Make France Neanderthal Again

it was in that exact moment that i realized that america was much like france (farnce) in that our God was Raymond Roussel who wore two distinct types of shirt, the bespoke and the tele-fitted, and that these two types of shirts called "republicans and democrats" were given away freely by Roussel basically as trash after only wearing them for a single day each so that the sad little grubby faced american citizens could wear a custom human body shirt once owned by Raymond Roussel (God, or the Qabbala of Lettrism).. to put their grubby little stubby fingered paws out through the wrist holes of a Mitch McConnull or a Nancy Peplosive folding back her droopy sack-like head as a hoodie. it was also in that supreme moment that i noticed that the amazon neanderthal witch woman tribe had finally found me, or at least my cave, and were now gracefully piloting their wooly mammoth mounts into its massive graceful gothic and vaulted cathedral like opening, a vast and maw-like opening where whole colonies of bats might drift through its all-seeing purview as a thin waft of smoke from a candle blown out by the wind while sitting on an old wooden casement window painted white using lead paint. i had been there for 25 years living off cave fungus, bats, and salamanders, and had developed some magic of my own, but mostly it involved travelling astrally to distant realms by the method of iynge trance.. I had seven great iynge wheels of bronze and leather each 7 foot across, and their whirring was enough to send one's skeleton floating gently up from the jelly chains, but here i am looking up at Magayiddayama, the fiercest Amazon Neanderthal Witch Queen in the 7 valleys sitting carefully astride her snow white mammoth on a bizarre and formless saddle of woven tapestry, trinkets, fetishes, and human skulls. We stare at each other through oceans of Aeons and dead nations, long dead species and whirling planets, etc.. finally Magayiddayama speaks to me: Sorry to bother you, but have you happened to have seen a small black cat, a kitten really? I pointed to the back of the cave where the enormous kitten had decided to lay down its graceful fifty foot long all black sabre-toothed body along with the centipede moose thing it had dragged in to eath, err eat. Earth! cried Magayiddayama, raising her elaborate wrist-mounted spinning bone staff contraptions in joyful triumph.. Then she laughed cruelly and looked at me. And kill this bloody hippy right away! What a waste of a man-shirt.. Sorry! she says and smiles.. I'm already sprinting for my secret escape tunnel I keep lined with snail goo and licorice leaves.. I'm gone. I've got crash caves set up all over the seven valleys.. A few bonfires and cannibal orgies and these witches will get bored with my cave and leave.. I can wait.



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