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November 25, 2020
In a daunting roar of utter silence, they all move about as if they knew what they were doing, but they don't. Forget about telling anyone. They'd laugh at you. Delusions run with the SpongeBobs who get all the lines but never the girls. They are reserved for the Yellow King. He derives like a monkey wises up the trees for its kingdom no one knows, nor ever could. We have all forgotten those kingdoms, those of us who prey on Twinkies. To us they never existed. What a laugh. There is joy in the observance of this colossal ignorance.