Talk to the Plywood

I have to made some kind of astrological solution to my legal family’s problems to aggratieate the satellite on the pastor vessel to abide by my own interwoven keeping’s of the faith out of order of spite of irrational jubilation of my incandescent methods.  To avoid going to the court and complaining that I can’t talk to my mother myself without some person overhearing and talking for her or talking to me for her as intermediary to no resolve like the red spot of Jupiter pointing to the earth to get an agreement to a mercury on sun which tilt pending the equinox into agreement structurioned on the earth like a modern Stonehenge apparatus for timing me into the crowded ground of Mother Nature green earth unbeknownst canonically the Columbo probe or the satellite of Saturn because I’m the kind of guy they don’t like to disobey in retrospect.