I was told recently I may have a screw loose. Despite the indecipherable medical jargon utilized I still interpret it as a win. Their favourably apocryphal impression that there are any screws remaining at all is highly complementary. Reality is I’ve got everything tightly wedged around one grove where any ineffable movement could and likely one day will solicit a collapse like Pompei crafted of Jenga. But that’s fine, as we all know, whomsoever causes the tower to fall is also responsible for its rebuild. And next time I’ll procure an adhesive.
Now admittedly I did promise a lighthearted theme today, and the lie detector results determined that was, in fact, a lie. Goddamn it Maury. Then again, it could be argued that those who would engage in such pursuits have the lightest hearts of any. Exclusively within poetic conventions, of course. Generally, their avarice and gluttony would see said…
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