As one white male poet blog to another, Comrade, I feel dear enough to Us to admit you into the Truf that your boxes are infested. Why not make the Rock-Hard move and extinguish their tired snarling? I'm yawning -- I'm also eating a pork chop -- but that's beside the Objective Point that I'd much rather read my own work in the numerous anthologies, chapbooks and perfect-bound books editors have had the honor to publish me in. (Not to mention my forthcoming soliloquy, Driftwood.) Not to mention that. And not that I have anything against those stupid fucking haoles but I am of the Sincere Opinion you've got to be a Man about this. Take a cue from me, dear lad, and institute a First Strike Policy. I used to be a cowering little bitch but now I'm all about Provoking and Torturing the Innocent and Guilty Alike. Get your Forces to the staging area, Ron, we're going P=L=A=T=I=N=U=M.


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