Who knew that the present era,
such as it is, might come to be
defined by that Kierkegaardrail
against expansive idiocy, that
Danish aperçu-to-go with coffee,
the absurd. A pity, that from a
Queens so awash in Danish pastry,
a politician should have emerged
to stalk the earth with ignorance
as phosphorescent as his hair, on-
ly to gain his comeuppance from a
better of her territorial integ-
rity than to cede it, McConnell-
ishly, to his silly bluster. It
wasn't so much that his nation
had furnished no rejoinder, that
set the morning papers abuzz to
do the job of nailing it down, but
that when it finally did arrive,
it should have tripped so obvious-
ly and irrefutably from a culture
not known for power plays at all.
Ladies' Javelin aside, of course.
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