Milo Refurbished, No Fecal Orifice Required

"If we find green alien goo or Spock's phaser, we'll let you know." --Joe Spano, recycling The X-Files, still soggy about the ears

While I am here, feeling guilty for wanting to stream another hyped black thriller to take a break, but not to worry, budget put it in a chastity lock, I thought of a wickedly explosive piece, which, if I could pull it off, might shine Trumpian flashlights in my direction, and break off some of Mile's glacier fury my way, but I have to pull it off first, and I remain uncertain that I can. We'll see. I could always post it here and be made fun of, [cf Masculine Culture, who shares an affinity with Tom Earle for the liberal call of "get involved," unless we're liable, then it's fuck off]. All I wanted to know from these boys is why they followed me, that's all. I was nice to a digital designing globe trotter, tweeted her respectfully when she found me. She bailed anyway. Hesitated, then booted her account, and then took Culture a bit sorely. If Libertarians follow me, I expect allegiance despite my stoking steam engine. It is here for all to read, and account holders run, shrieking for the hills, antagonizing some of us in turn. If I cannot sell it too, this tantalizing attack, I can always test poor Niume. Chuckle. Insofar as I am aware, I have no issues with Niume users, nor have any desire to poke pointy sticks. I put one mental in her place, sternly. But I am much like Bannon, from what I can infer, and Niume will have to weigh this eventually. I will speak my mind. The kids will gawk, get quite upset, report me. I caused a hugely divisive battle at Poet & Writers even before I decided murder and genocide were still a form of philosophical argument, before I openly claimed racism and homosexual hate my own.

For this evening, I am only going to rough the idea; I am working other things.