Reflections in a Petri Dish | The Master of Ceremonies at the Armageddon Club.

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be true and discriminating.
Ladies and gentlemen!!! May I have your attention? Please direct your eyes center stage. Pay no mind to the Nimrods waving their hands in the air; hitting each other with pig bladders, chasing midgets with seltzer bottles, screaming, yelling, spraying stage blood into the audience and doing whatever they can to distract you from what is going on center stage. That is just the Zionist Banker owned BBC (Boobs, Bumpkins and Catamites).
Please note the man standing front and center; rapier thin, looking a little like Fred Astaire but too handsome to be human, with a gaze of timeless insouciance that says, “too cool for school”. Of course he is. He didn’t come here to learn, he came here to teach. What’s going on? You might ask. You might well ask. This has been heating up under the paint rags in the janitor’s closet for some while. It’s been coming up that long slow grade with a multitude of ore cars. It’s moving faster than you would expect but they’ve added extra locomotives behind. The news is coming from the left. It’s coming from the right. It’s growing up through the sidewalk, soft and sweet but hardly dreaming. It’s wakey wakey in the achy breaky world of the ‘where can we hide’ (cotillion)?
Mr. Apocalypse has put his pinstriped engineer’s hat on and it goes real nice with the pinstripe suit. His eyes are blazing with a fire and the fire teleports across space onto the covering of every object that he sees. The fire burns away the covering and reveals the intrinsic truth and nature of whatever is exposed. There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

via Reflections in a Petri Dish | The Master of Ceremonies at the Armageddon Club..

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