Incoming

It is said WFB would not cross the street without one.

As far as the Spotsyltuckian is concerned, not only is there one at the lab whilst blood is drawn, and at the garage during the annual Inspection, there is one stashed strategically at multiple clandestine locations so as to be conveniently at hand day and night.

It constitutes a major disturbance, a Class 3 hurricane, in fact, when immigrants must be accomodated into limited cordoned-off space.

At first it seems impossible.

An hysterical mob shouts "Miscellaneous!"

This clearly won't do.

A plan is negotiated in the small hours of a long session.

If 'Great-Idea' Adler plants his fat behind in the corner, and the Reformers and Jacobins march in to his right (indeed our Fat-A's done been criticized enough, already, for exalting Western thought above the others), therein lies a map to a renewed sense of familarility for all concerned.

This proves compatible to the schemes of the malleable American politicians reclining upstairs and below our Writer-exemplars.

Now it's possible for the transitional Europeans, John Henry Newman, portly John Ruskin, the Victorians, et al., to imperialize, claiming not one, but two, leaving, not unexpectedly, the Russians, isolated, paranoia confirmed.

Elie Wiesel slips in imperceptibly next to beloved Talmudic scholars alongside a multitude of eccumenical theologians engaged non-stop in what we can only hope is fruitful dialogue.

Undisturbed are the evil ones residing next to the story tellers, Latin, mostly, who make better sense of Fascists, than the Philosophers, above and to their right, or Left if it comes to that, by plumbing the depths of far mystical realms.

Founders and Civil War veterans guard the door while slaves enduring the Middle Passage speak truth to power.

All is as it was meant to be, once more, except tomorrow another wave of immigrants sails for Standhill House.