Coleen Numbletewth, a long-time favorite in the donkey factories, author of such sleepy wonders as "It's Biting Me" and "Oh, My Knee," was recently dumbfounded by what she found at her front doorstep. (Well, it's not really much of a doorstep, more of a driveway, or a driveway with a fear of intimacy. It's sort of an unfortunate condition for a driveway, and kind of makes it more of a driveaway. The newspaper delivery person refuses to set foot on it, because there's something psychologically damaging about being rejected by a slab of concrete.) Anyway, back to the recount of Numbletewth (ah-ha-ha, 1,2,3-basso profundo). The Daily Donkey reports that there has been a nasty outcry about what some of the public (those outside of the donkey factories, because she has a horizontalizing effect on those within them), see as her frequent leanings towards limbcentrism in her texts. While these horrible accusations were nothing short of shocking, Numbletewth had to address them quickly, because being seen as a limbist could be devastating for any public figure.
You see, in this dismal time of the donkey factory, there are an increasing number of limb-related injuries and complete disfigurements due to the ungenerous (or maybe too generous) nature of the manufacturing process of the donkeys. For this reason, the world is divided into a number of camps, but the three most general are the limbed, the semi-limbed, and the limbless. As one might guess, those in the limbed category are generally more capable of disseminating information, due to the limbcentric nature of our current information propagation machinery. While knowledge of this discrepancy may be found in the cerebral murks of what most people consider as "known by their person," it is not generally emitted in public as an individual vocal projection by those whose physical being poses a question when referring to limbs, and it certainly is not disseminated by those with seminiferous limbs. Thus, as you can see, to bear this inequality into the town squares--or what is, more precisely, ever since the Urban Cloaking System defeated the center-oriented grids where people lived in close proximity, irregularly-shaped and -distributed concrete blankets of pomp and stadium seating with sporadic population--is to illuminate a hangnail or an ingrown hair follicle in the pink-purple light of the donkey factory night.
Truly, truly, what a sight. Oh my, what a horrible blight. Something bites me in the night. Tiss, tiss, a bumbling fright. (These last lines are more entertaining if you mouth them in a Winnie the Pooh voice; honey can be an efficient mouth motion manipuator).
You see, in this dismal time of the donkey factory, there are an increasing number of limb-related injuries and complete disfigurements due to the ungenerous (or maybe too generous) nature of the manufacturing process of the donkeys. For this reason, the world is divided into a number of camps, but the three most general are the limbed, the semi-limbed, and the limbless. As one might guess, those in the limbed category are generally more capable of disseminating information, due to the limbcentric nature of our current information propagation machinery. While knowledge of this discrepancy may be found in the cerebral murks of what most people consider as "known by their person," it is not generally emitted in public as an individual vocal projection by those whose physical being poses a question when referring to limbs, and it certainly is not disseminated by those with seminiferous limbs. Thus, as you can see, to bear this inequality into the town squares--or what is, more precisely, ever since the Urban Cloaking System defeated the center-oriented grids where people lived in close proximity, irregularly-shaped and -distributed concrete blankets of pomp and stadium seating with sporadic population--is to illuminate a hangnail or an ingrown hair follicle in the pink-purple light of the donkey factory night.
Truly, truly, what a sight. Oh my, what a horrible blight. Something bites me in the night. Tiss, tiss, a bumbling fright. (These last lines are more entertaining if you mouth them in a Winnie the Pooh voice; honey can be an efficient mouth motion manipuator).
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