Fuck it. Nothing & no one is worth this level of bullshit. The nuance is irrevocably tainted, the center cannot hold, and it's not my duty to protect all of all y'all from the consequences of your own disastrous choices. I mean it's easy enough to do for me, but I have other things to do with my life.
WHICH IS ACTUAL, PEOPLE. I saw Damon yesterday. Damon is cool. Damon has always been cool, and now the rest of you left have degenerated so far that he might as well be Emperor. Here, it's dangerous to rule the roost: take these new clothes.
I'll put it this way: The creative spark is ROTTEN.
I'll write to the Grand (Blank) in the morning. I've been putting it off because I didn't know if it was really going to be necessary, but it's clear that something has to be done at this point, given the circumstances. The other option is more lawyers, which I consider to be an obvious trap to be avoided, aboviously.
Then again, I'm a Gemini; I might change my mind anytime. Go ahead and start deleting all your slander & defamation now, you might even speed up the site a little.
Some of you may prefer to slow it down. Go with God, Loophound. Your friends that you have left will be glad you did.
Meanwhile, the friends that I have left will be delighted to hear that I spent three grand on my testicles. Now I know that might seem like a lot, but compared to my $28,000 truck that was stolen, it seems downright cheap considering I do still have them attached... so there's no need to kiss them goodbye. Or schedule an actual Brazilian named Polly to wax my inoculation mark to a pinpoint sheen. Or, wonder why a sudden massive wave of explosive diarrhea rips through your body in about an hour and a half. That's not a prediction, just a hypothesis.
Hey, by the way, have any you ever heard of a way to brush your teeth while getting fellated? Tell you what, y'all wait here for about five f****** years and then I'll come back and tell you how I figured it out.
Authentically.
