well obviously - given the tractor
and the aerodynamic future of fifty hundred different
speed mechanisms - the lax and laze of the populace
requires constant intellectual stimulation:
the 100m record was downsized from 10.5 to 9.5seconds
over the past twenty years, the mob rule is?
talk talk talk.

A smile is knowing
The dark crease of a well-arched spine
The dewy white lotus petals
The sad title of concubine
The blue glass so plainly beautiful
With its cold smooth sides
A blown vase that sits precious
Atop a dead deer's stretched hide
The hallowed ***** of a portruding illiac
And the decadent crust of a sweet fruit pie

On a black vinyl stage floor
In a room filled with echoing cries
The reverberance loud and hollow
With ears ringing opened wide

The bends of her young tendons
In her ropey pale limbs
They flex and harshly twitch
How a scared and hooked fish swims

The cyclic orbits of planets and lifetimes  
A ballerina's pirouette spins

Now the tarlatan and muslin gets torn to shreds
And the blinding stage lights quickly dim
The wet heat of a hungry tongue
Slaps upon her sweating skin

The audience simply does nothing
Just like the tall plant stalks of the green motel
Or the muddy vines in swamps in Rwanda
Or white wallpaper in the locked rooms of certain hells
The diseases that squirm in tainted waters
Of Liberia's ***** wells
The missing limbs of wartime amputees
Reflected in the golden glint of spent brass shells

Amidst the screams of
NO
STOP
NO
It yells the words
GO
GOD
GO

Through the grinning lips of the manifest destiny
And the arms of Khmer Rouge's killings
Its legs are formed from the many faces of lynch mobs
Its hands are hewn of American prison facilities and county jails
It's dripping deadly doses of fentanyl in local ****** shipments    
And ****** dancers

This is for those of you that are hopelessly addicted to deeper meanings...
Where you examine the steps you take in the day under a microscope to see
the cracks scrambling restlessly up your legs to find your weak spot.
Your **** of aroused curiosity can only be stimulated via
lightning struck snowy powders dripping gently down your throat and tickling your brain-stem
until you laugh at the crows poking their heads in your back pockets.
They burn holes in your suicidal tendencies like kids playing with matches
for the first time behind the shed.
When your **** gets hard from the fire burning too close to your retinas and
enflaming the world as you knew it, charred and raining ash on the dead roses
that you planted and forgot to water.
**** them, these pilgrims of anxiety crawling across your arms like
stranded orphans in the desert, where the nearest well is spiked with adrenaline aged in
a dying cactus.
Wow you are dark tonight..
As if the dandelion seeds you set free flew back and tried to choke you.
Where are the heart tickling epiphanies now?
Sitting out on break and blowing cigarette smoke into nearby passing baby strollers?
I am not expecting you to like this.
I am just a deluded witch doctor dissecting your brains and attempting to pry out the tumors.
Like an excommunicated jedi knight using his mind to strike flint together.
The sparks smile and dance like college kids on ecstasy, not quite realizing that they are drowning in the undertoe.
They revel in the nostalgic numbness.
Only an IV of sweet lime juice can sustain such wilted leeches.
When lacking in vitamins, your skin is a papyrus to bury under the nile, and
watch from the hills as kids of 2100 and later search for WiFi to connect their burnt out forebrains to.
Coughing up several old moth eaten sweaters that you stuffed away
when your new girlfriend came over.
We hide our pasts like kilos under the coca cola shipments, and no matter
how far you ride the rails, the rats still nest and chew apart the cables that
keep the whole train locked together.
And why is it that we secrete our secrets in our sweat, and cover it up with
cheap deodorants?
Our catch-phrases mask the stagnant breath of our restless nature.
Humans, the bugs in our systems trying so hard to shout out to us that we don't really exist.
Thoughts as fragile as smoke could never support our weight if we chose to
colonize the moon and dig for diamonds in her eyes.
We may find that our stain-glassed windows keep out most of the light, while
preaching to keep our eyes closed and heads held close to the ground.
The civilized dances we partake are only nervous ticks of robotic
drones drilled on overtime.
And we think that these words useless, like grains of sand to let trickle out of your hands.
Our words mean nothing!
Even though you might have felt something in the last five minutes as these
black scarabs have peeled away at your comprehension.
You paint pictures with only black and blue and expect
fresh tongues to offer you green and purple instead.
But how can you expect anything other than the bruises you beat into the walls.
Like magnets on strike, you expect the world to just "let it go."
But I'm not about to rely on that weaker force to guide us.
The paths of unprecedented unraveling is where we are heading.
Where gravity is so pre-"concious-cocreation" and the last street light alive
will keep on whispering its salty sentiment.
You and I are not so different, although we profess to keep our distance
and fear too long of eye contact, as if a moment of silent connection
triggers the virus warnings and ***** up your downloads.
****..
All I wanted was a light-hearted comedy and all you had stocked up in your
dvd cabinet was a bunch of black and white ***** films.
You said the dark side makes you appreciate the light, but every night i hear
those last beaten breaths, limping across the dark hallway with their fingertips sliding
quietly along the walls.

The papers are wet with ink.
Russia is losing it's war.
North Korea is swamped with the Covid.
Tucker is backpedaling his replacement theory.
Finland and Sweden are enrolling.
Armament shipments are making a difference.
The Pope is apologizing.
That needs repeating: The Pope is apologizing.
(But why stop with the Aboriginals. Consider the Jews and Irish).
Fossil fuels are on the decline.
(plastic microchips are in our fat)
I can still buy Roundup.
Tobacco is banned in most public places here.
*** is not.
There are more drunks, and more behind bars, and in front.
We have safe injection sites.
I have robots asking me if I'm a robot.
There are more tv stations selections.
TV is not worth watching.
LPs are making a comeback.
Right to Life is Wrong for Many.
... and on... and on

You're an island
that housed beauty many shipments ago
For a drowning soul,
can only be saved by a rush of gold

Treasures of gold, lie hidden bestowed,
Beneath the crater of an old souls bowl

If my heart be the earth,
I'd look for peace
If my death sparked life,
I'd look to leave
And if life had meaning,
What could this be?

If my heart was round, I'd assume the earth fits this mold
Many moons ago it could dare lay low

Darkness fears the light
Like a kid in twilight 
Pondering on quiet times
Spent churning the street fights

Tom of Bungles Company places an order
and  Bond of On-the-Ball Company calls back
and he tells Tom:
“Hey, listen…You’ve ordered another two shipments
of the goods? Look, you haven’t paid for the previous 4 orders
and we can’t ship your new order till you pay for the previous four”

“Oh,” says Tom of Bungles Company
quick and snappy
*“Cancel the order then
We really can’t wait that long”

I do not have the land
Nor have I purchased
Enough seeds
To grow my own food

I am reliant
Upon the power grid

I have enough canned food
To survive a month or so

If I did have money
Maybe I would buy
A good amount of seeds

Buy years worth
Of food
That can be stored
For emergencies

I watch the videos
On YouTube
About what life
Is like

In Yemen
Saudi Arabia
Syria
And Iraq

Wow
What a mess
Sectarian violence

Houthis in Yemen
Opposing the government

FSA rebels in Syria
FIghting ISIS
And trying to overthrow Assad

The Iraqi government
Is having to rely upon
Shia military groups
To combat ISIS

These same Shia militant groups
Then engage in sectarian violence
Burning and attacking
Sunni villages

This may cause
Some Sunnis
To become sympathetic
Toward ISIS

This sectarian conflict
Has been around
Since the beginning
Of Islam

A Shiia protester
In Eastern Saudi Arabia
Protests against
The Sunni regime

Despite the wealth of the country
This Shiia minorities
Live in poverty

A few violent protesters
Spoiled their peaceful protests
Now the Sunni government
Considers them terrorists

"It is a war that never ends
Because it has no objectives
Israel's military occupation
Is not an obstruction of peace;
It is the replacement of peace
It is the institution of war
As a way of life"

This quote
Taken from an article
In Quartz magazine
Written by Oded Na'aman
On Sept. 21, 2015

And as I read
About the problems
In the Middle East

I can't help but think
That one day
Some day
In my life

Life will be closer to what
They experience
Then what we experience today

Class struggles
Armed migrants
Angry Jihadists

A Federal government
That uses the state highway system
For transport
Of military vehicles

The markets
Maybe they won't always get
The food shipments

Maybe there will just be rations
Terrorist attacks
Become more common place

U.N. Forces here to help
Maintain order

A strict curfew enforced
Drones flying over suburban neighborhoods

The dollar
Less and less relevant

As the SDR
Of the
International Monetary Fund
Becomes the reserve currency
Of the world

America's military forces
Involved in different
Conflicts throughout the world

In China, Afghanistan and Syria

North Korea brags and boasts
Of its capabilities
Firing a weapon
That takes down
Most of our power

It's okay
Really
We'll get it
Back up
At least some people
Will have partial power

Just keep your head down
And do
As the militant government says

Or you'll be hauled off to some camp

Yes, this is America

And this is the world

This primitive world

Humans have many problems
It's plain to see

Lost, though the lake at my side
Could not be any more familiar
It's this vantage
New shipments of sunlight
Swim to me
Cars rocking along, they haven't seen
My screams
I'm lost, I'm lost
Someone bring me home
I'll never return to Germantown

I'm Matt
And I do as I please

Thousands and thousands
Of hours

Human condition
Downloaded

20th century history
Downloaded

I'll tell you
What "I do"

I read books
And take notes
And learn about history
And other societies

I'll tell you
What you do

You watch the television
And water the lawn

That's what you do

I've had enough
No one tells me
To do anything

I have images

Of Mujahideen warriors
Driving out the Russians
To defend
Their way of life

And while others fight
To defend their way of life
I will fight to defend my way
Of living

It will be a war with words
I am a man of Tao

You do not tell me
To do anything

Whoever "you" are

You have a lot of nerve
Suggesting that I get
A part time job
On the weekends
To pay my bills

I'm a substitute teacher
That means working
Two days a week

I have no intention
No intention
No intention

Of ever teaching full time
Of ever teaching full time
Full time teachers don't make much
Anyhow

And they dedicate 50 hours a week
To what they do

I have too many interests
I like to read
And hike

There are too many
Beautiful things to see
Mother

As I drive
Drive around

Get away from the TV

This nation is in trouble

I will not work part time
Over the summer

You will pay my bills

If you want a war
Bring it on!

You can't picture a time
When our society has collapsed
When we are eating canned goods

When the shipments sent
To the markets are infrequent

I can, I know
I know
That our country is in
Some trouble

And no
I won't work
Part time
For a minimum wage

Because
I do As I Please

If that makes me selfish
So be it

Barrack’s on vacation, playing golf by the sea,
but life keeps interrupting and wasting greens fees
Iraq is in flames and the country may fall,
Barrack steps calmly up and addresses his ball.
While ISIS is murdering Kurds by the bunch
Barrack’s on vacation and ordering lunch.
Israel is in trouble as Hamas wages war.
Barrack limits arms shipments and tallies his score.
Ferguson, Missouri suffers racial unrest,
while Barrack is debating which driver is best.
James Foley is dead, his throat has been cut.
Our President speaks, and then he makes a nice putt.
My colleagues rebuke me. “Don’t beat a dead horse!”
The President’s great, he’s staying the course.

I am not in contact with my emotions
they're distant to me and far away
it's been centuries since we've met again
ever since the night I let them be torn away

I found out early that love holds you back
so I cut off all association
And now my faux emotions sparkle
without any questioning

Because everyone only sees my smile
And it's not a cry out for help
But instead, all that I sprout it for
Is to display my independent self

So there's no reason for me to have anyone
Because I couldn't hold commitment.
I can watch from afar easily
As I decimate the shipments
Because my heart yearns to travel to my mind
and I painstakingly won't let it
I did this one to myself and now I am secluded

by Arcassin Burnham


You wouldn't talk,
you wouldn't squeal,
now look at you,
you're sitting right in hell,
can't be the truth,
what this world brews,
it's nothing new,
rather be dead than probably sitting in jail,
the problem is,
we take in a lot,
buy from these fakers,
eat your food or it'll be stale,
we're eating twins , i'll tell you later on what all of that means,
by all means its guaranteed,
they thrive off greed,
live in deceit,
give the money, they destroy our peace.

trying to depopulate the earth,
ain't that a *******,
poisons meds and foods,
I'm going vegan , do you think i'm a sucker,
we don't know the products we put in our pots,
automatic disabilities from the flu shots,
this ain't a conspiracy cause its already been bought,
shipments already been stocked,
learning **** that is a lie in every school that we've been taught,
times is of the essence,
only just have seconds,
time to break the silence and debate the tension,
God is always listening,
ain't no time for wishing,
long as you just pay attention.

You wouldn't talk,
you wouldn't squeal,
now look at you,
you're sitting right in hell,
can't be the truth,
what this world brews,
it's nothing new,
rather be dead than probably sitting in jail.

Everyone was
So happy
And secure

Here in America

And in a heartbeat
My how things have changed

Suburban households
Are on food rations

Shipments
To markets
Are infrequent

Hyper-Inflation

On top of that
The power grid
Keeps failing

After the EMP attack
They get it going
For a while
And then it fails

It was only a matter
Of time

And I knew it would happen

And we weren't prepared

Sure we had a few months
Of food prepared

But that was all

We should have had years ready

Like an old man
I move slow and steady

Never know
When my next meal will be
In America
The land of misery

And the drones keep
A constant eye out
To make sure

You stay at home

If you're out
Past 11

A UN ******
May put a bullet
In your dome

No longer
A citizen
With your rights

And with their
High tech gear
The military forces
Own the night

Life is fleeting
And it seems to me

That there may be a disaster coming
That will bring great misery

And everything
Is always so **-hum
My family sits arounds
And twiddles their thumbs

Don't have
All the necessary
Emergency gear

A troubling time
May be quite near...

Be careful of what seems innocent.
Small acts of hate unseen by the eye,
Acts that can snowball into larger threats.
When tears could fill rivers high.
For their stories are suppressed.
As they defy,
The socially constructed narrative.
Can’t even say goodbye.
As that, like everything is prohibited.

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy.
After all it’s a demo,
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.

What makes a difference?
Apparently it’s pigment.
And worth is not equivalence.
When people are forced into shipments.
Is that what they mean by deliverance?
Wish this was all a figment.
For I in sane consciousness.
Cannot believe it.
That we live in a world,
That murders the innocent.
And justifies it as omnipotence.
And anyone who says otherwise,
Is a heretic.

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy.
After all it’s a demo,
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.

What is freedom?
Well it’s certainly ain’t free.
So, does that make it dumb?
To get wood, you must cut down the tree.
And to make a new land and a hefty sum.
You must cut down the native and Métis.
Seems fair to me. (Sarcasm)
So, than what is equality?
When the quality of one is tarnished,
For the sake of supremacy?
If we are equal?
Why are there still those in need?
If we have freedom,
Than why do we still bleed?
And the innocents in jail aren’t free?
Why are there still cries from those like George Floyd,
Screaming that they just can’t breathe?
Tell me!
If we have democracy,
Why are they still sterilizing people who look like me?
Why is there still so much divide and animosity?
And I like some many others,
Have to face discrimination on the basis of our biology?
Tell me! I really want to know!

Why is it?…

Only a small demographic,
Can experience democracy?
Maybe it is,
A demo after all.
That you got to pay to win!
Oh, the hypocrisy.

I sketch life with breath and left death on it's own, commitment to shipments I witnessed stiffness as a stone, I gifted the chrome, condoned zones as my home, self crowned urban legend, these seven days are like drones, blow up in cases, the daily basis what you make it, opportunity given this living cries when you fake it, only hit brakes when the feds tread what you do, cold hard brew, these dues clue what you chew.

Tall grass and famous landslide in Mississippi
it told me yesterday about your coming

architects from celibacy and bent horns from across the nations
they sang to me yesterday about your arrival

destroy the elite and build an underwater glass house with pharmaceutical shipments
negate the metal rust and shave it right off with lawnmower intact
grab onto musical instruments with reddening knuckles and hunting socks
don't wear out your hunting socks
before it's over
don't wear out your hunting socks

I do think it's good
I do repeat myself when under stress
I do watch for camcorders filming my last kitchen
I do enjoy parkour!
now one of them's a lie

now is a lie

bird watching paint drying reminiscent of the particular fetish for gallantry
acts of strange science fiction cause processes to get a little finicky and hardly noticeable
remember that time in college when?
Easily born from a roasting turkey
it's gonna be terrifying and unrecognizable by the time

question your stress and cheap luck, darlings!
Get addicted to anxiety and rotting perfume, schoolboys!
Odorous indulgence never occurs to frankincense
who is the turkey roaster himself in the flesh

five or six minutes will pass before some idea other than the following dawns on you
you and the reader here are not pawns
like chess, man, like chess
you got it, goat!

Best yet
hardly a challenge
do tell
as the crowd demands

My cousins are dead because of you Norman Cousins swearer to masonic blood oaths. Cousin Cousine gave hope to my cousins & me & to Ted Danson, Ned Manson, Fred Janssen & Jed Hanson. Ship now Stanley ** or forever hold your shipments for the sudden crapping-out of nice people is what I'm gambling on. Marilyn Monroe is unforgettable especially since corporators never relent in keeping her name & likeness before the public. By the 7th day of an electrical black-out feminism will be no more as the natural order of things will be restored. The cancer-afflicted girls who make the news are suffering from radiation sickness. Radiation sickness cures nothing. Radiation sickness denigrates the immune system. Next stop: doughnut shop for APPLAUSE & APPLE SAUCE, a simple sample of Pederson's shrimp in shambles & shims in sandals with a dosage o' ol': allopathism, regionalism, nationalism, emotionalism, rationalism, pyorrhea, diarrhea, gonorrhea, Cary Grant, Gary Crant, Crary Gant, Grary Cant, Carry Gant, Carr Ganty, Garr Canty, Granty Car, Ganty Carr, Garnt Cary, Carnt Gary, Carnty Gar, Garnty Car, Arnty Garc, Arnty Grac, Ranty Garc & the man who stands above others: Ranty Grac. Help me dead Dave Dudley to rave studly then pave mud free with Neil Diamond to **** Neil Simon worshiper of: Satan's hollyhock tree Hollywood; **** Dolly's Dollywood; Tamil's Kolly-wood; Bomay's Bollywood & fair airplay for the not-so-fair *******' Nollywood where whitey ain't welcomed even as a token.
   Malignant cells are electrostatically-charged negative as is the immune system. Like-charges repel one another making it impossible for the immune system to mount a direct assault on malignant structures so, instead, benignant cells build a tumorous mass to contain the clutch of cancerous cells. If the immune system could attack cancer, mammalian pregnancy (gestation to term) wouldn't be possible as pre-embryonic cells (which are virtually indistinguishable from malignant cells) would be defined by the immune system as invasive & condemned to destruction & absorption.
   It's minimum-wage day in Albania! Grab a strange Albanian woman's *** to get the fun started and the ball rolling!