Weekly feature by: Ben Nardolilli

Who fell into here? Is this who we have to choose from? This is no grand jury. Just a chorus.
You, Judge, you’re the ringleader of this set. What a massive ballot box
they compile together. Eyeballs and blackballs. Over here the defendant has too much
loneliness. Shall I perform all kinds of impressions of happy little trees?

My cornucopia is too old for this. Could we do this on a Saturday? I’m debating taking
a happy father’s day off. I don’t empower anybody unless they can identify
the gunman. Google is honoring the wrong conceptual horse.
Fixing to be a broken night. This is the obtaining of property from a sovereign citizen.

I never got the gun. That was a dream song. I was trying to boost military morale with a Woody Allen
monologue. I’m surprised any of you even know what guilt is. We’re so far
from Hannah Arendt now. We’re completely sober too. Tonight’s plans
to be naked, fatbellied, and smelling of ash will have to wait by the curb for pickup.

Chorus, make up your minds. Did I conspire, confederate, or combine to obtain,
withhold, take, or hold? Did I do it to forge a writing, to wit: a check with full prejudice towards
the rights willingly failing to appear? I’m worried you’re missing the big one.
Fraudulent use of a third person to utter or attempt to employ a true possession of a schedule.


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