The Institute

Entrance to the Institute’s Super Secret Laboratory*

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That’s pronounced ‘LAH-BORE-UH-TORY’

in case you were wondering.

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I’m not going to lie to you

As you can see in the above digital image (taken by the author) there is to the left of the screen an exit sign which, had I been less hell bent on achieving even a moment of youthful joy, I would have obeyed before even halfway through the film.

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You will, some of you, wish I would. Lie to you, that is. You’ll curse yourself mightily for having read this modest entry even after being warned there would not be a lie to be found in it. This is your fault, and, if you choose it to be so, your problem as well. And, as such, I refuse to take even one more moment in discussion of the subject. Instead, I will now address the reason for this post.

I saw “The Monkey Movie”. That’s what I called it when, politely, I let my crime fighting partner know that I would be leaving the house for the afternoon. It, this movie, as you may have guessed, is the latest installment of the current remakes of the classic ape films some of us were lucky enough to grow up with. I being one of those lucky enough, and always ready to attempt to recapture some small part of my glory years, was quite eager to see the film. That said, I did not enter into the darkened theater without some small amount of trepidation. This ‘feeling’ was not unusual for me, and, when experienced in the past was ultimately shown to have been correct. As it was this time. Basically, the movie, “The Monkey Movie” sucked.

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Well, well, if it isn’t our old friend, The Plastic Pig*!

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Horribly lost. Deeply mourned. Joyously returned.

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Blessed I am for sure upon this occasion. Granted a miracle I never will feel worthy of.

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*technically it’s the ‘Headless’ plastic pig shown here with head, but best known for being without it.

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THE INSTITUTE HAS RELOCATED

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I mean, it’s physical location. That is, where all the magic happens. I’m not going to tell you where exactly, except to say my proximity to the ‘sandwich eaters’ is much closer than it’s been in some time. “The sandwich eaters?” Some of you, unfamilliar with The Institute jargon, may ask. Yeah, ‘The Sandwich eaters’, that’s you. You, and your friends, your mom, your dad, everyone you know, you’re all ‘sandwich eaters’. Every God damn last one of ya.

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MAGA!

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“Trump may not be mentally fit to be President. It is no laughing matter. It’s a national emergency.”

– Eugene Gu, MD

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Presentation of The Order of Parental Glory

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Dictum

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WE’RE DOOMED, I TELL YOU, DOOMED!

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Trump’s decision on Paris accord has lefties everywhere shitting bricks. Now if they could just sh*t some rebar, we could build the wall!

-Ann Coulter

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‘SILICON VALLEY BIGWIGS’ IS GOING TO BE THE NAME OF MY NEW BAND

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