Why I Keep a Low Profile I E Namely Remain Invisible

Why I keep a low profile i.e. namely remain invisible Alternately titled - dear readers ye each saddled as exegete to make sense little known excerpt referencing obscure passage printed calligraphy style groovy and neat found scrawled in book of Matthew which Biblical passage also replete with date of last family outing ~mid January 2020 birthday treat at Collegeville Diner. Countless reported instances occurred well... honestly maybe at least once or twice (oh and of course preposterous claims abounded made by men and even cheesy mice), where public television viewers like you dearly paid ultimate price by merely stealing quick (hesitant) glance, or if feeling brave a prolonged stare would suffice nevertheless, (whether former or latter case) their fate sealed, especially viewing against heeding sagacious advice daring themself just sneak peak of mid abdomen (mine) of course including ridiculously absurd looking headshot (none other than mine) - jarring funny bone enough to suffice. An instantaneous propensity would elicit heard all around world wide web, particularly along rolling green acres of Highland Manor) many a hee haw (mostly strangers no less) burst out laughing by ghost of George (Bernard) faux Shaw vocalizations, viz uproarious thunderous guffaw (think trademark utterance linkedin with hyena) out the mouths of babes, plus purple people eaters, and many an in and out law even envision token blushing zebra as authenticated constituting last straw that broke camel's back, who also fell over convulsing with belly aching jaw breaking, teeth clattering writhing cackle and impersonating chickens squawk king, the feeble and lame metaphors I draw though the aforementioned raw bits of good humor spurred courtesy eldest sister (she decreed exempt, and not held accountable) while celebrating recent birthday (mine) (as iterated earlier) at Collegeville Diner ~mid January 2020. Hence... unlawful and overly dangerous to affix boot impossible mission to squelch totally tubular poetic antics whereby sharing photographic likeness (mine), lest picture unleash battery of bricks getting hurled toward me at light speed, where clicks of handcuffs and leg irons would immediately shackle purportedly once worn by Jimi Hendrix, thus I felt gently brushed with Woodstock fame subsequently tolerated and welcomed skin lacerated with deep purple chafing and nicks.