UnCemented

There is more than enough of everything to go round.

However there is a shortage of everything because a very few want to spelt their time drowning in Champagne, gorging on Caviar and hiding from the rest of us in gated Communities.

Gated Communities to while their hours while we toil.

Within whine they can reveal themselves as gods and masters of the None for there is no fear of their god before their eyes.

What price do we pay that they,confected from that toxic diseased vicious trite,
may wallow in the misery of others?

From the cowering, towering, pleasantly sulphurous defecations of their stunted wills come psychopathic and schizoid RICO statutes of every kind to leech every last penny from our lives and into their lazy secret safely vaulted lives.

Here is something to make you feel ambiguous. Again.

Here is something to make you feel bad.

Here is something to make you numb.

Here is someone to make you sad.

And then there are the things that we do and the pathetic gods of None never can.

Here is something that will bring great joy.

Here is someone to make you smile.

Break out the party clothes, rejoice and celebrate.

They are their own worst enemy and they know it.

That is why they are chosen to fail always.

Purgatory is, uniquely, their greatest joy.