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good madam, I am intrinsically knowledgeable over 9th degree thelemic sex magick and know of no such invasion of leprechauns nor double rainbows (dude). you might find the scurvey lies lie with limes after working so hard to pour a pint of devil's buttermilk for Herr Majesty who shant sully her upper lip with it's darkened froth. tea is a king's swill. coffee is a man's drink. coffee and beer brewed forth from golden copper urns using German purity specifications that date back to a time when dogs ruled the land. now is not the time for sociopolitical quibbling; now that The End is truly nigh. now is a time for a man's drink. a man named AMERICA. not queen and certainly not blarney cunts who'd rather count clover leaves than rescue a drowning brother. have you no sense of reckoning? have you no desire to return to the trees, naked as primordia, screaming "O Discordia!!" in a sexual display of dominance over lesser males; males who you still wish to mate with?
raise forth thine pinkie and sippeth thou fromst thee tea goblet betwixt yon squire's legs!
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