The first and largest of the palm tree’s missiles, for I believe them to be so, has morphed into a new, and elegant , palm frond. Do not be fooled. It is a ruse, a deceit, an unsportsmanlike attempt to disguise itself until such time it is heinously deployed by an agency so foul that even the Persians cringe in fear. You know of whom I speak.
Unfortunately there are two other missiles developing in the palm tree. As Brantley , of the BrantleyBlog commented to me, “it’s an aggressive tree”. You hit the nail on the head, Brantley. Just consider, everyone, there are a lot of palm trees in Florida. Surely (which reminds me: surely you should be dead hibiscus is blooming) this palm is not the only one that has been compromised. I’ll give you a hint by which you might identify the cabal of draconian agents who serve a lame duck oligarchy : it begins with “N”. It is not coincidental that the missiles grow so close to the home of a blogger! This is not just another conspiracy theory. This is a Kafkaesque extravaganza!
Credo quia absurdum est: I believe it because it is absurd. Missiles growing in palm trees is symptomatic of the “violence inherent in the system” (Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 1975), The occupants of the bastion of supreme power is the atavistic hegemony whose villainy is far-reaching. Maybe even as far as the internet. Let us not forget Fahrenheit 451. Book burning not only could happen here– it has been happening: Harry Potter books and, illegally, the Quran. Granted, those burnings were undertaken by dimwitted religious groups yet, the fiendish hegemony did nothing. I’m telling you, it is Kafkaesque. One night you go to bed normal and in the morning you wake up a dung beetle, unable to get out of bed. I t’s precipitated by daylight savings time, so I am told. Happens all the time in Belarus and Ukraine, which stay in DST, ad infinitum.
I will keep you informed regarding the palm tree issue. Unless I’ve gone missing. In which case I’ve probably been taken from my garden by the nefarious hegemony; thrown in a cargo plane and dropped in the middle of the Amazon, where I befriend Indigenous people (who are only one generation distant from their cannibal ancestors) who could take me downriver to meet with a confederate on a beach in Rio. Or not.