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I'm conflicted between putting my hand on my face while shaking my head in frustration with running to my window, shutting my blinds, grab my baseball bat and pray the men in black won't suspect me blowing up their conspiracy.
I think I'll do both. Although I might be a little hard to shut the blinds and grab my bat with my hand over my face and shaking my head, but I'll manage somehow........
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Whence September dusk grows crisper still,
with leaves all crimson conquered,
I yearn to shout,
and dance about,
and stick pickles in my honker...
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