It comes as no surprise
as the glorified faces and their victims are churned out from certain
camps guarded by can-wielding so-called educator whose reliable
methodology is to opt for maximum reliance on enforcing the magical outcome
of the materials. The petrified brats cower down and kowtow for
the lashing on the exposed parts of the obese bodies is unbearable.
Besides there are the inexpensive twanky and
expensive mumbling educators effortlessly screaming at the top of
their voice, injecting what the brats find rather despicable.
Their intellectual exploration is confined to visualization of what is startlingly visible,
whereas the can-wielding revered educators excel in backstabbing and deep
analysis of talismans, whereas the twanky educators restrict their endeavours within
their cliquish territory, differently the mumbling ones practice with their chins on the edge of the stage where the willing birds hover around
till midnight.
In this harmonious existence, considered productive. The drowsy, sometimes, blindfolded observers run their
bureaucratic pens over the approval papers. In further pursuit the elevated
brats venture out for Cola land to enhance their ability to waggle their Anglo-obsessed tongue
only to be crowned as the beacons and revered kinds in their distinctly
structured society, while the mediocre ones compete with the mumblers's colour
by hoarding Nivea's whitening cream, and those who failed end up riding the
mumblers as their stairways to heaven or their passport to catch up what they
missed out.
In a divine academic
vicinity the coiffured talismans-laden mams practice the language they has
been teaching with the hope to master it someday, squatting like ignored toads
behind the nameplates with initials Pr. and Dr. Over the Pr. And Dr. they hand out
the mantras for those who haven’t been allowed to utilize their senses since
the first unconscious wailing. Living
under the impression that senseless many don’t hear nor they see the toads behind
the Dr. and Pr. set up camps to counter the inexpressive loud-mouthed builders
of the nation, ensuring the perplexed nation to possess a vibrant situation.
As
real killjoys, sometimes, the sleepy camouflaged monster rolls out his
bullet-proof machines with his flunkies to intervene or stay longer to compensate
for the inconvenience he has been subjected to. His arrival has always been
known as the judgment day to all the lives here, so the conflicting groups duck
down and whisper their arguments lest the monster will be awakened again.
When this bizarre-like
game is played out noisily the mumblers, with hairy white feet on the desks, read
the newspapers, written by the foreign returns edited by another group of
mumblers, with sarcastic expressions. Only when their sarcasm reaches the point
of explosion e-mails and letters to the editors stream out verbally lashing out
the ruined hierarchy and for not living up to their double-standard society.
The hurt foreign-returns accuse them for breeding bedbugs like rabbits, as
vengeance for the contempt, while the creepy characters in black tight shirt
extort as much bucks as they can in connivance with their revered foreign returns,
for the bucks will be used on their brats who are sometimes supervised by the
mumblers. This is how an effective bucks pyramid is built up.
As a national
distraction the loud wailing of supposedly national social scientists against the
unruly statesmen, who have been marauding a land ,where people rally under a
banner singing a composed song without questioning, goes to the extent of
calling the unruly kinds as “people-elected morons”. Any related inquisition is
explained in entangled euphemism which even a lay blogger wouldn’t comprehend. Fancy
this melodramatic pseudo-intellectualism!
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