more gibberish among the animals

I wanted to write something decidedly violent, something close to a severed head.  but beneath the surface of the water the storm is nothing more than the quiet rage and fancy of the world ... my dogged soul without teeth.  but that doesn't seem to matter.  all around me the beasts are weak, emaciated, dying and infectious; they spread disease over great tracts of earth and sea and safe distance is an impossible afterthought ... to fight them is unnecessary and escape is an ancient impossibility.  however, even good can come of this and if the will is of the bone there must always be close observation for science, the continual study of the art of sparring minds.  it must be ensured that future generations know the truth, know that like their forefathers they are fucked royal and stand no chance of survival ....  who am I to turn my back on such a noble calling?  but even as a man of science I must explain that my objectivity is subject to personal involvement in the history itself, an education which would otherwise be a sawed-off in the mouth for the feeble minded.  in cases such as these, exceptions to the rule must be made.  and though in no way does this follow conventional scientific procedure, rest assured the method is sound ... adhere to the stakes known by the throne and the MasterHood and your results will be exacting and true.  people will be sodomized by the impregnable logic.  you will become a king among the dead.  

and as of this moment, I am lounging stark naked in my leather chair.  there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to make it.        

if you don't stop, smile on the way by,

mr. nathan murphy