I was thinking of you as I practicing typing. I agree. The yellow bull-doze cats knock down trees. They kill myriads of life forms. It sounds like fibula's' and femur, skull and white collar, elbow or chin, humor bones too, getting ground and crunched. The sound is as real as a skull bone cracking wide open from a rifle's gun in a war-zone. This is done for a fraudulent fake and deadly economy. A trap-- A noose. A slave block in each town. A Negro (o, stop it, I am respectful) fenced in chorale, a brief visit, a short walk, and after a lobby appointment with Sea'a'toe Joe___.

O, it's all in walking distance from 'our' "honored" "elected" representative's. no. 'Um down in DC propping a stage-block yard sale? There is nothing in their house junk closet a sane person need to buy.

Greysky, people here remind me of people I spoken with, and listened to...the ancient field thinker came to mind reading your post. A good instructor would teach *oiko-economics...

...post bloodshed...plant platoons, squads, regiments, and companies of greens, collards, watermelons, french flies soar into the blue, bees buzz, and gads I love to nod a quit yes-um to you. Planed lavender, Gnosticism's pepper tasting flowers for a mixed salad (Milk Sativa) and colored other plants...see open blossoms...piston? stamen" babies... O, Milky Way out there, we HOPE. yes.

That's real investment...Mr "S" would say, and all the while having a "tiny-bit" of pleasure to dangle ten toes in a creek so the black minnow or little colorful guppy fish could tickle yuze toes for free. It was Socrates. His 'gal' had a tiny few maladies and could be seen in K-mart's of that bygone era?

If I knew a DCcop or two, I'd have them knock you out with a white cue tip (hint). Clean your beeswax out of each ear once a year.

I was too principle to (a pile of compost) turn on a computer. A 'tiny bit' over a year ago, I 'hit' (not with a ash ball bat) Chris 'cuss' Floyd's site and what a stumble into a winter creek. Then to come here for a bowl of chilly con carny! I remember thinking William has no guile, and talks with a funny tennis-sea and blend of a dry air from Arizona. It began to seem warm. A "wee bit" of a people's hillbilly-ish lisp, also. I read you letters thinkers for long (rusty drill) while, and wondered who are the hairy ears and nose bachelors? Who are those that lay in the barley grass and look up the single ladies skirt? William's friends.

I sat in the Grandstands for free at 'untold territory' and when it seemed like a bloody bull fight in Madrid, I left. I'm still delinquent and behind on the Salon rent. There is a saloon near here who gives away Rolling Rock or dark Yingling (pony pee) in a green bottle for $1.50. home cook meals on bachelor's nights.

I had self-doubt, and no-doubt, that the politicians were nuts and protective of only a big yucky ego. I had to learn the bugger-blog yin/yang jingle calico's/politico's jingo. I never wish to lay dead down and remain (not Romanian salad) supine, or intentionally hurt a lady. A wish we'd go back to a matriarchal Pax America Queen'kingdom. Anything is good, better, and best believe me...other's too..better than BushCo's 'thief-drones'...

....I never thought we see a Wooster era come (and I believe it's to go quickly too) down the pike (no eat northern pike fish).

The neocons are masters of hate and contempt. A hatred of self, and it's a self-loath, imho, that leaps from their wretched ugly, vain, and impoverished soul. At a lark (not a lark in site yet, larks and darling starlings return about May 1st?), I started muttering at squeaky tennis-sea's E.B's site. He sent me Juan Cole and then to this "crappy" (not sea crappie's) dark barroom joint. It takes 20-minutes for eyes pupils to adjust to the darkness in the bar-brawl...dance-hall. It's easy to bump and fall into a grand piano.

It's a place to slowly accumulate the best virtues I've sensed anywhere. The tiniest little snub should NOT let one fester in too long of a discouragement. William would rather have some gal rip (no R.I.P) his stinky shirt of his hairy gorilla back, but, and he's a nice enough of a gentleman to give it to her if she slipped on green boss at the skinny dip hole in the wintertime. I sensed I needed to brush up on common sense...

...On the basis of common sense, and which we best humbly admit, we need some more Common Sense. It's fleeting essence, or commodity that needs to be stored in cans...for certain...in these ding--dong, neocon's, former "experts" and plain to see, just big drips.

A grave digger is more noble, a plumber, a night-soil com-poster, etc., and will accomplish a greater reward in the "next life" (?) if they are 1% guessing a god will call them to the accounting firm of "Damian-duh-Cheetos." What trouble.

Anyway Willy, women or men, married or free, garbage collector or gold gathers...I still doubt one can find a honest lawyer.

I'd invest in a golden hen. She won't give a kill look that will set the barley bails on fire. I do believe it's okay to say love and sit and watch grass grow green at Greenwood's site for adjusting sore eye pupils.