DON'T FENCE IF YOU AIN'T GOT NO CHAFF.

Rip, Rig, and Panic

The Lunar Cycle may cause Tsunami & Catastrophic Origami but it is Barbed Wire that brings out the Cheeky Grimace of the Moon. Speaking of which, Barbed Wire is some hateful fence. In that, it scalps some serious Hurt. And the Chafe begat Chaff, sayeth The Verse. And the Chaff begat Dust, a Harvest, a Sustenance, a Bowl. The Great Depression was a Seer, as well, a Prophet who'd been established in a tent, upon a throne, despite profound irritability, incurable remorse, and a large "D" embroidered on his chest, in 48-point Goudy Stout. One could seek his Decrees -- "Are you here to seek the Wisdom of, His Lowness, The Great Depression?" -- and it was his Collected Decrees that would triumph, eventually, in competitions with Other Revivals. The Great Depression was really a farmer named Tuffy. "Tried Legumes," he said, out back, behind the tent. "Tried Tubers, Ugly Fruits, and Assorted Goobers. Never thought of harvesting no Opinions, 'bout the only thing I could raise in this here Chafe." When asked if he'd pose for a few snapshots in his Getup, the farmer spat near his shoes, "Yep." Then his oilskin trousers ruptured after a suspicious clap. Think about what makes you Tick: We're all Ticking, you see. Don't hate if you ain't got no fence; don't fence if you ain't got no Chaff; don't Decree if you ain't prepped to risk some Cheeky Grimace.