Well that was quite a weekend and I’ve not got much to say yet. So let’s have a look at overwork. Stealth genocide. Hidden eugenics.
Somewhere in the room with the geezers smoking huge cigars, gulping ambrosia, slaking metamorphs and worshipping djinn there must be, beside the secret maps, upon the table; the recipe book. The great big book of alchemy that describes and tabulates everything you need to do to grow humans in the garden and remove the weeds.
“Sir Philip Watts and his team led by Gard and Mooney did a fine job. Mooney was a very hard worker and took only 20 minutes for lunch (a habit which he tried to impose on his staff), but he died in 1915 from the effects of overwork.” p103 A Century of Naval Constuction, THE HISTORY OF THE ROYAL CORPS OF NAVAL CONSTRUCTORS 1883-1983, D.K.Brown, 1983. Conway Maritime Press Ltd.
There is something at work in a country that can haul a big pink cock down the street, I’d love to see this in John Finney Strasse, and yet face a demographic crisis. There is something viciously envious.
Something wants those shores.
Nuke the bastards, work them to death, nuke their financial system and then nuke them again. They still won’t go away. Someone ought to tell their handmaiden that they are in a middin.
Big John would have shot this hybrid dolly mared ass out of town. The fuckin’ pirate bitch.
Work as a rubbered car up the ass=slavery.
However there is something to this pyramid scheme that is eternal.
Worked it out yet?
There is no work, just routine and worship and death in their service.