CLICHES

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What goes round comes round.  We are what and when we eat, drink smoke and inhale it.  What is past is prologue especially if we don’t learn from it the first time around.  Just say no isn’t working and education abandoned student fulfillment with “No Child Let Behind.”

K.I.S.S. like Rand Paul is an oversimplification for which Mitt can flip a severely conservative complication: three losses to a woman’s place is in the home, barefoot and in the kitchen, God Wills It, Rick Santorum.

Every action has a reaction and there are more things in life than are understood in a Wall Street Banksta’s philosophy of Edward G. Robinson’s Key Largo’s “yeah, that’s right, I want more” in Key Largo’s Rocky.

The enemy at the gates lives within and chasing tail is a fulltime job when, our own.  It’s a dog’s life unless your poison of choice is fast food cheese burgers ground by human assembly line of waste without bathroom breaks, slipping in more than cow shed blood.

For every Harry Potter, there’s a Henry F. Potter snapping great white media jaws at the heels of any Mr. George Bailey going to Washington to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth before Jim Crow descendents in living color can lose your black and white photo ID.

All’s quiet on the Democratic front for Jesus is passing by in a fly over as same sex marrying California divorces “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, lingering in the belief that we shall overcome if the help is separate but equal somewhere over the rainbow of Palin stolen Obama red, white and blue one America of change we can believe in.

The Maine thing to remember is there are still enough District of Columbia Conservatives to CPAC the house vote against gray ghost Grover Norquist tax increases for those who can never liquidate what they have in off shore accounts in a Methuselah lifetime of David slingshots at the ready for board rooms with 25 billion less mixing up inhumane brew to justify the end of angels and demons with cauldrons of radioactive Iranian oil, tossing poisoned moonshine eyes of newt, holding squeezed Conservative noses self-righteously heavenward, lacking any sense of repentance drown us all in double, double toil and trouble.

There are none so blind as those who will not see the sea of change that’s gonna come, oh yes it is.  We move our money to reverse their debit card fees, and they counter attack with Trumped up blobs fired off to charge us for taking our money from their cold dead hands.

From sea to shining sea spewing foul oiled fowl and deadsea fish, we part the red sea for those destined to be blowing in the wind of indebted servitude to the same house of cards dealing from both sides of the two headed coins.

No matter what Bank of America, Wells Fargo and their gang of cancerous infested lack of humanity oozes onto our tea stained land of the free, we the 99% are the captains of our soul, and lifting every voice we sing fond adieu to traitors of “Out of Many, One,” and sad farewell to one 48, clichéd by drugs, Whitney Houston.

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