Burn slowly, recharge lightly, Bon Chance mon Ami

 Pursuant to Classified wedge flask succession ordinances, all able bodied Reggie Supporters won’t be what your mother-in-law saw coming, RE: what modify-crunch billabong Hegemony lopping does for any Potsdam Conference coffee table. In tandem, fiduciary may it be on the erring side of hugs, small crimps, and “Hey Peg, please make sure that furtive mop schedule is fulfilled ... cockroach style (said with a wink of subtle oil dripping vavoom)”, we still find time for our glib free-zone topping helicopters. It’s all important to the process; no Dan left behind. You do remember what it was like pouring over the federal Asp Burgers? Snake skin gets all in your teeth and it’s somewhat awkward when you’re talking to their mom and they’re all like, “Hey! You ate my buddy!” While playing Minecraft and wearing fedoras. Can’t fault me for this one, especially since internal bumper cars clearly showed intelligence of coaxing, vilifying: Soil style, gaffer stomps, munch gumbles (version G.5), MAGA stuffer verbs, Ender’s game camp sites, numbing Travis Bagent Address terrains, and calf chuckles. Take it all, burn it thrice. Rake it tall, force the voltage, good luck and good night when the Zs are too fast for the nostril that shoots them on all our favorite analog channels... yup I went there. Your turn now, as I see this going nowhere but “for the win” on luck, Grisly scenes may it endure... until duos precipitate. Cash out, your epidermis is glow-pop mowing into decorum. 

Morning to all deranged

 There are never enough ‘ifs’ when inserting tapered Klingon translators. Happens that they just “can’t find their proverbial lever 3000 chip masher”, which is an involuntary cop-out propagated amidst stationary media  torn out by nobody the wiser: Crayon fiend of impotent steer trickers. Musing beyond what referees can’t possibly entertain, the arrival of cents and collars brew mightily by the wayside... which arguably is the greatest but least calcified retainer for ill-adjusted Canada cements. I’m talking big-time, okay, Renata? I’ve seen what happens when the B12 hits your flood cream , and 15 minutes ain’t no lie - baby bye, bye, bye... Conclusion? Cut the sanctimony and order the ice cream or this ship in a bottle will have found its corridor among the stars, stripes, and cerumen.