And if his incredulous tone of voice was not enough to convince you out there that Ben Carson’s story isn’t true, Trump then went to do a crime scene reenactment.
here we can see that Florida is actually a poorly written artificial data matrix, as evidenced by this poorly rendered police vehicle clipping through the environment due to similation processor loads being too high during the rainy season.
The removal of Pluto from the planet category is pretty much the modern version of Skyrim’s Divines controversy.
Pluto the mighty! Pluto the unerring! Pluto the unassailable! To you we give praise! We are but maggots, writhing in the filth of our own corruption! While you have ascended from the dung of mortality, and now walk among the stars!
But you were once planet! Aye! And as planet, you said, “Let me show you the power of Pluto, born of the North, where my breath is long winter. I breathe now, in royalty, and reshape this land which is mine. I do this for you, my people, for I love you.”
Aye, love. Love! Even as a dwarf planet, great Pluto cherished us. For he saw in us, in each of us, the future of Earth! The future of the Universe! The very idea is inconceivable to our astronomer overlords! Sharing the heavens with us? With man? Ha! They can barely tolerate our presence on earth!
Today, they take away your faith. But what of tomorrow? Do the astronomers take your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very lives?
So rise up! Rise up, children of Earth! Rise up! Embrace the word of mighty Pluto, he who is both man and Planet! For we are the children of man! And we shall inherit both the heavens and the earth! And we, not the astronomers or their toadies, will rule Earth! Forever!
Terrible and powerful Pluto! We, your unworthy servants, give praise! For only through your grace and benevolence may we truly reach enlightenment! And deserve our praise you do, for we are one! Ere you ascended and the Eight became Nine, you walked among us, great Pluto, not as god, but as planet!
Trust in me! For I am the chosen of Pluto! I alone have been anointed by the Ninth to spread his holy word!
Captain Von Trapp and I are very sorry to inform you that we no longer plan to wed. We offer our deepest apologies to those of you who have already made plans to travel to Salzburg this summer.
Those of you on the Captain’s side of the guest list are probably aware of the reason for the change of plans. I’m sure by now you have received that charming “Save the date!” card in the shape of a mountain goat from the Captain and his new fiancée, Maria.
I must confess to being rather blindsided by the end of our relationship. It seems Captain Von Trapp and I misunderstood each other. I assumed he was looking for a wife of taste and sophistication, who was a dead ringer for Tippi Hedren; instead he wanted to marry a curtain-wearing religious fanatic who shouts every word she says.
But I don’t want you to be angry at him. We are all adults here. “But Baroness,” so many of my friends have said, “you must be devastated. You yourself are fabulously wealthy, so you cannot have wanted the Captain for his money—you must have truly loved him.” It’s true. But so, I am sure, does his new fiancée, his children’s nanny. Her wardrobe is made of curtains. She’s definitely not a gold digger or anything.
I’m sorry. That was crude of me. She seems like a lovely person, and she and the children have a great deal in common.
A great, great, great deal.
Since I will no longer be a part of their lives, I do hope you will all keep an eye on the Captain’s children. I am not terribly maternal but I was very fond of them in my own way and I must admit I am worried what will become of them now that I have gone. I had planned to send them to boarding school, since their education at the moment seems to consist mostly of marching around Salzburg singing scales. I think it would have been particularly helpful for the eldest daughter, who seems intent on losing her virginity to the mailman.
Please, friends, don’t worry about me. While I was a bit startled to be thrown aside for someone who flunked out of nun school, I assure you that I will be fine, and my main pursuits in life shall continue to be martinis, bon mots, and looking fabulous. You’ll also be glad to know I have retained custody of the Captain’s hard-drinking gay friend, Max. Anyone who gets tired of sing-a-longs should feel free to look us up.
Again, my deepest apologies for this disruption to your plans. I am currently sorting through the wedding gifts we’ve already received and I will send them back as soon as possible. The Captain would help, but he is busy learning to play a song about cuckoo clocks on his guitar.
Meg's Mumbles 