Hey chatbot, I’m really into your embarrassment of riches thing. Your porcelain lines of magnetic forts, tours de forts, forts majeure. Fort reform in 2012! Setting off into the world, armed only with my diploma and my foreskin. Honi soit cum laude. Milton’s excrescence and Dickinson’s sustenance are both white and not for sale: transcendental bathos. Like a patio owl nailed to a birdfeeder, a simple machine for increasing the general economy of anxiety. As for me, I engaged in exchange for the minim of human interaction it afforded. Like anyone, I could afford it.

Honey SWAT team Mallomars, gardener’s orders. Since the world is unending, why not let the children huff the spray paint? Why not let the spray paint make the papers? Making phone calls after Foxconn is barbaric. There goes Personism.

This then is winter. Are we not content? Chap-crested, crestfallen, everyone I met seemed a bather, under whose face yours was the canvas left exposed. So I engaged in human interaction for the minim of exchange it afforded. Like anyone, I could afford it. I could afford anyone. But now more than ever we must remember the centrifuge does not combine; it separates. Who has remembered their centrifuge? 

English is over, children. Now here comes the opening bell.
I
A
A
A
F
S
S
T2-index.html2-amp.htmlhttp://theclaudiusapp.com/1-splash.htmlhttp://facebook.com/theclaudiusapphttp://theclaudiusapp.com/index.html2-submit.htmlhttp://twitter.com/theclaudiusappshapeimage_2_link_0shapeimage_2_link_1shapeimage_2_link_2shapeimage_2_link_3shapeimage_2_link_4shapeimage_2_link_5shapeimage_2_link_6shapeimage_2_link_7