Apparently people don’t think their gonna get hacked anymore. Let me remind you, you’re gonna get hacked. Not only that, someone is gonna take all of your shit, down to your couch from the delivery truck. They’re gonna fucking hack your hospital records to make sure the nurse over-medicates and kills you. And then they’re gonna hack your funeral, to make sure your body is shipped to Siberia for burial.
I have so many things to do today; trust me when I say, you don’t want to be me. I have 50 punk teenagers coming to my house for gratuitous festivities, to celebrate their worthiness in this world, which in turn, by extension, will attempt to celebrate my idiocy.
Markets are soft, like weak men who don’t go to the gym. One punch and this fucker is going down.
I almost feel like the Cat in the Hat dude, all cranky and shit, from Green Eggs and Ham. I don’t like this shit, here, there or anywhere. I need to chill the fuck out, drink my God damned coffee and get all zen-ful and shit. That is funny. It’s like asking a savage dinosaur to go on a vegan diet, you know, to lower his cholesterol and shit.
Fuck my cholesterol.
In two days we celebrate ‘Merica, amidst beer’d cans, hot dogs, and sticks of dynamite. Sure, some fingers will be blown–the fuck–off. But it will be worth it, no? Those pesky Red Coats thought they could tax us without representation: WRONG. Look at us now, hardly taxed and so represented, and shit (extra rainbow’d flag)
Good day to you.