Traditions of Prague Foment

The Prague Spring had risen up from below, from the people themselves.-- Oleg Kalugin, Spymaster, p119

I do sometimes wonder why Twitter administrators haven't banned me. I've upset the kids, unwittingly, the teens yelling at me: "Chill Out!" and I've radicalized myself along libertarian sentiment enough to go to jail, just like Erik used to do. My favorite transsexual has a jacket, a sheet. Whatever your preferred usage-- but my willingness to act on my anger illegally springs from non-compliance. The mostly dead Erik  acts from the  radical left. Me? I want to destroy the entire system, from disability intakes, which are ineffectual outsource models, to HUD. If young libertarians like Craig have little love for the Federal Reserve, my hatred for the Department of Housing and Urban Development is as pristine as Ebsen's follies with Texan crude-- but not now. I'm sick, and it will take me two weeks to clear, give or take, with my stores of Mucinex, and, while I am unsure about my battle with Blogger, had I not purchased the domain, I sort of can pity the gatekeepers

Zuckerberg is a kid. I feel perfectly entitled to kick his meta-swindling billionaire ass, because, he, like you, refuses to look at the near genocidal price of the American welfare state, and I remember the twitter kids interviewing on public television. They aren't my censors, got that, but twitter's top brass have wedgies up their crotch. And I myself have gone a little off on the "follow and drop." When I was new to micro aggregate in 09 I had to learn, didn't quite get it, and got sore at a crime aggregator. I let it go, but really got mad, and swing expletives with Nixonion relish, and still feel sad for certain liberals who mattered to me; losing Nate was my fault, however. The flippancy of the ambulatory world just got to me when I looked at the other South African post graduate's blithe poise. Suck it up people, meet limited travesties like Gladhandler, trolls like me. Take us out to ball games, stop leaving us at the mercy of niggers who have no other choice. Stop running away from us. But now I have to work. Jeffrey gave me an idea. He can reject me 20 times, but I am determined, before I pass, to play in his league, and so I shall. All my other tabs are closed. Clean coffee pot, then hit boiler room. Some of you know the term.