wall

If one would take the already walked path from the Gas Chambers of Auschwitz to the Wall of West Bank without pondering, then logic is dead. The maze that the pundits meticulously knit is frivolous and hides the facts into a stew of tasty cyanide interests.

If the radicalization is not directly linked with oppression, then the Lady Justice should be just a syphilitic bitch licking her bipolar delusion at the intersection of our major roads: Hope St. & Believe Me Way. You can throw her a quarter and you may touch her stony nipples but do not expect a felatio. After all, her figment of imagination is so contagious that the inflicting pandemic had enveloped the world in a barb wire condom for the sake of keeping it very balanced.