Those who adjust to the changing times the fastest…

Well, you’ve heard all that.

Play one culture against another for no other reason than to measure the change to the global ecosystem, narrowing down the possible parameter limits for derivations in Fourier furrier harrier carriers.

Pretend to be part of both the establishment and the opposition and yet be nothing but nobody.

Set up the lowest bidder for failure to prove that the process is fixed and broken at the same time.

Assure that hidden flaws can and will be prosecuted.

These lessons are repeated for those who refuse to listen so that those who listen can take note of right of first refusals.

The first shall be the last.

My happiness is guaranteed to get a laugh.

At whose expense?

Who will pay the pickled pie pedlar?

Do you know if I can or can’t smell change on the wind?

Have the programmers kidnapped these last couple of blog entries to spare you some change of their own?

Would you know if you were part of the real plot of “Marathon Man”?

Let them see your smile and you’ve cast Basil Herringbone to play the role of the original Aborigine.

Bury clues for your future self to know what to do next without having to think about what next to think.

Can you be hexed with hexadecimals?

Can you be vexed by convex decongestants?

The first chocolate/white chocolate cookies out of the convection oven will always taste better than the rest but are they the best?

I gave up a week of the headlines game with pals to spend time with me here.

I re/learned more about me.

Where will I next sink the teeth of my network into?

Who or what will I expose and make no difference in the way our civilisations have operated for aeons, part of the system by default of my own?

The ready-to-wear, one-size-fits-all emperor’s new clothes are Martinized and good as new.

You’re invited to your own roasting.  Please provide your own basting.  No boasting, please.  You’re wasting my time coasting on Proust’s mostly ghostly hosts’ roosts making toast.