December 22nd 2009
I've been thinking. However, there's been a peculiar, if not, downright abnormality. I suppose this must have to do - not only with the chance - which there is. . . a definite assembly of choice words. However, even those expert's in depth in the matter of scienctific research, accumlated data regarding global warming have. (This is not an attempt to make obscene remarks about.)
My only theory, my one true - analysis.
What if - let's say, a lumped together fudgebar were symbolic of this present enigma we called it 'climate change', and what if, a bunch of people came together in an effort to free-the-market of this evil 'global warming' impending doom on a large Mass. Does this equate to people, the earth, or enterprise, is a cut above the butcher shops we find in your local supermarket. What, say's the butcher - who in lean cuts of your favorite meat supply, should we do about global warming, without which you may notice is a politician standing in front of him. However, that same political prisoner, from who name's cannot escape from, is representative of our inate right's. He who channels the funtioning of, that butcher, holding it's meat clever about to plunge it's weaponery down into the proverbial end. This is where it ends, says butcher, waiting patiently for the nameless politician to yell out, but he will not pay any attention to the cry. The call for help must be made from within, or perhaps, the least of our nerves, something in it's infancy suggested a combat is in store for control. That unlike - those poor hungry mouths to feed, the butcher acts like he hears nothing. There is nothing for me to say, or so he think's.
So, in time's of relative instable crisis, stable being the operative term, however, not in the case of risky political behavior. My impression of the butcher, thought, the politician, - I might consider this case in time - but, I've been instructed by fellow advocates not to proceed, unlike the butcher, the earth never needed a baby-sitter, or this butcher is a spy. Yes, he must be spying for the baby-sitters club. It's a trilogy, or prequil, or candid camera ready to expose all of the answer's. Nobody can treat me this way - nobody - not even the butcher's poor weapon of choice. After all, this is simply a commodity exchange between two primates, either one has no difficulty in not knowingly breach of the other. Therefore, this is no need for slippery slopes, like I said before, this stage of infancy requires nothing. There, as the politician said, shall do nothing. But to inform the butcher via telepathy of mother earth's promise that we are born as primates, and all primates do are suggest false facts in light of the oridinary clubbing over the head with blunt objects, which was much the scene to do in Copenhagen not too recently.
So to, will strategic council's obey under discretion as used in fatalist economic's such as in planning make-shift war zones, or military intervention, that the union of so called nations sit under a global incubator, waiting for some more awkward thinking habits, in Copenhagen, that those primate's were framed so long - long ago. A purging box, filled with future beauraucratic aristocrat's without glowing endorsements would be frivolous ill-repute.
We do nothing -says the butcher, nothing. I have no liability, under no obligation or credence to such unborn erratic, or irresponsible undeveloped country, as the butcher saws off the final cut of beef.
==============
No comments:
Post a Comment