The Tree Of Tears

     In a place not far…

From the heart of the town of Yee, by a river or a creek-

There’s a thing to see.

     In the shaw under shade, in a place so ungrand, is a place… where a few- hold hands.

      Deep into woods and deeper there still, is a slump in the side of a wayward hill-

     Roots grow up to a great tree not known. This is “Free Will” where come men all alone.


     And on Old Will there is many a break, where a branch broke off for a living man’s sake.

A dying man climbed and hung himself high- where Will disagreed and he BROKE and he sighed.

    Many would come by some obtuse advice, “Kill thee on Will and THAT death will suffice.”

(And this was untrue- even hangings done twice.)

In Yee, is no roll of the diiiccce.

    The ones who tried thrice were cut down in the heart. The tree would just break THEM apart.


In their heart.

(In the heart is not a trap device of blood, but an inner town- in a man, a woman, a child- it doesn’t matter yet rather this is where the heart pounds louder and Louder, Louder and LOUDER… not ceasing, thoughts hidden and in seeking you go mad. And hell is there. A wooden box of hope falls in, and even in hell one will swim. Just to feel it again. Or has anything really begun? Deception, mire. Okay. Whatever…).

And they would go mad like a string with no song. But even the grass would help them along.

    But those who, unmocking, would die just to live- well, to them Will gave mercy and mercy to give.

    If this makes sense not, to your “heart’s mind” do turn. The land of the Yee is a land that won’t burn.

    It won’t die and won’t let and it never forgets. It watches the sons of the weak and the best.

    You cannot be free from it, lest you would sleep- no one one does sleep yet on the Year of the Leap.

   And even on Leap Year, the sleep is like waves. And people like lemmings fly forth to the ocean.

The ocean gets nothing- at least, not the blood. The blood it craves.


   It is quite amusing, and displaying great grace- the lords of the earth hold this dying man’s race.

Every four years. Or as far as they wish to… leap.

   But forest grows tighter and men cannot pass. And forced to their backs they see Into the Glass.

    The Glass holds the stars and jean sky holds all. But pressure for Purpose is no need to bawl.

Sadness for having none-
Make one-
Want for another
Not want for death

Being under the sun
Is quite enough
To be mad enough
To do… any ill

   Grief is a land where the land comes undone, solely to take men and un-die each one.

Each and every… one.


“This land of Yee’s Mine and for you, to be free.” Thus spake their god, adding, “I am the Tree.”

Superheroes And Sundays

I recall my childhood, before so many of my feelers were bound, taken off or rabbit trailed. The sun was sunnier. The air seemed to talk to my skin as I ran fast, urging, “Fly!” and the sound of the breeze was my way. I had never even HEARD the word, “religion”. My first disappointment connected to it was Sunday Obligatory. I say obligatory capitalized because going to c-h-u-r-c-h was not purgatory, as Protestants (we protested 100s of years ago?) they do not purge. They don’t confess. They just attest and profess and your Sunday is just GONE, man. In fact, Saturday was consummed by dread of Sunday. It was child labor. Sunday I had to dress up. No wedding. Stupid shirt and pants too tight for my package- I would leave, go to the store and come back in. People with their vulgar adult mannerisms. All White middle classers. I remember my first Sunday screwed over. My first Sunday: Screwed Over! It was 1980. I woke up on a particularly nice Saturday. I was all cozy on the couch under a blanket. I was watching this Anime cartoon before Anime was called “Anime”. Somebody? Oh damm- someone please tell me how this cartoon ended?!? Aagh!!! There was a battleship in OUTERSPACE and they were shooting up the universe, when… “Hey- its time to go to CHURCH! What are you doing?!?” -My Mom, 1980 Well that was the last Sunday that didn’t seem dirty. Anime is clean and pure. Kids love it. My mom could have said, “Hey Silly, its time to go. No. She shamed me. I was six, dude! She was almost the age I am now. I hated church. Get me out of here! This sucks. I was right. But over time, it was too late. I was in an average church- not a Koresh compound or a Rajneeshi community. Never the less, I was brainwashed. In integrated and even found things to do to gain my parents approval such as being “brave enough” to tell others who do not know “God” that they “need” him, all-the-while not sure of myself at all. I felt set up. I felt like a coward if I didn’t profess the unknown- the statement “you are loved”. Well I can say it NOW. But I’m 39. Not 9. If child labor is STILL child labor in a not-for-profit… why is a non-profit church exempt. Well, hell,that’s not going to be a crime ever to make your kid weary at church for 8 hours. But becoming part of that evil mechanism called “I know” when you don’t, sucks! A lot of life is “I don’t know” but usually it is not your community and parents telling you the others outside the Christian subculture are (1) lost (2) enemies to God (3) someone to befriend (4) use your friendship for intel and attempted conversion. I was no good at it. While their religion was poopin’ out half wit shit to launch in a pretend world, I was getting very ill. My father knew I was sick with a hereditary disease.


So after 4 years of being brainwashed, I had a very bad HAE attack and hit the floor in pain, alone, pleading with “God” with “words” to take away the pain. He did not. I told my Mom that I didn’t believe “God” loved me. She persisted, even angrily, to tell me I was loved. But it was not real or true. I could not feel reality. The truth is that if a deity is real, THEY support YOU. YOU don’t believe and believe and hope them into existance. They have to be real. I am glad I have almost died a few times- there is something about supreme pain and fear that enables you to choose the best reality. I chose to believe that anything good or bad can happen. I also chose to use the Garden of Eden as an example of anti-religious OCD path finding. 99% of everything is basicly good. Seeking to be as smart as God is death. Therefore as both a spiritual parishoner still, and a man with feeling, I say that “wrong” is dichotomous. “Sin” is when you lie to yourself and go to church but you hate it, but you have two faces. Sin is also staying away from learning and having two girlfriends who have never met. Sin is a game of death. Its not some damn stupid thing like you smoke or you cheated on your husband 15 years ago… those are health and personal dilema. As complicated your dilema, there a way to progress and we do that. But that is not “wrongs”. The Bible says sin is not our problem, Jesus fixed that.


Not everyone who has a stupid idea and convinces others to do the same is religious. It is just usually the case that if you are gullible or make your kids slave-to-church, what kind of family is that. My family tried to take me to healers, not a doctor and I almost died. My dad even WAS an MD. So now when its Sunday, I don’t even say it out loud. For me it is just Blanketday, Saturday The Sequel, Sonntagg, Domingo… anything but “S-nday”. And worst thing of all? “How did that Anime cartoon in 1980 end?!?! Mom?!?”



A Malibu Beach House For Søren Kierkegaarde


     Do not say, “Never me!”. Oh it probably won’t be YOU that gets that mansion. Or could it be? Hmm.


    You may have never lost it all. Or have you. I cannot speak for this fellow. What does he do? Who loves him? Is God fair? Do we accept what is around us?


     Awake. Know you may FEEL powerless, but if you hold your head up, people will respect you. But don’t stop there!


     Step into the font in your own mind. Renew your thoughts. Clear your mind. Be in yourself, behind your eyes.


    First, go to the safest place you can go to be safe, as the next step is challenging. Whether a memory of a vacation, a time with a loved one- yes, feel their comfort. They are not here now. This place is not here now. This is YOU as actualized. Many, many people in the world share your dreams and fears. You are qualified, my friend- not disqualified.


    Now go into the past. Say, “Past, all of you… I WAS a part of you. But now I am me.” Realise your wrongs past. Your weaknesses and shortcomings up until now. Fearlessly study the underwater archeological ruin of your past. What is to painful, cast it aside. It must not be yours to solve- even though its YOU. Many, many people are willing to accept you and yet we all think, “I’m a mess” from time to time. It won’t kill you to be careful to avoid thoughts that hurt, rather, that is survival! What you otherwise do regret, name “lesson” and the “unknown” reverently put in the shed in the backyard of your mind.


   So I have a few mindscapes for you to consider. On a blue day, go to The Blue House. It is not lonely. You just scuba-dived through Pandora’s Box underwater. I encouraged you to consider your failures and fear! What kind of real estate agent would I be to leave you down there? Let’s consider that what you appreciate IS you. People “envy” the rich, but moreso just appreciate a better life. That “life” starts inside you. Your attitude will affect your experience. Money just creates, in physical form, how we think. Most truly it is our mental landscape that needs shelter.


    You will see others around you. Their minds are sheltered well or… poorly. There is no way to tell who is where! A rich man may live in a noisy little mind room. The taxi driver may have just seen his daughter marry a good guy and his mind is as large and sunny as a Bavarian forest. You may be in the middle and you feel life moves and then so do you so you move a lot, maybe feeling you have to change your inner peace for others and be someone they like. If that is the case, may I interest you in a simple million dollar one bedroom?


     Well for starters, here is a “head room”. You can see out your eyes. If you are on the bus, this property is great. You can lie down up to two worries. People will read your face as you are holding up your head and they will say, “Who is your mental realtor?” And you can say, “Well I was given this day. I used my thoughts as a construction crew. I built this place and its nice. Private and quiet.


     “Who knows the thoughts of a man except his spirit within him?”

                     -The Bible

      It is not what we see that makes us happy only. Often what we see compels us to love people who are hard to love. But if we do THAT, we qualify ourselves to accept love. That “good feeling” is what love is about- not a stale “love because you should” pseudo philosophy. And to make good things happen, you ought to know and accept that good things are there for you.

     I guess I say this because today I feel depleted. So I build my house and manage my thoughts. And I ask, “What Would Kierkegaarde Do?”. Or maybe I just see him in the mirror everyday? If you build today a place in your mind, use nails of wisdom.


Alignment To Power

      The big “thing”, ever since I can remember, is to be independant. To be personally strong. That being self-made is virtuous. That if you did it yourself, that’s great. No. If you did it yourself, its because you HAD to. Any successful person knows they do best utilizing others.

     If you knew what I knew and walked in my shoes, you would know that if you were rich and alone, smart and alone, had everything and were alone, you would go mad. Being an independantly successful madman is hardly an identity. There is no personage to be found in absolute independance. Should you find it, you would not find any frame of referrence for “I”.

     Hey- I know! Since I’m a Bible school drop out, let’s beat up the ol’ book a bit. I mean, I’m really only subject to God in as much as he put spirited words in it, right. He can judge me if I mess with it… well, he’s pretty much got ol’ Andruski tagged and bagged, knowing what hour I will die, so hum diggity! Let’s surf the waves between the apex of know-it-all-iveness and the reef of death- heresy. (That’s an abbreviation for “hear-say”- hear bullshit and say it.)

Let us make Him in OUR image

     God made the Earth in six days.
“No way!”, many will protest. “It would take at least 4½ billion years to make itself. Actually it would not MAKE itself… it would just fall into place.” Things would fall into a place that isn’t there? Things would develop into what? From what? Into what?

       What if what we perceive to be ORDER is chaos? That we should not be here because there is no good reason to be hear? What if silence is not at all an absence of sound but a negation of chaos. What if God doesn’t exist? What if the word “exist” is inconclusive? What if “God” is not a pronoun… but a proadjective. What if atheism is utterly irrelevant as being is relative to pre-existing being, proved time and again. I’m not against the word atheistic because I don’t think that God takes scientific inquiry personally. Carl Sagan had a great respect for truth seeking scientists who attended and were kicked out of church and sometimes roasted to death. Who is the “athiest sinner” there except for the blindfolded fornicating fat bishop living a lie who ordered the execution? Hm.

      God says, “I am” and anyone who is self-aware is aware inherenly, understandind what it means to BE God, but having being parathenogenicly by being in an in-between dimension of heaven and earth. These are like saying “life” and “death”. If you say there is no rock, I say there is no need to say that unless your rock is missing and you need it. Then there IS a rock- you just can’t see it.

      One’s impatience can make it seem that the rock that is gone is “no more”. One’s practice of impatience and ill-temperment can make it seem there is no god, not at all.

Heck, I’m not trying to prove God exists. I think people are pretty hard-pressed to describe God and not contradict themselves. Also fairly hard-pressed if they want to find there is no God.

      And if you find your rock irretrievable in the ocean depths, can’t you just love that you know its there? If it was smashed- there too, it was never yours. It once was a bunch of other stuff beaten all to hell and back. Was its scared to be molten lava, be pushed out, break down and smooth over with weathering? No way. Oh. Yeah, sorry. I meant a smooth rock, like oblong and grey with cute little divots and stripes because its going for the thousands of years old “layered” look. Well, the rock wasn’t originally yours. You may be destined buddies.

     You could say your spouse was never yours. Generations of people came and went and her mother and father were physical creatures, like us all, taking matter from the umbilical and disintegrating after our last breath. Where is the founding mold. Who or what called the shots on fabricating US and are they friendly? Someone still says, “Where’s God?” and Jesus’ alien followers say, “He came in peace.”

      “So where is he now?” Agh. Sheesh. Patience. He’s coming back. Probably in a way we don’t comprehend and something plain or not easily understood. I mean, the first time he maxxed out on hidden technology, but his father un heaven foot the bill- on a virgin birth. Dang, how expensive would it be to take only an ova and make a whole male baby?

     In conjecture, an athiest scientist quoted that price in statistics. She spelled out how an ova through parethenogenesis if correctly tweeked could calcify, double its own chromosomes and drop two values to be a canidate to become a baby. Well, damn… that’s probably not too hard if yiu already formed all the galaxies and were given a free pass to major divine intervention. We’re talking… like… God became you. In form. And in spirit, if you submit or do agree to the process, you can find yourself born in mud and raised into a divine world, shedding this one. That is a painful process. I write to remind myself I’m not alone. That I am loved.

    I don’t expect anyone to pay much heed to my “theo-logicality”, but it is my training and expertise. Its an experience. I believe that you- your life, means more than a whole Bible. But the Bible is a book of Worlds. Its about people. 4000 years. Historical. Some parts used to scare the crap out of me. I wasn’t realistic. That’s one thing I’ve learned from atheists and humanists- we are human and ideologies of God can poison. I don’t care for denunciation of Christ, but athiests DO blow about 99.99% of heresy out of the water. “Go, you!” (That’s my Athiesch for “bless you”. Respectfully omitting reference to divine benevolent precipitousness.)

     I just thought of something… I once thought I’d ask my father-in-law who is an amputee if he thinks his leg is in heaven, waiting for the rest of him. Hah. But I didn’t want to piss him off. One time I put both wheel chair foot rests down to take him to the hospital and he said, “What’s the right one for? My pieter?”. Assuming it was out of control like Keiko. Speaking of which- is Keiko dead?

      Anyway, there was another time- I swear- he has this chihuahua named, “Peanut” sitting on his lap and it got under the blanket on his lap and started spinning, trying to get out. Well I almost believed Dad needed that foot rest after all.

    So God doesn’t EVER exists alone.
We go from dust to life together to dust. He went from origin, the beginning end of time, not as dust, but “assembled”. So he went heaven to earth to death to resurrection and… back up to heaven to the position right of the commanding presence. The Son of God is God and has a predessecor- not himself, but God the Father and was with him in the beginning.
Now, if you will turn in your hymnal to 86, you are being asked to leave. Hahahah!

       Ugh… more? In ancient Hebrew- God, (Yawn away.), in Genesis, when it says “God” made things, it translates “Elohim” or an abundance of God. “El” + anything is “God”+. Its almost like a Spanish nickname. “Hey, ‘THE’!! Whassup?”. Aw, I don’t know. In Spanish, “el” can mean “he” or demonstrative “the”.

        Anywho, “Eloheinu” means “Our god”. The Bible rarely calls God “God”. There are many VERBS, pronouns as well as ADJECTIVES. Ie God is “to love” (or L. “Amar”). “Emmanuel” which designates a GPS lock on each person- it means “God with us”. Also, “wonderful”.
There’s no reason, and man, there is no way to go on your own. We are all going somewhere and not to get lost.

       Jesus Christ has gotten a bad rap and I want to be, my goal is to be, in my sphere of influence that guy who shows people the good in the Bible and so called following Jesus. There is usually a voice of a generation. But no one needs my voice. Its true or its not. You need others and God or heaven, however you put it. And God needs you. Why else would he say he wants you and be there for you, or if you can accept that truth itself is “it”, how can love ever stop.

    Please ignore my christiological points. Its boring science, theoism and you get burned a lot handling the paper-cutting pages. Please regard only to never ever ever go alone and don’t leave anyone suffering alone if you can help it.

So after all that, DID God make the world in six days?

I can only say this: it took zero “man” hours. Why is that even a question except to make fun of God. Here’s a harder one than the “six days” question: Did Cain marry his sister? They didn’t have marriage then. Maybe they had a girl’s side of the river and a boy’s side like Summer camp. And Cain says, “Mom- I got your daughter pregnant. I hope she doesn’t tell her dad.” Eve nods, “Its okay honey, I’m a genetic extrapolation from your father. I won’t judge.” Aww! That’s nice. Man I’m tired.

When Will The World Sigh?

If I could I would
Take the reel of this dream
And wrap it in a paper bag
I’d put it under a stone

Every memory
Every breath- its too much
How can I deny I lived
Haven’t I lost the years

But a “you” I’ve never met
You would find my real
The stone would tell you I’m there
You would put me back together

Back in form, I’d ask you who I was
You’d say I am what you see
That you see what is, nothing more
And the reel shows you were there

The “Silly Secret Service”: I Was Profiled!!

I wasn’t having the best day. This was several years ago in May of 2008. My wife was just diagnosed with diabetes. She went to her doctor’s appointment and said, “Why don’t you get yoursel a coke and meet me back here in 45 minutes?”. She always thinks of people like that! So I left the Physician’s Pavilion wing of the enormous OHSU medical university campus on the city hill.

I walked up the breezeway and walked straight to the elevator while dialing my phone. I had a question for my wife. At the same time, quite overtly interrupting my attempt to make a call, shaven head security cop that is just for Oregon’s OHSU hospital was acting weird on the elevator at floor 9. He said in a Southern accent, “Phone don’t work on the elevator.” He seemed displeased when I said, “Oh wow, I think it actually go through” and I hit the 8th floor button and got out to get better reception. It looked vaguely familiar- the adjacent lecture hall. My dad was an MD. A graduate of OHSU. He died in 2002, so when I think of the best doctor to see my wife? He still seems to be in the OHSU campus. On the net, too.

(Let me take a sec- okay if you google, “pipe organ dr. gene giesbrecht”, that will tell you about what he did to our house. Geez. I should blog on THAT.)

So that cop- I later looked up pictures of the OHSU security standing behind President Clinton when he visited the OHSU campus in the previous year. I think the egos of the officers were still swollen by how awesome it was to stand behind Clinton. I looked them up because this is a story about law enforcement psychopathology. In this case, psychopaths- crew and boss. Sworn officers, not mere “rent-a-cop”. Say that and they’ll bust-your-chops!

So anywayyy, I got out at floor 8. The cop had just said cell phones don’t work in elevators. So I got out on 8. I was still on the phone with wifey. I took the flight of steps down from 8 to 3. I like echo-ey stairs. I did that when I was up here as a kid. Its not restricted. Most doctors would say, “Hey, that’s good excercise!” So I got out on floor 3 to get to the food court and get a super expensive soda. I started down the hall and a man says, “Are you lost?”.

I turned around and I saw Southern diamonds of lynching in his eyes. The man, the uniform, bald head. He had said cell phones don’t work in elevators. He wasn’t allowing me to use the stairs. He laughed that I did. They are totally public and I was a bit lost without my wife at my side. The world has predators. I was about to be hunted and didn’t know it.

But I knew that I knew that this cop was evil. “Evil” is “live” spelled backwards and this sworn deputy, with a look I could tell he did not want to help me. I felt a stress field telling me: “Get your drink and go to your wife. NOW. But do not hurry. Just go 3rd floor, up and over and get away from this guy. He might try to do something illegal to you”.

I got my coke. I told the cashier a security guy was bothering me. No response. Abandonment. My PTSD was triggered. Floor 3 is below the Earth with no exits.

So the cop didn’t like that I took the stairs. Later I learned that he was calling ALL campus security, described me as a terror threat with a cell- and that I was Arabic (I am Swedish and had a 6 day beard).

I got in the elevator alone. I felt total relief. Man. At floor 9 lobby, logic would say to keep going. But I asked for help because I felt I was about to get dogpiled. I was. I looked to my right and I saw the back of Baldie’s head, dressed all in SWAT black and gold badge. Pretending not to look interested, he seemed “prederotic”- getting off on FEAR.

So I went to leave the 9th floor Main Building. I passed through doors. There is a glass hallway there, and a breezeway to the outside. I wanted to get to the Physician’s Pavilion where my wife was being seen for her diabetes. 100 yards away.

As I walked, I “turned my back ON”. If you have PTSD, this means CAVU vision, maximum peripheral, maximum audio and the power of hell to do anything. A turtle on its back turns and stomps out 4 holes. Ow!

I walked to the next door, I saw Baldy walking behind me in the door’s glass reflextion- and gaining. I saw him radio, unnaturally calm. Acting like he was lion hunting. I got into the lower West end of the horseshoe-shaped 5-story pavillion. So in all, so far, I had been pursued ¼ mile. The cop was imagining up I was guilty of stuff in his “prederotic” mind. So then… time… slowed… down…

Now my memory is choppy because high stress makes for skippy facts. This next part took about 25 seconds where I ended up having this guy beat along with 3 other cops. With their super it makes 5 on 1.

25 seconds ’til turn over, folks!

To start, I glanced over my shoulder and he wasn’t there. I listened at 400%. (I don’t know if I was being video monitored now that I think of it. But you can’t VIDEO CONTROL a person. Remember that, all you video game players. In a game you have nothing to lose.)

24… 23…

I look to my side, proceed, relax my breath.


I put my breath in a mode.

21… 20… 19…

I peered ahead- “Left hall unknown. Right hall known. Too clandestine. I could get beat up in there.

18… 17…

But if I go in, I can run.


Innocent scared people run


I am not scared


I am not scared


I am not scared


I am hell, born in hell. An infantryman position rotation option.


Walking North. Position myself near my wife.

9, 8, 7…

Dial… but DO NOT SEND 911


His boots behind you. Stop. Be calm. All shields off.

5, 4, 3…

Turn around n’ tell him, “You (you) know I had 911 on speeeeed (speed) dial because of you…


Back 10 seconds. Okay- go:

I exited the North door and knowing he was behind me. I never ran. I stopped. I dialed 9-11 as I walked. And to get the FIRST word, EXPOSING the conspiracy without seeing or hearing it, I said,

“I have 911 ready to dial. Its because you are following me and I don’t appreciate it.”

He laughed like a WWII poster boy, arms akimbo, and all his Mu Thai Aikaido gun range skills were not applicable. Like I’ve said before, I like the whole samurai mindfulness thing. There WILL be a day you must fight but can only speak.

He said, “I want to see some I.D.” I looked behind me and another security cop (They are sworn officers, but not City of Portland policemen). I said, “Yeah, I’d like to comply, but I have a legal right to speak to your supervisor before doing anything.” I was kind. He looked defeated. Game over.

I looked behind me and other officers were in the bushes, hiding behind posts. Its not the samurai. I said, with hands up in the air, “Really guys? Ninjas rock. You’re surrounding me?”. Patients walked by and I hid inside my apparent self.

Bald cop got on the radio. I called my wife’s cell. As it rang, I shamed them lightly. Hahaha. I said, “Oh my God… this is so embarrassing.” My wife answered. I said, “Hi Bu, security has six officers on me. They don’t believe I’m with you. or let me go.” My wife said, “Whaatt?!?!”.

Oh man were those security guards taken by suprise!! My wife came down like My She-Ra sniper. She was there in 60 seconds. I just watched my baby pick them apart and felt a deep sense of Deepak Chop ’em up joy!
Then Mr. Man, the supervisor showed up. He was hard to read. An ex-Portland cop. Why not a city cop anymore? I think maybe his heart wasn’t in it.

He made a crack about “We don’t look like terrorists” with a laugh & said, “Are we good?” “Sure,” I said, not sure what that was but his boys did walk away disappointed. Sorry girls. Don’t mess with me. “WE” don’t look?
You see, I’m not Arabic. But my wife is. That’s ugly.

After that, I decided I wanted to talk to an OHSU counselor. We were told to wait at ER. To sit. Mr. Supervisor came in! “Hi again! (jerk).” He had a slinky crouching walk that only a nervously violent man would have. What a way to psyche people out. In front of other patients he told us it was over- to leave. That kind of intimidation, sitting next to my wife and leaning into her air space was too much.

I said, “Get away from my wife.” He said, “You can shut up and leave.”

My wife told him off. Once again- and in a big way, I watched my enemy spiritually decimated right before my eyes. You see, when he sat next to her, pulled in to her space, he knew that was the nastiest way to put hurt on me. A total jerk! But when I spoke (not “hit”- “spoke”), well- my wife let him have it. We left, not fleeing, not cursing but with stature.

Its really splendid to be able to manuever in a violent world and turn physics into “unfelling”- in other words, no one has to die or get hurt. Imagine, say in WWII- if people dropped their guns and played football.* Its not allowed.

*Actually that did happen at Christmas.

Морожна шоколад

Да. Прйьйет!
Я локо! Хахахаха!!


БЬойн… мур?

Я лаблу морожна!

Малщйк… дйеьушка?

Я лаблу шоколад

Собока… кошка?
Шобока, кошбоко??

Я лаблу, Я лаблу
Я лаблу морожна…
Морожна шоколад!!

Андрес Харрисон
Я Русский?
Мм… нйет!

Хаa!! Xaaa!!!