According to the Klan's caricaturing stereotypes, Blacks are uneducated negroid monkeys with caveman-like faces complete with a slobbering prognathous jaw, Jews are penis-nosed penny-pinchers who are more interesting in saving a cent or arguing over a certain Levitical pesher than helping out those in need, Arabs are turban-touting Muslim extremists whose plans of anti-American jihadist subterfuge could be enacted at any moment, and Whites are God-fearing, Satan-blinding angels, birthed in the "purest," "most lucent," and "holiest" of the colored races.
The youth of today seem to be filled with an ethereal, air-headed mindedness which subists solely on a diet of production-line artificialities, namely the never-ending treadmill of body-image ectypes, of luxoriously ruffled bosoms and fantastically furbelowed fannies of callipygous construction; yesterday's idol was shaped with stick and stone, today's is printed on paper.
After a series of onomatopoeia -- *CRASH* -- curses -- "Fuck." -- and breakages of the second commandment -- "God DAMN it!" -- Detective Holstoy lit a smoky Cuban cigar and calmed himself down, focusing on exactly who the unsub could be, what sort of dirty linen could have instigated his murder of the prostitute Ally Hemmings, and why the evidence was either so god-damn nonexistant or so god-damn metempirical that they couldn't find it.
Unnatural -- like a virga in a thunderstorm or a hurricane evaporating on the spot -- that's what darkness is; after its daily ritual of murdering and hiding away the sun, it seeps through my flimsy, chintzy curtains to come awaken my dreaded nyctophobia, to come etiolate my once-vibrant sanity, to come murder me, its next victim -- a victim of sleep.
The motives behind Alexander the Great's impetuous goal to Mediterraneanize the entire known world have always vexed historians, but a recent theory -- proposed by none other than yours truly -- reminds Hellenisto-historicists that Alexander the Great was once merely an Alexander and always merely a man, a human susceptible to the occasional midnight thanatopsis and its resulting hellish nightmares of Clootie and his demon minions eternally tearing apart the souls of those who accomplished nothing with their lives.
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