Why Does it Stink Like Grape kOOl-aid in here?

Letter from Grandpa from the beyond, sent through James True.

Dear Readers, thank you for being here.  I should say that more often.  I’m sorry for all the cream pies to the face, I know it’s not polite, and I really do appreciate you putting up with me, and sometimes even pressing like.  I know some of you are real people, not just bots or spies, and I don’t think about that enough.  It’s cool that you’re still here with all my weird ravings about conspiracies, and bad poetry (sometimes on purpose, it’s a trick, now you have a secret I’ve been keeping), and just in general not being good enough.

James is right you know.  Even if he’s planning to start a cult, he’s still right.  Know more.  Do better.  Wise up! Look who you’re up against.  You’re hardly even a fly in their cellar.  You’re a like a maggot about to pecked up by a hen.  You’re snooping around their closets like a raving idiot.  Who wants that, come on now.  Of course you’re going to piss them off eventually, so you better back off, or buck the fuck up.  (James added that bad word Gramps, I swear it wasn’t me.)

Man up, woman!  This is a dojo, whether you like it or not.


Author: KenshoHomestead

Creatively working toward self-sufficiency on the land.

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