There is a force on the Earth that is impossible to resist and cannot possibly be stopped. The force inspires terror in all who encounter it and their only thoughts are immediately, make it go awayyyyyyyy!
It is the March ... or, at least, the Shuffle of the Naked Old People.
Our wrinkles slide together and this makes a noise somewhat like crickets. Our parts flop about aimlessly without suspension but we don't care, we are used to it ... because ... we are the Naked Old People. Sometimes we fall over and writhe around on the ground for a while, something like Mormons under a Full Moon ... but we are used to that too.
We are the perfect instrument of civil disobedience as what would the police do. What cop would turn a water cannon on your unarmed, defenseless, butt nekkid granny. Even the NYPD wouldn't do that.
Now imagine a thousand just like her ... marching or shuffling ... onward ... ever onward.
We can stop war ... just by showing up. We don't care if you kill us as we're half-dead anyway and, think it through, then you would have to carry our naked dead asses away. Fear us.
Perhaps the cops will try to put us in paddy wagons to take us to the hoosegow to spare the fair citizens any further sight of this hideosity. Imagine, if you will, hundreds of Naked Old People being booked for being old or naked or something but, at the same time, a number of prostitutes are brought to the station as well. Consider the conversation.
Don't fuck with us. We can stop any conversation, stop any fight, stop any war ... just by taking off our shirts. If you continue your belligerence, the rest goes. You have been warned.
Your grandparents are very annoyed at your behavior with all this mayhem and killing. Straighten up ... or face full-frontal grandparental nudity.
It is the March ... or, at least, the Shuffle of the Naked Old People.
Our wrinkles slide together and this makes a noise somewhat like crickets. Our parts flop about aimlessly without suspension but we don't care, we are used to it ... because ... we are the Naked Old People. Sometimes we fall over and writhe around on the ground for a while, something like Mormons under a Full Moon ... but we are used to that too.
We are the perfect instrument of civil disobedience as what would the police do. What cop would turn a water cannon on your unarmed, defenseless, butt nekkid granny. Even the NYPD wouldn't do that.
Now imagine a thousand just like her ... marching or shuffling ... onward ... ever onward.
We can stop war ... just by showing up. We don't care if you kill us as we're half-dead anyway and, think it through, then you would have to carry our naked dead asses away. Fear us.
Perhaps the cops will try to put us in paddy wagons to take us to the hoosegow to spare the fair citizens any further sight of this hideosity. Imagine, if you will, hundreds of Naked Old People being booked for being old or naked or something but, at the same time, a number of prostitutes are brought to the station as well. Consider the conversation.
Don't fuck with us. We can stop any conversation, stop any fight, stop any war ... just by taking off our shirts. If you continue your belligerence, the rest goes. You have been warned.
Your grandparents are very annoyed at your behavior with all this mayhem and killing. Straighten up ... or face full-frontal grandparental nudity.
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