“To the moon, Alice”… to the moon in 20min or Less

“Ain’t that America?”

Dale

Dale… but only after you finish Apocalypse Now!

… [A]nd the colored girls go:

Dale Dick á Pitbull

Canadian Summer: Dale, Dick [one–each] à Pitbull : context from the last scientist to walk with Gordo Sullivan on the moon follows, stick around. BREXIT defections continue, Simone Fredericks reports from the trenches in South Africa, with a young Trevor Noah in Guatemala, vía Guam, America’s first hour of the day… lets hope that Zero–hour no termine en GUAMazos.

We haven’t had that Spirit here, since like 1972, Mr Reed.

Dear, Sen. Kennedy, with a Southern Triangle Twang, let mí tell you a Tale, it is about a young South African talking head who dared asked the NEtFlix crowd to finish all the ‘Stans before installing new batteries on an ol’crap shoot D.A.R.E. Sure, sure, around a tail–gate party it’s all fun and games talking all that honky hog wash about having the Iranians “pinned–down”, and this, my young boy, Skippy Scarborough, is why the fucking Persian Gulf needs [NOT] to be beefed up with perfectly positioned garrisoned troops in Guam, especially on an Eve like like today, because you fucking warmongers know what day tomorrow is, right?

—and Pitbull goes:

It’s Dale, Dick [One–Each] Day, boss.

You know the scale, you fuckers Copyrighted the lyrics… and Bryan Wilson harmonized it with:

DON’T WORRY, Baby… your daddy is Rich, and your mother is a  whore [scratch that America]… and your mother is a WAR, a WAR. Your daddy is Rich and Your mother, America, is War ; Trevor Noah says that, that is what you is.

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