My Goodness

Of course, all I'm trying to do is shove that vulgarity to Page Two, away from all these ripe discussions and riffs, and off into further obscurity. You see, no reply from either end of the spectrum pretty much rendered its intention useless, leaving it naked, like an ex-slave in the sun, and awaiting the lash of further scrutiny; thus this. Nevertheless, its glaring pictorial stain does help break up the monotony a tad. Oh and while I'm here: whoever's in charge, can you align certain fates — stopping lifts, delaying buses, to name two — and allow some Fancy Seeing, along with renewed verbosity, uplifted appeal, extraordinary superhuman abilities and a wad of stinking cash? Well, some of it.

It's interesting how utterly pathetic pop's favourite word is unless expressed mutually, don't you think? That quavering voice between frenzied fists on altar glass— Really, I think we should all thank God that we haven't yet roamed into such ugly situations. And possibly thank him, too, for the lion's share of skirts. For all we know he could be a very reasonable guy. Worth a shot, at any rate.