while the funeral procession goes on
In a fantasy nightmare the recreation of a Hollywood blockbuster is in the minds of the masses as they hear the banging noise is heard from within a coffin during the procession to celebrate the pomposity of one’s now past existence.
I am not one taken to moving my imagination beyond the realms of of those that we might consider within reason to be real stretches. Yes we have license to be creative but beyond that then an embellishment is mere stupidity born from vacant lots of the eternal sunset, where from the ashes arise indolent ideas tinged with pitiful penitence.
My dearly beloved Hillary still bangs the roof of the casket after go go Obama won the race. She is praying for a miracle of no minor proportion. I hope this does not come in the form of an assassination because I do rather like the young Obama. He is sterling, he is fresh, he is interesting, he rouses the masses, he is a leader with a beautiful style of leadership.
He sort of makes me think of me in a few years when I run for public office, the path, the pattern, the management. What style…
But my friend, the lovely Hillary(I believe this is the first time I have used lovely as an adjective for Hillary) absolutely refuses to concede defeat. She will fight teh ghosts after the procession and if that doesnt work then she will then have a moment with the Almighty himself to find out how this travesty could have happened. The nerve of that Chicago boy. How dare he challenge me, the mother hen. And how dare he run away with the prize on my watch.
But that gets you thinking though, that this world has become too globalised. That I sit here and talk about what we have happening in another country is amazing. I think this hasnt sunk in. I am sitting about 26 hours away from the United States of America and somehow, by the limited ingenuity of mankind I can take part in a debate raging there.
Brilliant. I am sure the aliens who know play ping pong with planets must be having a laugh.