The Kroft Was No Prairie Home Companion

Maybe some things are best put under the microscope in a military creativity online.  The worst of the firsts would be at the tender age of 6.  As you all look in the mirror, you become more grandiose every minute, every hour, every day.  My skull did not long for you, your cruelty was grotesque.  I was just a being of creativity, proper etiquette, and light.  The fun you took in my destruction, on the grounds and off, was unable to be understood, thus not processed by anybody.  Every time, it was five.  The bolder, by itself was masculine and beautiful.  Your nudity and sexuality of this nonsense play was demented, and was a disgrace to the nature of the space.  I will stay in the land of my own dignity, and keep this a gentle sketch and no longer put you in a position of neither power nor notoriety.  Natives were in the trees, and now they are on their knees.  They entertained that you all were alien beings because no part of humanity was there.  I bend the tree branch down today, look out, and say that I am a little stunted in the moment, but I am okay.  You all can broadcast my middle finger today, and know that even Brad Pitt will not play.  You lives, your comfort, and your careers are over over over, and I do not mean over the moon.  I pull down a star and sit you all inside to burn for all of eternity.