NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG

With Voltaire’s prayer, Kim, Don and Art open evening soirées on Luna.  Megalomaniacal lunatics, are they.  By day, prolific liars.  Seekers of truth, evenings, on Urantia’s … orbital.

Implausibly commissioned, by the Watcher, Urantia’s, Penemue … (Pen), they have been, to pen a Truth and Reconciliation derived … Plan Kim-Don.  To Nobel Peace prizes … win.

The Donald’s taking Thor’s hammer to an old world.  Hammering with new lies, old allies and old world ways, in favor of master puppeteer, Vladimir.  Verily, the weak … must die.

Verily, the weak must die.  It is the law.  ‘Tis the law of Darwin.  ‘Tis not meant to be cruel. ‘Tis just a law, of evolution.  And Vlad and Don meet tomorrow in private, primate, duels.

All,  hurry.  Don to deconstruct.  US, and allies.  Bob to report.  On lies, in truth.  Arthur is just a More-Mart greeter, but Don, beware the ides.  Not Caesar’s March, but September’s.

Then, the three brothers joining hands along with that evening’s invitees to their nightly, lunar soirees, pray, ” Lord protect me from my friends.  I can take care of … my enemies.”

 

 

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NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG

A Nobel Peace Prize.  It’s the only prize the Don cares about.  Alliances?  Who needs ’em?  Why construct, if destruction’s, easier?  Survival of the fittest.  It’s all about me, not them.

“It ever has been and ever shall be, all about me,” Don often thinks to himself, whenever anyone tries to horn in on his mastery of the universe; eschewing all advice, whatsoever.

He’s taken Thor’s hammer to the old world.  Hammering old allies in favor … of Vladimir. The weak must die to, pave a way for the strong.  But the ides of September … draw near.

All,  hurry.  Don to deconstruct.  US, and allies.  Bob to report.  On lies, in truth.  Arthur is just a More-Mart greeter, but Don, beware the ides.  Not Caesar’s March, but September’s.

The brothers are feeling hurried and harried.  So Kim, Donny and Art have taken a fancy  to Voltaire’s, prayer:  “Lord, protect me from my friends.  I can take care, of my enemies.”

A failure to plan is a plan to fail.  So Kim, Don and Arthur plan, in forays to Luna, nightly, not, to fail.  Hence plans, A, B, and C, as necessary.  A catcher in the rye, may be, Plan ZZZ.

And Urantia’s Caesars hurry, as they hurtle, through space-time’s, matrix.  Vlad … and Xi.  And Kim and Don.  And none of them understand but sense … a foreboding … ominously.

PLAN ZZZ

The brothers are feeling hurried and harried.  So Kim, Donny and Art have taken a fancy  to Voltaire’s, prayer:  “Lord, protect me from my friends.  I can take care, of my enemies.”

Xi stretched his eyes, horizontally.  Then, gazing intently at Don, he said, “Confucius said, ‘Turning ourselves inside out, all of us look like, all others.’” So Xi to Don, last night, said.

All,  hurry.  Don to deconstruct.  US, and allies.  Bob to report.  On lies, in truth.  Arthur’s just a More-Mart greeter, but Don, beware the ides.  Not Caesar’s March, but September’s.

A Nobel Peace Prize.  It’s the only prize the Don cares about.  Alliances?  Who needs ’em?  Why construct, if destruction’s, easier?  Survival of the fittest.  It is all about US, not them.

And he wouldn’t have cared about the current, World Cup fever, except that Vlad’s team, was, until recently, still competing.

A failure to plan is a plan to fail.  So Kim, Don and Arthur plan, in forays to Luna, nightly, not to fail.  Hence plans, A, B, and C, as necessary.  A catcher in the rye, may be, Plan ZZZ.

NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG

NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG

NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG

NUMBER : LETTER :: PROLOG : EPILOG