Looko here at your droogle Donny, clutching his yarbles, getting all up in your zemstvos about the great weeply patron of being stuck rhomboldly to intersecting slabs of high grade cocobolo. Oh your old Donnie knows its bibbles and its saintses and its iconographies about as aptlike as young Donnie glued pagination after pagination of glossy titspielunkers together with his yarblocko junior juice.

Believe me, oh my little brothers, and you, too, will straddle gold to grunt it. You will wipe your missmudges on roseswatered prayer nappies.

Speaking of the auld AU, please note the object of my most fatheringly affectation, old Bigleg Ivanka, standing at the exits with the bigging plate, brimming with fortune tickers. Knock out your wallies for me honeyhips and drop a donation …