Friday evening fabuzzese TO Sunday Morning sneak away from stalkers and surveillance in the Eucatastrophe of Fantasy

Fetty Wap was wandering about Walden on a Sunday morning while Thoreau was trying to get to church without being followed by the paparazzi. Jesus who often could not go to temple for the very same reason (I mean look what happened when he finally did)sent him a butterfly to console him but meanwhil Fetty happened upon what he thought was a Bando, and began to brag that he was gon hit the bando but it aint no backwoods what he roll, whereupon FGL chimed in, this is how we roll, because their horse and buggy had got stuck in Thoreaus Tree which Tolkien was using for the niggle story. whereupon Thoreau reentered his domains and cried, you got something against the backwoods?" Tolkien stuck his head in and said, this is why the Grotius theory needs to be amplified somehow.

Boethius wrote the consolation of philosophy and there was always a tradition at Valanga of spoofing philosophy as a sort of ``?

If you're stuck somewhere and can't even open the door without surveillance, be consoled this Friday eve. You are not alone, and beati voi when people don't get it. Sam whoever it is couldn't go anywhere without being stalked. It seems his altruistic bent, mismatched socks, and messy hair, threatened to bring down the winkiburger empire of crypto greed, and they responded by tailing him 24/7 with bing cameras and juiced up police bots, and interpreting his offers of brick fired cassatas as some sort of bribe intended to show them up as bad bakers (which they were since they didn't have the patience to sit around waiting for the dough to rise.No pun intended.) Everyone was distracted by politics, climate and all the other stuff thats on the internet.

To further complicate the situation, as everything else in the world got weird, A band of indigenous Hawaiians were brewing a protest to throw zuck off their ancestral lands and force him to surf in the shark infested waters of what is the name of that place who knows.

This is good fodder for eucatastrophe, Tolkien mused, whipping out some paintbrushes and lapsing back into a leaf by niggle area of purgatory, where he encountered Battling Bob Bellarmine taking notes for a sermon.
Somewhere else in Brooklyn or queens, or anywhere really, the Godfather was pigging out on pasta down at the place while lecturing de niro (notthe real de niro waht are you crazy?) on the Ostia consacrata and the proper prayers to say for the assunta and pleidadses.. He then promptly fell asleep on a bottle of Duca di Salaparuta, causing people to complain that he was lazy, and his lawyers responded that he was crazy according to a song somebody had heard whatever who knows I don't even speak English anyways.

The following morning (e non mi chiedere come lo saputo per favore SHEESH) an intellectual property war broke out between Sams mom babs and babs corcoran over who had the right to use The Babble with Babbling Babs as a substack/podcast title. It ultimately went to a crew of ancient askenasis who traced it all the way back to some tower that they could prove existed because they supposedly had the mylars down at the registry of misdeeds whatever ok lunch break the Godfather said and everybody went back to "the place" where Rinaldo (dont ask" fired up the ovens and blew up the fishery. Or maybe the mix was just off.

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