Death And Glory
There´s no Death or Glory, there´s Death and Glory, which means a lot of Life & Love! N sure, it´s got a silver lining, J good boy gone bad. The unique E Con OMG sharpest point of the hole story! BANG
The Clash, Therapy?, Running Wild, The Cure, Cradle Of Filth, endlessly connecting the golden Gemma Ward dots, without any harassment, unlike saraH silverwomaN, Merrykan actress and comedian, filling in all the economy pieces, in the grandiose finale of Death And Glory. And even the extremely romantic, good-natured Uncle Lee or D screams, with his melodramatically melted ice cream truck waiting outside rather than deliciously inside, aaah, gone to Love waste to fertilize the annals of His gr8est LOVE Story. Fuck, Baby! Ave MaRRRia or Malaria or MarriYAher, stopping that famed grave silence racket of a normal serial killer. Big deal.
My armed and dangerous bodyguard is back in “The Love Is An Island” spotlight, a good sign for Da Pro Sylphur Mun surfing in the Sheeshouth West sea, right? Bu bu butt, he´s a real rookie, a total amateur, poised to only make a huge mess. Mess like Lionel Messi scoring high in Qatar, like his gated or walled or stalled 8football diarrhea.
But thank God we have the bad ass boss, the OG, oh God, the skillful cleaner/artist with his painting TOOL business suitcase to tidy up any mess!
Are you in the mocking crosshairs? OH NO is marking my bloody, not too prettyish British words, pulling the Love trigger, not my robotic arm. Disarmed with a genuine smile. BLOOD EVERYWHERE. Not kidding, not fake! Sticky. Warm. Edible brains blown up in the Justice Done air. Serve yourself, Hannibal! No cooking necessary. So bliss-scented. Fresh. Water, please? For some peace refreshment of the distressed shareholders. Obviously.
The absoluely amazing camera man, still kinda keeping a low profile while flying skyhigh as a Bull´s Eye kite since everyday is Fryday in Love, has captured the priceless moment from the Tower of Babel. The higher art of rebellion, having the lower hand. Cold. And still kinda funereal. I just LUV everything made in China$$, so hoD! Committing a phoney crime. Stained fun. Like the musical revelation of Baby Lone, or Loon, for that strange love hole matter. You know me, Epiphany Beyond A Biblical Scale, where it only seems there´s no epiphany of any scale incarnated. Oops! Did I just do that? Or did I do just that? Painted it.
This is a ziggurat dedicated to the Mesopotamian god Marduk in Babylon.
Bullet-ridden is almost, wink wink, the same as asking riddles, my totally harmless slang of bullet-riddled. Maybe. Google, gurgle, gurgle, waterboarding might impress, describes bullet-ridden as adjective. If something is riddled with bullets or bullet holes, it is full of bullet holes, there is no other way around it. Sorry for being this explicit. Yet graphic violence is NOT condoned here! No silence is encouraged.
The selling like hot cakes newspaper headline reads: Body of Silver Surfer Found Riddled With Bullets. Gripping. The Sentinel of the Spaceways blown to wavy masterpieces! Not like RIP, though, the spectacular war or show must go on however less. The selling like hot cakes newspaper headline should be more like Rust in PLEASE ME! Like really! LOL! But that may be another hairy post titled “The Real Life Rapunzel Fairy Tale” after some careful evaluation/consultation with the Manager on whether it will exclusively remain for ultra private use or public, really expensive, consumption.
Epitaphs are tough to build, but it´s the rough Anarchy journey, sexploited, journou, you know, to get there, which is well, wise, and even worthwhile, you know or don´t! Such a vampiric/gothic/hippie SCREWMEDRIVER romance, that must never end in the grave or beyond the cradle of fear or filth, da f..k, da f..k, da f..k, da f..k, da f..k, da f..k, an old, broken FArt record from the Cradle to enslave …
Hey
Now every cheap hood strikes a bargain with the world
And ends up making payments on a sofa or a girl
"Love and hate" tattooed across the knuckles of his hands
Hands that slap his kids around 'cause they don't understand how
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
And every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock and roll
Grabs the mic to tell us he'll die before he's sold
But I believe in this and it's been tested by research
He who fucks nuns will later join the church
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Oh, ah ah ah, ow, ow
Oh, ah ah ah, ow, ow
Oh, ah ah ah, ow, ow
Fear in the gun-sights, they say lie low
You say ok, don't wanna play the show
Now all you're thinking, "Was it death or glory now?"
Playing the blues for pennies sure looks better now
Death or glory
Just another story
Death or glory
Just another story
From every dingy basement, on every dingy street
Every dragging handclap over every dragging beat
It's just the beat of time, the beat that must go on
If you've been trying for years, we 'lready heard your song
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Death or glory
Just another story
Gonna march a long way
Fight a long time
Got to travel over mountains
Got to travel over seas
We're gonna fight you, brother
We're gonna fight 'til you lose
We're gonna raise trouble
We're gonna raise hell
We're gonna fight you, brother
Raise hell
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Death or glory
Just another story
Death or glory
Becomes just another story
Heaven kicked you out
You wouldn't wear a tie
Staring at some pictures by yourself
At something that you want to have but will never get
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
You get drunk every night
You can't get drunk on life
Shouting at the world you'll never change
But it's what's inside you've got to rearrange
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Heaven kicked you out
Heaven kicked you out
Breaking up for what you never have
Losing everything all things you've ever had
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Reach for the riffle, go for the gun
Saddle the beast huge load to heave
Unstoppable bull race now begun
Cry for the slaughter who would believe
Hunting the red one, blood on their breath
Searching horizons for clues of the kill
Blowing their own horn, stinking of death
Tally ho.
Touch of the tail but what to expect
Dog don't believe why to die for the queen
Lies to the allies, wrath with respect
Blood hounds of Hades, heeding the scream
Pounding of hooves they cannot control
Mud flying high as shit hits the fan
Break for the border, the thrill of it all
Tally ho.
Clawing the reigns
Of a world gone mad treason
Breaking the chains
Death or glory, pride or pain
Breaking down the rules of greed and gain
Hunter's hounds in the hands of the hunted
Death or glory
Clawing the reigns
Of a world gone mad treason
Breaking the chains
Death or glory, pride or pain
Breaking down the rules of greed and gain
Hunter's hounds in the hands of the hunted
Death or glory
Death or glory, pride or pain
Death or glory
I'm going nowhere
Don't look so scared
I'm going nowhere
So tell me that you love me again
Tell me that you care
So tell me that you love me again
Yeah I'm going nowhere
Don't look so scared
I'm going nowhere
Could be
Could be
Could be
I'm already there
Her penultimate sighs called softly on the kindling wind
Her saintly eyes filling with tears, lifting with truth
And then a golden flash like the onset of heaven
Leaving her screams breaking my heart
And in the grip of fire I knew the death of love
Where will you be when they tense for warfare?
What will you see with your innocence there?
Where will you be my darling?
Where will you be when they tense for warfare?
Where will you be when God is glorifying?
There we will be between the dead and dying
Where will you be my darling?
Where will you be when God is glorifying?
Prophecies and glory forge a massive disdain
For lying passive in the shadows whilst the enemy reigns
Devoted to the votive, holy standard above
By command of the king of heaven came the death of love
Where will you be when they're vilifying?
How will they see when the truth is blinding?
Where will you be my darling?
Where will you be when they're vilifying?
Where will you be when the dark is rising?
How will you keep from it's terrorizing?
Where will you be my darling?
Where will you be when the dark is rising?
Burning was the sunset like the portent of doom
On the saintly iron maiden as she fell from her wound
But visions and ambition never listened to submission
And as she was on a mission from the highest above
To Lord upon the slaughter like a sword through hissing water
She arose where archers sought her for the death, the death of love
The righteous death of love
The righteous death of love
Gilles adored her drama, her suit of pure white armor
Blazed against the English in a torrent of light
And as they rallied onto night
A cancer fled his soul, dissolving
Framed amid the thick of fire
Aflame, a Valkyrie
She made him click without desire
And in his eyes she swam a Goddess
And even when they caught her breath
Her words would leave a scar
For only in the grip of darkness
Will we shine amidst the brightest stars
How will you breathe when their wheels are turning?
How will you know if the sky is burning?
Where will you be my darling?
How will you breathe when their wheels are turning?
Where will you be when Babel builds my fire?
Will you not flee and label me pariah?
Where will you be my darling?
Where will you be when they light my pyre?
Aligned with Joan in all that was enthroned and divine
He swore to score the crimes, jackdaws poured on this dove
Crimes he knew alone derived from minds of the blind
The church unfurled for murder perched upon the death of love
Framed amid the thick of fire
Aflame, a Valkyrie
She claimed the skies were lit with spires
And in his eyes she swam a Goddess
And even when she fought for breath
Her words would leave a scar
For only in the grip of darkness
Will we shine amidst the brightest stars
O MY WHY??? THAT´S WHY!!!
BU BU BUTT DON´T TELL ME ANYthing in British English, like to be full of sh.. or pervaded by something undesirable. Winnie THE Pooh? Yup, Winnie THE Pooh! Losing it? In other radish words, or in rawish or ravish or relish conclusion to your illustrious tribute I attribute that the delightful report was riddled with an honored middle Fingerful of celebrated errors n inconsistencies n inaccuracies, which I´m not sure are mine or yours. Pissed off? Not yet? Damn! Never mind! Nuttin! Nada! Niet! Or something like incontinent! Smells. Sings. Dirt-poor. Dances. Piss-poor. Stinks. Out of courtesy.
Performance of the Silverman Andersen Respiratory Severity Score in predicting PCO2 and respiratory support in newborns: a prospective cohort study
Abstract
Objective:
To determine if the Silverman Andersen respiratory severity score, which is assessed by physical exam, within 1 h of birth is associated with elevated carbon dioxide level and/or the need for increased respiratory support.
Study design:
Prospective cohort study including 140 neonates scored within 1 h of birth. We report respiratory scores and their association with carbon dioxide and respiratory support within 24 h.
Results:
Carbon dioxide level correlated with respiratory score (n = 33, r = 0.35, p = 0.045). However, mean carbon dioxide for patients with score <5 vs. ≥5 did not differ significantly (56 vs. 67, p = 0.095). Patients with respiratory scores ≥5 had respiratory support increased within 24 h more often than those with scores <5 (79% vs. 28%, p < 0.001).
Conclusion:
The Silverman Andersen respiratory severity score may be valuable for predicting need for escalation of respiratory support and facilitate decision making for transfer $$$ in low-resource settings.
Introduction
In 2013, over two million neonates died from the leading causes of death in children under 5 years of age: prematurity, sepsis, birth asphyxia and pneumonia [1]. The Millennium Development Goals of 2000 successfully targeted and reduced childhood mortality, but neonatal deaths have declined slower than under 5 deaths overall, and hence now almost half of all deaths under 5 years of age occur in the neonatal period [1,2,3]. The 2014 Every Newborn Action Plan highlighted key interventions required to further reduce global neonatal mortality, and among them both immediate newborn care (within the first minutes extending to one week of age) and care for small or sick babies are expected to have the greatest impact on mortality [4]. Respiratory complications are common in the newborn period. Small babies (a marker for prematurity) often develop respiratory distress syndrome (RDS) due to surfactant deficiency, while full-term newborns can suffer from infection, meconium aspiration, birth asphyxia or retained lung fluid. There is a critical need for tools to correctly diagnose and therefore appropriately triage and treat respiratory distress in this population.
Providers in settings where advanced support for respiratory failure such as CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) or mechanical ventilation are not available are often faced with the difficult decision regarding when to transfer ill newborns to a facility with higher levels of respiratory support. Especially in low-income countries, these transfers can be dangerous and draining of family resources. Meanwhile, at some facilities, there may be limited number of respiratory support devices, and decisions must be made about who is most appropriate to treat with such therapy. The judicious use of respiratory support and neonatal transfer, therefore, require an objective measure for predicting which patients are most likely to require or benefit from advanced respiratory therapies [5].
Recently, facilities in low-resource settings have used the respiratory severity score (RSS) designed by Silverman and Andersen in 1956 to quantify respiratory distress among neonates [6,7,8,9,10]. The RSS is objective, easy to learn, quick to perform and requires no expensive equipment. It can be taught to personnel with limited medical training and can be assessed without physically disturbing the patient. Studies of its validity, however, are lacking [8, 11, 12]. An ideal clinical scoring system would be correlated to other laboratory parameters by which respiratory distress is evaluated in high-resource settings to prognosticate a patient’s respiratory trajectory …
THIS DEATHINITIVE LOVE POST IS SO GLORIOUS THAT I CANNOT EVEN ILL (GOOD) USTRATE IT PROPERLY DUE TO THE EMAIL LENGTH LIMIT OF OUTLOOK.LIVE.COM. SO PLEASE CZECH OUT THE UPDATED “DEATH IS LOVE” SUBSTACK VERSION IN HALF AN HOUR OR SO, SANK YOU VERY PRETTY YELLOW SUBMARINE!
EVERYBODY READING THIS INFINITE LOVE ARTICLE SHOULD FOLLOW IN THE GENEROUS, GOOD-HEARTED DONOR´S FOOTSTEPS SUPPORTING THE DUMBA$$ TARZAN´S ONLY CAUSE = LOVE, NO MATTER WHAT!
ONE MORE TIME, PLEASURE ON REPEAT, THANK YOU FOR YOUR VALUABLE SUPPORT! DOLLARS DO EASE THE SUFFERING IN EQUAL MEASURE! SIGNED BY THE LORD OF THE RINGS …
WALKIE TALKIE, WALKIE TALKIE, ERR, MODERN TALKING
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ALL MY STAINED PAST SHEETS:
SLEEP IN THE CLEAN BED FOR ROYALTY:
LEAVE A TIP FOR THE DETERGENT:
THANK YOU!
Nice guns!