Well now, I
never said the convenience store primitive's loving, caring sisters were paragons of society or exemplars of family values; what I've
always maintained is that despite their squalidity, they're better for the convenience store primitive than any alternative she might have, short of being permanently and rigorously planted in an insane asylum.
That's the best solution, but it's not going to happen, despite that the convenience store primitive is just as nuts as the subway cat or Dennis the Menace or the dog-torturing locust primitive.
So one explores instead the alternatives that have a
possibility of happening.
She can stay in Joplin so as to be advised, counseled, and managed by her sisters, surviving long enough to
perhaps outgrow her primitivity, or she can go out on her own, within a short time becoming chopped liver.
Her physical life is safer entrusted with her loving, caring sisters, such as they are.
Of course, it's pretty much immaterial to me, and perhaps to many decent and civilized people, the tragic fate of a primitive--we're better off without them, after all--but remember, she's not a
malicious primitive, such as the hate-filled defrocked warped primitive or truemud or the dysmenopausal Kansas school teacher or Ms. Ed or the magisterial one or that greasy deviant from Massachusetts or the vindictive primitive or the primitive with a sensitive bottom.
Just like my cousin nadin or the big guy from Bellevue or the Bostonian Drunkard or the pie-and-jam primitive, she's merely a
stupid primitive; just a primitive who doesn't have many cerebral-cells to ignite.
