Cakemakers

Gateway drugs and experiences have no bearing on our ralphymeters today or any other day (as far as we know), though I’m going to need you to disengage in trivial pursuits for long enough get a read on just why it is that cakemakers hold no stations below law-enforcement.

The answer is easy enough to reach, you simply need to focus your attentions where they can really do some investigative good.

All right, I’ll have to just tell you then, if that’s going to be your attitude.

When you strip it all bare, the contemporary American cakemaker is commonly behooved to fabricate goods for the purpose of selling them at the market. Law-enforcers make it their business to interrupt people’s activities and impose limitations upon them, resulting in a streak of pride and occasional lawlessness. Paid to uphold the law, they often embody the viewpoint that certain laws don’t apply to them, sometimes culminating in displays of pseudo-authority that end up with dead people on their hands (or at least as a result of their handiwork).

Cakemakers just have to crack a few eggs.

Beefeater

“Turn strange, fair beefeater,”
Curtisson mentioned on the car ride
over to the museum. “Your
toner-rich inconceivability
leaves behind the tragic old
misconception of the garlic-laden
bindling-gebaut, untold though
not unmade or unmasked, undeveloped,
penning the pennies through the portrait
of a golem in trouble with the law.”

Is that man’s law or God’s law?
I prefer to think of it as God slaw:
nice and crunchy with a musical quality
once it’s making its way back to the soil.

“We only have sevenscore paper clips
left in the entire warehouse; I said
we shouldn’t panic, but I was putting on
my brave face, hoping things would
turn themselves around. But they’ve just
turned strange, fair beefeater, and
we’d better figure out our whole
monument situation, pronto.”

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