We have the good burgers here in Cambridge who can’t define a driveway. Or won’t. The party line is so blurred, the sheeple of this herd in der Stadt Halle trod from one wayward path to another. They are like crag bound mountain sheep creeping and toing across a vast expansive palisade. Rock strewn and steep. Each step guided by avoidance, not direction.
So now after more than ten requests, I am still stymied by silence. While they all sing from the same song-book, including the Mayor, who in my opinion looked wan and not well, they all melodify the identical omissions. There is no standard, there are no specifications other that their shilling for the Concrete and Pavement associations and companies, there are no codes of reference, the council has not passed any agenda item, and there is no direction only opinions from bureaucrats.
Are we to that point now in Cambridge where the fox are running the hen house? The staffers are choosing direction and policy? Why bother with the elected? I can think of a relatively recent decline of a union of republics which had such a structure. The small cabal of leaders were not at the top for any direction or policy, merely to revel in the misery they could create for the peons.
Oh, by the way, the wall fell back when the actor Reagan was POTUS, and the aforementioned regime fell not long after that.
We could only hope that control can return to the elected officials at some time.
Still waiting.
Still waiting.
Still waiting.
Oh go ahead and pour it Mildred, I need the Java jab to my spirit.
Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau.
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