There's no reaching some people. I've done all that I can for my people. Until they expand their vocabulary, beyond that of a Cuban trull, many simple things will baffle them.
Johnny Cash sang about a porter yet at no time was there more to it than waking up people when the train rolled into Dixie. The song {"Hey, Porter!"} didn't allude to touching, though Cash's love for the South was. He captured the feeling of what it was like to be a hick {red neck}, to knock up your wife's sister, to indulge one's self in the inappropriate behavior sophisticated northern-types castigate people for.
Killing unborn infants is a job for abortionists. That's why we have medical schools: to kill unborn infants. You can't expect them to kill themselves. [It's too bad that Yoko doesn't play the banjo.] Truly, the elitists are not shy about proclaiming their designs. In "Memoirs," nonagenarian David Rockefeller wrote that he's "guilty as charged" in pushing for a "new world order."

Books by Richard Thripp:

1. The Future Unquiet
2. Trans-Unicorn
3. Love Turns Hateful
4. Things Between Times
5. Summer in July
6. The Man with Two Eyes
7. Along the Far Climb Down
8. These Things Terrestrial
9. The Pregnancy Slaves
10. Finally the Night
11. The Man with T.V. Eyes
12. As Easy as Easy is
13. Suffer in July
14. Simmer in July
15. Paradise on Land
16. Transliterated Jumblement
17. Easing Into Difficulties
18. An Affirmation of the Conclusion
19. The Rebounding World
20. Things That Remain as Such
21. The Celestial Embodiment of Goodness
22. Agony in Crisis
23. Icons of Teleplay
24. Pigs of Slave Island