Palin and her lackey Dixon are running out of excuses for explaining a special entitlement program milking a deaf poet's brains with Ultrahigh to gratify the AIDS plan by sneering at porno in Section 8.
Leslie Katz had an incident in France. A man grabbed her by the arm and dragged her. In her hallucinations she began claiming it was me. I've never been to France but for one afternoon with my mother.
Matt Marcus by contrast was so attenuated to her crime that he scrawled, "Beat me, beat me, make me write bad checks" on the elevator to his loft, where Leslie took me with the words, "Hide here under my cloak," the autumn after the letter I sent to her about our breakup. Marcus would sit there burning girls gangrenous with fireplace pokers and talk of punching the campus cop while his loft mate Ben sported far out Hollywood scars on his belly.
In their mania and guilt, seething that early warning would have availed nobody they taunt to prove them wrong by ignoring Miss Beautiful Kyogen until the situation is brought under control. 25 years after the Great Backstab, Palin and her Senegalese mutt, an itinerant hater they call Mr. President, still moist with panty dew for Dr. King's assassins, want safe sex abolished, too.
What's the scam? Pretty typical for them. AIDS was a coercive tactice, you see.