Practice, technically. I'm tawlkin' bout practice. Not the game. Practice.
In Central Park up at 99th. Map at bottom, female fighters of yore, now.
There's supposed to be bows and arrows, swords, knives - all foam of course.
I am on the subwAy almost to my favorite stop in Brooklyn. Guess.
It's on the A line. You should only need one guess.
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Guess now reveal next.
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High how're you? I am not high enough. I only got one puff in before the puff puff passer arrived.
"The choo choo"
I gave up my seat to a woman a moment ago. I hadn't sat down yet. So I asked and held it for her until she could claim it.
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I am getting campaign t-shirts today, courtesy of my armourer Jose and lady armourers at Embroidery House and Son.
Finally I can have a sign on that's not my cape.
I need a cooler temperature wise cape for next summer. Cotton is Congressman.
Whenever a phrase has "king" in it I swap it for "Congressman". That's a power job without the bs of inherited rights etc.
"No Kings!" Queens by request. Personal only I can't aid royal title for public office.
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There's the big march tomorrow but marches are always the same. This a variety show.
I got great business cards from Kristin! the by for and of people power American Buttoneer!
Her fort is east of The Fountain. Shre's got all kinds of cool buttons and magnets.
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