I mean, at a certain point all that grows on a soil of BS is a harvest of mushrooms.  Yannow, like as in, yesterdays flower children are today's blooming idiots.

I am not anywhere near the idea of being grateful that the creation of an overwhelming stooopid has a collective hammock to rest its ass in.  The incremental precept should warrant the desired effect that sunlight has upon any other life's blood sucking vampire in consequence.

The muddied waters of Graying my way back to Right babe, is an exercise I've tired of long ago.  So, we differ on opinion of expediency.  Not the end of the world.  Happy Tuesday.  Enjoy a tune...