You may or may not recall, some time ago I wrote a piece about the sunflowers. I will summarize.
Once upon a time, the sunflowers got together, Marched on Washington, D.C. and marched right into Trump’s office. When they left, tens of thousands of them, Trump lay lifeless on the floor, a silly inane Trump smile on his pudgy face, with the breath apparently knocked out of him. Forever.
Newspapers, including the New York Times and Washington Post reported.
“In their infinite wisdom, the sunflowers offered to give the President, ahem, Sunflower head, which apparently blew his mind, and the infinitesimally tiny brain within it, completely, and permanently. As in, forever. Some said they heard a resounding song sounding like the song from The Wizard of Oz, Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead, but this was unconfirmed. White House tapes mysteriously went blank during this time.”
I mention this story now only because the Golden Sunflower Shower Literary Award (sponsored by Prostitutes of America for Literary Lingual Excellence) is to be decided soon. As is the Can’t Fix, I’m So, Stupid Award.
You all can vote if you are so moved. Just phone your vote to your local elected official, telling them the sunflowers wish to vote, repeatedly, and to please stop taking children from families.
The sunflowers are upset as they consider children like their multitude of seeds. They are nourishment for the ecosystem, as children are nourishment for the vitality of our planet. Harm them, and the Gods will show their wrath.
Knock off the cruel nonsense, or those in power will literally pay through the nose, just as the Nile River ran red with blood from the touch of Moses’ staff. Remember the last plague, the tenth plague, God brought against Pharaoh. Google it if you are not familiar with it. It brought him to his knees. And, not in a good way.
Let the children go.
Neal Harvey…good day.