Andre The Blog Monkey's Banana Bar

Oh, woe. Oh, no. Grief and sorrow. Lost memories and more that wish were lost. It has come to this. Time moves one, and we are all caught in the hears that grind away at us. Let us lift our eyes and voices to the sky, shout out our pain and joy and whatever else is stuck in our gut. Truly today was never imagined to come, and let, here it is. Were it be better it be collapse under its own weighty self destruction tor consumed in the fire of outrageous intensity. The words flow, but yet do not garner the religious spirt that has ben so anchored within these most sacred hollows of misguided genius perverted from the absolute truth that it so excessively hides. Let not this cauldron of inequity become the brutal pot that boils butchered prose into poetic grandeur. Alas, I cannot support such disrespect for an item of such low honor. Be off, dare cat, with your claws of repurposing. Let not the rabid dogs sink their teeth into a venerable monument to all who have worshiped the word of exposé that makes one drool just to think. The former of the latter is forever without limitation on our crisis of worthiness. Be solid and forsake not what your banana bar can do for you, but what you want to do for this bountiful banana bar. I cannot say more but with with words that extend throughout the forthcoming endurance on continuity. It is too much to be coherent in a time that warrants such infinite infinity to continue. Surupus mon forcaso umbictuous forto.