You know, we sure could use the space where you are standing now; at least the part outside the CNS; give us that at least. I’m using my nice voice to ask nicely and but once. Have your minute—please, then answer. Because when that ECG machine hits jackpot let’s see which of you numbnut cockroaches is left scampering or scuttling or scattering or whatever dumbass word you use to describe your daily hum and hive buzz. I’m hitting the damn thing and it isn’t tapped out—I can tell you—so let’s keep scratching, huddled porchside. The next generation might think we were carving our names into the trees. Hell no. We were scratching, holding onto bus tickets, etc.
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