It’s autumnal. The sagacious of us will be aware of the Orange and Redding in our midst. No Bay Dock being washed away by the tide of time here, you need to Tell The Truth. From Schomberg to Orangeville, the green belt is skirted by the colors of Benetton in this manner. The good Liberati of Ontario created a green belt, around that snugs a belt of Orange and Red.
While it has been appropriated by the aforementioned Liberati, Red is the National colour. While overexposed carrots turn red, some ripe apples turn red, some ripe grapes turn red, and some discovered transgressions turn people red. As is the newspapers; better read than dead. The Toronto Star included.
As fewer a fewer people actually read a paper paper, the news is easier spun and woven into a web defined by the writer not the reader. When subjects are consumed on the CRT, or now LCD, the mind wavers and wafts in and out of concentration with bells and whistles chiming and clamouring for your attention as are the words written.
This is not by chance. The writer wants you to buy into his digital supra-orbital ridge hair rising, which is achieved by your inability to maintain pointed concentration because of these diversions. The circus clown is an obvious example of how spinning is done. You are diverted from his motive by the funny face and big shoes, your pocket easily picked. Or the magician with his waving wand and poofing hat, leaves you watchless or penniless as he hides and obfuscates his movements onto your person or into your garb.
The red grabs as you orange our affairs to suit the state today. Tomorrow the state will make you red in the face by the cost of your next orange. The diversionary tactics at this time of year take you way from the Coffee, and Pumpkin Pie in your life.
We are exactly 4726.5 Kilometers from Redding.
No java no joke Jake, Americano for me.
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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