In Business, As In Politics, The Public

Kayso, It Turns Out That Driving An Actual Car Is Way Harder Than It Is In 'grand Theft Auto: Zombie Hooker Smackdown.

Little-boy Love...the Cleanest Pain I've Ever Known. Love Without Desire, Conditions, Or Limits - A Pure And Radiant Glow In The Heart That Could Make Me Giddy And Sad And Glorious All At Once. Where Does It Go? Why, In All Their Experiments, Did The Magi Never Try To Capture That Purity In A Bottle? Perhaps They Couldn't.

I Know That Even Now, Having Watched Enough Television, You Probably Won't Even Refer To Them As Lepers So As To Spare Their Feelings. You Probably Call Them 'parts-dropping-off Challenged' Or Something.

Perhaps There Is A Reason That There Is No Fool Piece On The Chessboard. What Action, A Fool? What Strategy, A Fool? What Use, A Fool? Ah, But A Fool Resides In A Deck Of Cards, A Joker, Sometimes Two. Of No Worth, Of Course. No Real Purpose. The Appearance Of A Trump, But None Of The Power: Simply An Instrument Of Chance. Only A Dealer May Give Value To The Joker.

Christmas Crept Into Pine Cove Like A Creeping Christmas Thing: Dragging Garland, Ribbon, And Sleigh Bells, Oozing Eggnog, Reeking Of Pine, And Threatening Festive Doom Like A Cold Sore Under The Mistletoe.