Politics is a lot of flapdoodle with equal amounts flap and doodle.

Humanity’s inanity is gentrified by vanity.

A critique of you-not-me, has all the marks of malarkey.

Drivel, bull and balderdash, add gobbledygook, make hooey hash.

Collaboration is the whole kit and caboodle; flapdoodle is just the view from a single noodle.

Flap has the clap and needs to nap.

Claptrap functions as a petty satrap.

Infinite is guff, until it meets with quite enough.

Flap is storm surf, silence sets of glassy combers.

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