Mind of Military Men of Myanmar

"Hey, wordjones," say the soldier of Myanmar. "Are the verbs conjugal? Ha ha ha." Suddenly, the special teeth of Biminim produce velocity. "Ha ha ha! Wordjones chiclets! My fisting of fury brings the percussion." "Ooh, chiclets!" are words around the open fist. "Are you windpiping American melodies of now?" Chuckles and bellysquirms at chiclets. "I want to squeeze the Peach," release mumbles from a voice of Biminim. "At the big Peach, I have a virtue of Myanmar to share with American eyes." "Big Peach of America?? The bloat and stinky? The parade of salty bosoms? A devil of thongs? This is not the think of Myanmar! Only the military mind of Myanmar is that beautiful braining! Only think of beautiful braining!" "My words are in justice. I percolate an artistry of ineluctable--" "Your word pastries have rancid butter!" chant the military men of Myanmar. "Bow down to our protuberance." "I fancy not the protuberance." "The protuberance of power is a gong of submission. Here is the power of flavoraid. Drink it, drink it, drink it. You cannot ride a horse!"