Redwave

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An appointed political activist Dave had arrived at hell and was just said that he had had a selection to make. It could go to capitalist hell or to communist hell.

Naturally Dave wanted to compare the two, then it geumherirrt more than at capitalist hell. It except the seeming door of Rockerfeller had drilled out there. "resembles that inside there it?" Dave required. "well" it has answered "in living capitalist hell it flay you you cooks from oil you linked at rock and let a vulture your liver outside tear up, and you upward in small pieces with the pointed meters cut."

"who is haleté terriblly!!" Dave. "I will check communist hell!" It made a branch at communist hell, where it uncovered an enormous line of the waiting persons, in order to go in; the line surrounded around the input seven times before the decrease outside of the function in the horizon. Dave signed, inside his way through pressed at the heading of the line, where he found Karl Marx, actively the persons. Dave asked Karl as, which communist hell was.

"in communist hell" impatiently "it flay you living person you said and could Marx to cook from oil to link at rock vultures outside of your liver be torn up, and you upward in small pieces with the pointed meters cut."

", but…, but it is identical that capitalist hell!" Dave protested.

"true" sighed Marx, ", but sometimes we do not have the oil not, sometimes have we meters…"

 

[Problem Child]

I finally read one of your posts. I'll never make that mistake again.

 

[RosevilleCAguy]

Amen.

ESL may be in order here.

 

[Azwed]

He is translating things from German I think. It is not that hard to read once you learn to not care about word placement in a sentance.

 

[REDWAVE]

Dyfunctional

Well, since you addressed me by name, I guess I should respond. In the day of the great desolution, with the burning and the tearing and crashing of towers and the lying and the gnashing of teeth, there came to the world a windowless monad. Yet the monad illumined a great vision, yet warped and bent as if through a funhouse mirror. All the wedding guests were partying in the back room, oblivious, insoucient, each intent upon the fumbling arcana. They heeded the monad naught.

They heeded little.

When the great shattering came, transcontinental, they were all wearing their striped pajamas, and wandered out of their vestibules translucent, incandescent, serendipitous, blinking their eyes as at the light of a billion suns.