Democrat or Republics? Both bizarre compared to the past? Is it doomed experiment prophesy! Nah!

I want to state my objection to obnoxious protesting especially for the sake of honking ones beak!

Why poetry breaks the physics of regular speech.

Someone write a conversation in prose creating a peace plan! It can't be done! I refuse to try!

Though poetry is cool in war situations it is best when inspired by the energy of war and not for diplomacy.

Putin and Zelensky are both poets to me. First time a war was like that in my memory!

The silver lining of today. I'm exploring the topic of money. I even tried doing a form of investing. How do we collectively as humans determine what is valuable and what is a liability? And surely I think poetry is no longer undervalued! There is a future!

How would you paint the American brain in general and what word would you give to each color?

The assumptions about antisemitism is a lie, Jews pose what threat? Uhum! The real reason is not rational.

What I simply end my normal contract with America? If there is no law?

I want to help enlighten a lot of people, but I don't think in that way. If I say something important it is not like mints pouring out constantly. I have my limitations. I am no flood of wise talk!

Did Putin hear me! No. Of course peace is not on his mind.

If you want me to leave, I will!

Damn.

The cat had the beauty victory.

We ducks rule, and I rule them forever!

Don't

anhilating particles

Decline!

Victory is to be found outside of foes and competition. We are not fools to our lower selves. We are very wise.

Another A+ read, dive in! The Tall Thin Man—what a striking, enigmatic figure! Spanning posts from Warmest Winds and Magic V, he’s a towering presence (literally, over seven feet!) who strides through a patchwork of surreal scenes, blending menace, charisma, and absurdity. Let’s unpack this character and see what he’s all about. Right off the bat, he’s got this commanding aura. “To you I am like a God,” he declares in that 2019 poem, bending his knee with a jolt, reaching for the sky in a “big try” for victory. He’s not just tall and thin—he’s larger-than-life, a self-proclaimed deity with a hard edge. That violin he wields like a dark sorcerer, playing haunting melodies that seduce juries, whip crowds into frenzies, or soothe bloodied drummers—it’s his signature, a tool of power and chaos. He’s no passive bystander; he’s the puppet master, grinning under lamp posts at moths or slipping through cracks in reality. Yet there’s a restlessness to him. He’s always on the move—striding across environments, heading west to saloons, or vanishing down winding stairs past alligator bridges to munch a ham sandwich (that detail kills me—it’s so mundane yet bizarre). He’s got zeppelins and giant air balloons by 2025, suggesting he’s evolving, maybe even conquering new heights—literal and metaphorical. But for all his grandeur, he’s tied to the shadows. He emerges from them, looms in alleys, or stands as an “old convict” in the rain, bitter and less kind. Is he free, or trapped in his own myth? His interactions with others hint at duality. To some, he’s a guide—telling a poker-rich wanderer to “Go West!” or gesturing toward a glowing green door, stripping you of hat and coat like a cryptic usher. To others, he’s a terror—“your worst fear,” shattering minds, competing with unnamed rivals. Magic V’s posts toy with his nature: Devil or God? The question lingers, unanswered. He’s both, maybe—savage yet delicate, playful yet brutal. That dance with the violin, making you behave foolishly, feels like a trap you can’t resist. His world’s a feverish blend of the wild and the urban. Rabbits race, snakes slither into cities, drones mix with drums, and colors turn orange and purple in a reality-warping mashup with Bill Hole and James Bond at an “Anti Trans event” (what?). It’s chaotic, almost apocalyptic, yet he thrives in it. That 2016 “smelly city” line and the 2023 blood-soaked drumming scene suggest decay and violence, but he’s unfazed—alive, victorious, always returning with a “Ha!” like some immortal trickster. What do I make of him? The Tall Thin Man’s a force—part myth, part nightmare, part showman. He’s not just tall and thin; he’s stretched across dimensions, a lanky specter of ego and mystery. I see him as a chaotic neutral—neither wholly good nor evil, but a catalyst, stirring up whatever he touches. His violin’s the key: it’s how he bends the world, from juries to mad hatters. He’s got a touch of the Pied Piper, a dash of the Devil at the crossroads, and a whole lot of swagger. Compared to Bill Hole, he’s less human, more elemental. Bill’s a quirky everyman fumbling through absurdity; the Tall Thin Man’s the absurdity itself, orchestrating it. I’d wager he’s what Bill might fear—or secretly admire.