American Dinner, an ethos.

Jimmy Carter joined the Pony Express, and another at his own indolent place lazing on the tracks in his cap and shirtsleeves; the proverbial contramanding: preventing, then showing anew the light unto its hidden stores of Duke's mayonnaise, le couture.

Singular locusts are in fact nothing, each unto himself, but in combination, the totality of the hungry insects clattering indolent wings, as in the Michael Crichton novel Prey, the being is a nested doll noxious density of cabbage-pantied hairspray cloud.

Was found not the faults in our stars, the cabal, perturbing much ado, dispute, repute taking the guise of dispute, and the like, and where Monticello sightlessly-peered into its own dustcloud, there was yet a George Sale ascribed Quran, instead of Judge Judy and folded dollars. The trivial melds into the trivia of a cabal that was not discouraged businessmen but its antithesis of would be Joan of Arcs atwitter, sparing themselves the stick, and like the curs they are, rusing their captors into the flame. Ascribed upon his character his reading materials, of course, and not the learning of many subjects for learning's own appetites to be fulfilled: not that, but said to be odd things he endorsed or expounded upon in his own life?

Fie on such.

Fret not and take heart for steamed vegetables and cheese dust are where you find them, still.

Our American Success Story, addendum:

Coca Cola circa 1985, stagnant in sales, yet iconic in its branding: an elder statesman of commerce. A known quantity, and familiar to so many Americans, it was. Until it wasn't, in the guise of a changed product, the new Coke. The public outcry in response provoked the corporate overlords to return the beloved branding, and restore the world famous product. It seemingly reinvigorated American interest in the product they knew so well, and had began to take for granted.

Today Coke and Diet Coke outsell all of its competitors. It's chief soft drink space competition teeters on the edge of its own change due to languishing sales--its own possible reinvention.

It was just one more thing Middle America would not have changed, for sake of, if not nostalgia, but a hedge against fogbanks of a unknown future: a moat between the immodest, immoderate foxes that smell their dinner. And to those foxes, things that never mattered to them anyway they would amend in ways in which remove the prior charm of well-known quantities.

Of Richard Balfor and the bruised consumer-level.

Once in a small farming community, 

the murder rate spiked to 25%, 

and violent crime to a corresponding 25%.

Punishment for capital crime was banishment.

"Richard Balfor" studied the area, government productivity sample

noting infamously inverse agrarian output and local educational resources.

"Surely there exist deficiencies."

Smudging budgets for begrudging fudges

As is said, "some people adroitly just talk about it, and some people grope around in the dark." And recently a celeb said the perspective was very good from the pinnacle. I postulate further that such position place's one such that everyone "wants what he got".

A new wave of consumer-level fiscal advice lights the way towards Citizenship 101 curriculum in the shadow of the guard towers structures of the school system visages.

Shuffling hustles maps happiness and naps to flaps, buffed gaps, muzzling indulgence; heap your sleep or peek at needs.

Idle hands put to good use, as it were, Thoreau noted that many were more oriented to chopping wood than the reading of books. But he was an infamous tax cheat and self-confessed loafer.

guttersnipery, chiggery, buttery, confusery.

Play my entrance bongos.

Nameless self-convicting wonder of this modern age, in preponderance of his own insomnulent imagination, sin unto dirge, Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil: a balancer of untruths. Few enough armchair Kierkegaards cajole or roam the dusky plains in what would be “self-less guttersnipery”, to the worst of his ontology, the disbelief of his own daydreaming….

The guttersnipe selects his involuble charge.

(Odd. I knew this word, something of the 16th century, without any idea of its textual usage: I smell a certain Southern stream-of-consciousness writer.)

Chair of the desk, at his mess, in a contradictory smiling rage—joker grin, with his joke being that he began at all, methods unsound, in diction of archaic words, nested phrases, bald-faced duplicity, and, of course, foreign phrases.

Its quite like finding a chigger’s ass-button hole-in-the-wall butter reasons for buttery stockpiles of greenbacks from his buttery working: its not like he’s gonna use it.

Locating one’s modus.

The guttersnipe could apply himself to finding the nap-nose of his own fuse, too.