Warm, buttery garlic hatred

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The garlicky butter drips down a console at Warm, Buttery Garlic Hatred Control.
This article is burly men unfolding umbrellas.
  Maybe you should help it on its way.  
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Down in the cellars, in the coolness, lies the machinery behind all that propels modern civilization; warm, buttery garlic hatred. When cornered, the wildebeest tries talking his way out of a situation. Sadly, ontology does not allow us to be all that we could be, unless we join the Army. That will harness your warm, buttery garlic hatred into the means of production and defense of the state.

Some more[edit]

Karl Marx once sat on this very bench, thinking his Commie thoughts, planning and plotting against the Petite Bourgeoisie in the cockles of his heart. That's where it all started, him and that Friedrich Engels fellow. From there, it was simply a matter of other people, who think they're smarter than they actually are, repeating the poisonous blumaroo conclusions of a self-contradictory rhetorical trainwreck.

Just watch Star Trek, and you'll see more of the same. Well, not exactly the same, but same enough for some of us. The bulk of our drinking water can pass for jet fuel, while the rest is actually burning. Burning, coming out of the hose, out of the kitchen faucet, fires filling the bath tubs. No small feat.