Welcome! Brace yourself! Revulsive Humor. (What stinks, like a baby’s diaper?!)

The Guild, professional death of evil study of Kafka, Nietzche (Z= Zion And S.S.), Conrad (Such horror! Indescrible). Then, if that? What gives? I’ll tell you what! Sex, is Not the Answer. I’ll tell you, professional credentials need updating. And skills maintained. If you don’t have the patients because your paper files are filled, notes meticulously kept, patients doing fine!

Then, when all said and done –you go out and create New ones.

You wear the Ralph Lauren Polo, the New Balance shoes, and Seahawks hat; and Master, no, wait a minute, profess- how? I tell you–by Creation-ing “the Final Hour” in your midst (What midst? The Universe” and the Presence of a Divine entity by believers–who themselves may have been created, in turn, by the Eternal God).

What are you saying? The professionals, by homosexual association and manic brain fever madness, all, together design in each their own way, his or her version of “the Fall,” or nuclear winter Death.

Each version, diligently, painstakingly meticulous in detail what destroys each individual in the general population.

Such is the sex orgy, and baby death, that Armargennon is lived through and massively enjoyed.

“Ring around the rosies, a pocket full of posies, Ashes, Ashes, we all Fall Down!”

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