Antics of a Buzzfeed Ding Housefly

Antics Of A Buzzfeed Ding Housefly... Non random, but (based on my very far out, flimsy laughably amateurish thinking) faux feigned aye firmly believe, that what appears bye and by as erratic, kinetic, pathetic housefly...doth not defy explanation, when theory linkedin with sophisticated espy craft, and anonymously fyi confirmed, grounded, touted... across world wide web of secret agents akin to James Bond 007 guy remotely controlled, via artificial intelligence high lee believable telltale (invisible) fingerprints my counter espionage foot soldiers well nigh came to this sticky hunch expertly ply ying spellbinding twisted sinister and sly and family tombstone, where anti-American saboteurs, perhaps planned purposely left loose ends only one practiced in surveillance would tie dangling minuscule threads pulled together, how indiscriminate fiends of American government blatantly intrude zooming carefree necessitating vie hubble counter measures Accorded unsuspecting and surreptitious ploys CIA and/or FBI Intel recourse never need to explain why. Anyway scrutinizing distraction from Insecta nuisance found yours truly pondering impossible odds stacked against this elusive drone (YES), this supposition finds a "NON FAKE" assertion Musca domestica gets used to hone in on random (a for instance) chosen guys, who share the christened name this Matthew Scott Harris, interestingly enough tend tubby a lone ranger clear ring stream of consciousness muck cob bray undertaken (with grave solemnity) while awaiting for divine intervention with any luck after reciting pater noster, while this drake didst quack like a duck, hoop fully heard by cosmic consciousness differentiating my unique cluck among the bajillion of other angry bird, calls and even accompanied by snorting from one buck king bronco minister, whose birth debut occurred, viz astrologic Capricorn sign butta no fault could hash tag, nor pin blame circumstance attributed to nobody in particular recognizing accounting held for no logical rhyme or courtesy of posthumously feted author Ayn Rand who, birthed Genre Objectivism creates novel page turner starring John Galt (yeah...yeah..yeah... him of Atlas Shrugged) waiting by Howard Roark named Fountain Head (with mine pent up insult ting barrage of regular play station expletives, and time soon to call quits), where protracted radar enforced grunts to halt coon sitter hub lee delayed by... an unexpected Alien abduction (fortunately nsync with my gestalt) this male (terrific, sarcastic fault less rhapsodic, quixotic, poetic, magnetic, exalt ting kinetic, Italic, generic, energetic, dolt copacetic, atheistic adult prayed for nothing short of being struck by a (NON binding mortally Wounding) strunken white hot lightening bolt.