It Is Scientificially Bad Science That I Will Not Be Able To Release My Cattylist Of Unstable Elements Into The Mixture At The Convention's Compound To Get A Reaction And So Forth ...

Goshdarnit, as I spy with my binacascope at the closed gates of the convention, where some of us can't scientifically get into there to speak edgewise, since certain fullterm Governors muscled over my spot in the lights that we used to absorb as enjoyables with wardrobe extras and lipsticked-stained comments of yesteryears gone by with Jomcain the Mavrik and Joe the Plumber, from our republicratic nation from the One Notion bus I sit across this great landscape, as you people who were invited (thanks alot after whatall I've done for you all) to brace for the comin Hurricane Whatever, to reince the convention hall with freedom's fluidy liquids as we march two by two into the auditoriark to hoist ourselves up onto the reinforced podiums to get our message on out to the real American elements, I can only think back dogonnit to what I am texted to remember youbetcha of my colleges days studyin those mock-sciences and "senior level" things there that we put off until the last part of those semesters, crammin allnighters in those cool evenins before these false threats of global warmin were gored into us matadorically, like radical heatbombs, learnin the foreign Derwoodian theory of electrocution, knowin full well and so forth that these things must be debunked even if we lived in single dormitory rooms with only one floor-level bed for the future of our party's spines and support systems which we cherish as we sit at the convention tables periodically.