[Leisler]

Let me get O’l Blood And Gut’s Mittens right.

Ah hem.

So, there’s this wood pulp, made into flakes, pages. Scribbles in ink are pressed on it. Then their bound in glue, or thread, and covered in cardboard, or vinal. Maybe pleather for the rich.

And it’s burned. Somewhere. By the people that own the pages. A few bucks.

Now, a ten thousand miles away, some wackjob thus decides to kill people, ‘cause somebody toasted his personal property .

And we should bow down to these guys, or Mitt should or would. And he wants to be ‘Commander In Chief’.

Yeah.

[jazminerose]

Well, he’d still be a stronger CIC that that piece of junk we’ve got now.

[trisham]

And we should bow down to these guys, or Mitt should or would. And he wants to be ‘Commander In Chief’.

************************

That scares me.