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    There once was a man who was missing a banana-shaped gland in his medulla oblongotta. So small, yet without it the moralistic thought is impossible. He was born that way at E-boo labs, as, Mr. I. M. Amoral.

One day in March 2017

   One day Ira, ( his preferred name) was at work, age 18 after graduating high school, hauling crap in a barrel to a dumpster at the ground floor of the new Hoo Didley tower, made by Hofman, 3 miles high in Key West.

    Now Key West was patheticly trying to underdo Dubai, yet have this one great phallic tower, higher than ALL!

  This is the floor Ira worked on:

image

Maybe not a very good picture, but I wanted you to see as he sees it.

Well…

    So Ira’s coworkers decided to lunch at Florida’s Waka Waka Gentlemen’s bar. They ate lobster, ate sandwiches, drank beer, drank vodka. Ira had half of a beer. And a sandwich. The topless waitress knocked over his coke with her big breast swinging in… and was embarassed.

    The guys laughed and made crass remarks. Ira excused himself to the hall restroom. The topless woman was there. Before she could say a word, Ira lifted his shirt to his chest. He said, “I was once bumped into and mocked.”

    “There’s nothing there,” she said, a little irritated. As his coworkers carried him away, he said out loud, “heart.” The waitress smiled.

Elevator

All the other 16 men on the construction elevator were drunk. #17, Ira, was sober.
The elevator was a construction elevator with no door.

The operator, Bill Kipperplatteronite, was the most drunk and slept and stopped the elevator. So Ira looked around for ninja lint. AH!!- a vinyl cord. 1000 feet long. He tied a web wall at the entrance. He bound them in!

They would not fall now! No way. So the supervisor said, Ira, “What are you doing?”. Ira called the Hofman ground base for an emergency override on Elevator G.

The men realised what was going on- that they’d be fired for sure. “If you walk out the last stop, floor 67, you can sober…”

He was about to say “sober up.” Instead, Gnarf Hurdsome hit him in the neck, taking his life. Ira fell. He was dead. The whole lot decided to throw him out the webby door. He just fit. And he fell.

Later many stories were told

    The men said Ira fell. But in the Provincial building a secretary had seen the whole thing. She thought, “This sober man protects the rest who are tripping toward death. They… push him out! No! No no no no…. oh ohhh.
(Crying) That is ill.”

     Her boss says, “Looking out the window all day? Are we?”

     But it was Mr. Provincial who listened AFTER that first distrustful statement of his, who called the police and told the truth.

☆       calling all angels       ☆

How do YOU stand up like a mega man or a sassy woman for what YOU believe in?

Our forefathers have said, “Risk your neck to be a hero?”
No, they have not.
Who does? Who does?

Interspacial dominance- the dominance of dominating no single person, but protection…

These silver keys to the kingdom I would trust with a child. Manifold mission of the human annoyed “wanting-to-bitch-slap but refrain” is an American ninjitsu medidation.

If you understood this story…
Go! Now! Make haste! Light a candle! AUGH!!! … or just realize that you are.. a biomechanical organic heat machine with a heartbeat.

Take your temp.
Are you over 95°F?- yay. you are alive. a living candle.

|z| 2014 | any under 95° F, go to ER. THAT is hypothermia.

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