Yes, the NNA report was somewhat informative but smeared, obscured,
lipsmacked by the trivial sidebar complaint.
What fear, of what or whom? Truce for what, a minor snit sniffle,
piffle? And what is this illiteracy about stars and the little
nobodies aching to lick their shriveleds as if condemned to it by
trepidation. That stinks of abject student trolling the profs,
whimpering where there is no need except by the protection of
embracing secondary status.
Turn not thy tender belly up for mercy, bite whatever barks at you,
real or imaginary, or threatens or bluffs, yeah, it must be about
bluffing, pretending to be terrified or worse, bored, at no longer
masterful or fed up with being slavish. Fuck that and that and me.
Elpeda where art thou to stiletto this whining and regretting the old
days chickenshittish, lollygagging procrastinating, side-eyeing the
medal giving head patters for effect.
Backroom chat is servantish carping about disrespect when the house
needs burning, weeping throats inviting slitting, your own mostso. No
truce, no mercy, no overdone respect for anybody.
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