is not something the public is interested in seeing.
They get tears, confabulations, outbursts and exposure.
This could happen to anybody.
One minute, you're talking about high pressure.
The next, Woody with Sports enrages you with his talk of baseball and
basketball; his death seems mandated
Listen to me and learn, Grasshopper.
Just backpedal through the studio doors two minutes ahead of the cops.
Take over the crosswalk from the street preachers
and roll with it.
The arrest of a weatherman is not a common thing.
Tazed, his delivery becomes staccato and shrill, disturbing, mad.
If it begins to rain, oh then the cops will need him,
the station will be contrite,
But if the sun stays out,
all day, all night,
the whole Universe will have lost its mind and the Weatherman,
installed at last as Supreme Commander,
will have his revenge upon
the European Model,
and every trend and anomaly that unhinged and changed him.
Try voice command then.
Try the mute button then,
you worms, writhing expectantly under the shadow of his unstoppable boot.
a compound of idiocy and nonsense for real toads.