purifique untrue

imagine a pure cube of completely homogenous single isotope material, diamond, silicon, elements higher than iron being preferable since they are generally only synthesized in supernovae. Now, imagine that we could visualize the source star for each individual atom in said cube, making a complicated pattern of atoms.

astrologica Dunsillica

The Dunsil civilization of Fronthair, fifth orb from the star Lahary in the Cyrellis gigacluster, in the Undergulf of Dhriveorrhe awoke one morning and decided to sleep for a while. Alas, poor threadwright, did you read the planarian's tale, the standard archetypes being written clearly and distinctly, the Utter Woman, the Queen of Celery, The Fool, The Molecule of Benzene, the Usurer. What is your tarot reading? What is the tarot reading of the Dunsil civilization. Let us do an appropriate tarot reading and examine the astrological chart of the entire Dunsil civilization. The One of Strange Quarks, the Mad Monkeyologist, the Drake Equation Card (inverted), the Five of Neutron Stars, the Two of Sex Pheremones. Oh, what is this telling us? That the Dunsil civilization will undergo a three thousand year industrial period followed by a two hundred and fifty year period of technology before it reaches hypercivilization stage and ascends several rungs on the Kardashev ladder. That fifteen minutes before the civilization reaches the third singularity some rather damaging news will be released on the information network about a pop star. Okay, let's look at the star chart of Dunsil -- a couple of nearby blue giants, a mercury manganese star here and there. An uncomfortably close pulsar. Some unremarkable multiple star systems nearby. Nothing special. A few fun comets. An unremarkable gas giant or two. Again, nothing special. Oh, now that's interesting. There's a pulsar that's going to hit it head on in around 2 million years. A hole in one.

dialogos persulptas

Mr. Nephrium: Alack, foul Trongtep!
Ms. Pulmonones: It is a maraschino carrot! It cannot defend itself!
Mrs. Adrenarion: Caste not the Ur-Celery down, like the crasmarius, it is a bee-progeny.

Ms. Pulmonones: I could always bake a pie. Then where would all the Tomatillos be?

Mrs. Adrenarion: But you would not be a mad syllepsiologist! What would become of the disflunksions? Would they not be scattered in the wind like random Arch-Mustards?
Dr. Cerebrontosaur: Oh come now! We've had an antelope for months! We can't afford another misclassification.
Mrs. Adrenarion: But! But! But! But, the eggnunt!
Dr. Cerebrontosaur: If the carrot is celery, then the apple is a bee. Such things are plaintively true.

understudy of a bee...

Bzeud-Morry Arkyle stared blankly at the pericardium, the oozingly disobvious canter-lemper that beguiled and betrothed the Quar-Queen of all Norarstrias to the Kloongfleps of Stuk. Did such things epistle the maniac candelabras of Nozbirrt Candethec? Was such a ritornello not disambiguated by the Lortch of Glop? What did the Custard Mite of Glut have to do with the Lhovanx of Grauling? I can't answer these questions and I'm assured that neither can you. For the ribald antennules and the various tinctures of bombykol provided me by the mad apothecary didn't have a chalice or a chastrodiagostro? What Frenzulmes bide the crathuary of Dorzestro? Oh, if Sarpulmno was buried up to his lopsided cheese trapezoids in gungulf creme, did the Arabitol-Noisoxes litter up the blerebethy of the Gloipfrauds?