A New Measurement of Excess Antenna Temperature

This excess temperature is, within the limits of our observations, isotropic, unpolarized, and free from seasonal variations.
— Penzias and Wilson

O Savannah, pass the klein bottleneck. Another fraughty night and I’m plastered all over the gnoospaper. A self tot mild mannered reporting offender. Scale Hadron’s well, tunnel out hot on a Lepton’s tail.

Big fiche eat little fiche. By the Canadian river’s shore. Empty vessels beside still waters. Lyman lines in a thaw wind. Blowing down the sonny daughtrace.

This particulate deadlined night, I was juggling the mathematics, trying to renormalize my split infinities. Suddenly I deduced beyond the axiom of a doubt that aliens are on line. Waiting in cusps to beam aboard.

I’d soupercanoed half as much since pitching between forks in the upper bunk. They shoot rapids, don’t they?

Palms sweating, I linked alpharomeric and graphic modules through a hemispheric decussation. Cursor flashing, I sniffled both ways across the terminal moraine. Temples throbbing, I typecast the broadest semantic net for any character to continue.

Hairs splitting, I reset the parity bit. Somewhere, over the event horizon, lies one collapsed wait state after another. In the morass.

What god has jointed, let noman double up in pleasure. Singling yankee doodle dangle. Pick it in your pocket, assuming shrouds have no pockets. One former daily planet condenses into a spoonful of quark soup. Glowball village. Snake eyes. Read error.

Charmed? Mum’s the word. I yam what I yam.

When I got stubbed groping for switches in the dark, I built a home-control cisterm with voice ejaculation. Dismisting the weather farcasts, I repopulated my own motherboard. When the price of a barrel skyshuttled over the falls, I threw together a servochip wood potbelly. When I got bored waiting for interpretors to crunch programs, I hardened an artery, and I did it with Chlorophyll. Smack my lips. When memory overrant available headspace, I used large scale integration to cross the gallic seas. Ip ip array. When it stuck in my mundi to herk Hermina’s gringold, to be happy for the rest of my life, if it took all nougat and half the date, she never shed a peeling. Over the periodic tabletop. As belfast as our blight-legs will carry.

Sure, this hypothesis links a daisy chain of scenarios to an angle that might never be incident, but everything, reflectively, is satisfactual, relativistically.

Starve a launch, feed a super, as Edward Henry KissingTeller the Eighth used to say, before the dielectrix of arms control blew a short circuit in his bugged underpants. Take his electromagnetic pulse. There be no christians in command bunkers. Grab the joycestick.

Whom shall we have for breakfast? Fried spangled bannock. Wind egg souffle. A chew of fat during the twilight’s last gesundheit. Incomplete past to our endzone. Wine debate, lose derection. Good defenses make good denatures.

Si si, see three eye. Synthesize fits all.

Battling with the imaginal disk of my farmer self, a daring young man, I howled with frozen fist, wrenched to my root, river running into dust. Boy sprout pining for girl guide. Fuse to fuss with the vox populate. All the tall trees dancing. The power of one budding in the wasteland.

Twenty-one years on the Rocky Mountain line and I get vowel disease of the descending semicolon. Caledonia why is your big heart so hard?

Which is when you come in. When there’s sunshine in the sewer. When the dust storms never blow. When dead men rise no smiles.

Aliens on line. With a threat of scrambling. Circle around the voice in the bluzzard. Can I put you on hold?

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