Title of below: Even if L and me never spend another penny again on anything and continue working and dumping money into our retirement accounts and into Social Security *all* of our money will be stolen (motherfucking Democrats) by 2030 if we aren't first destroyed by a derecho 500 miles long and twenty miles deep or vaporized in a nuclear exchange or simply murdered by a lone shooter with an AK-47 in a grocery store or gassed to death by Emperor Cracker. Also too, *Kenneling* a verb in your nearer-than-you-think future. *Kettling* too, should you bitch about it in the streets (see also 2022 October 5 for stanzas of seventeen syllables for sub-title of below)
SHORT TALK ON HOPES
Soon I hope to live in a totally rubber house.
Think how quickly I will be able to get from
room to room! One good bounce and you're
there. I have a friend whose hands were
melted off by a firebomb during the war.
Now, once again, he will learn to pass the
bread at the dinner table. Learning is life. I
hope to invite him over this evening in fact.
Learning is the same color as life. He says
things like that.