Spiritual constipation, coupled with diarrhea of the vocal cords, and abject moral bankruptcy... I love words. Except whenever I don't. God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. How do you know it's a him? What? Just because some self-important, anal-retentive preacher said so? Or because you read it in a book? Please. You've completely ignored the Mother Goddess. You treat our planet, our own species, and other species as well, as though it was all just a plaything put here for your own personal amusement. A complete lack of respect for the Sacred. Total indifference to all but your own whims. Narcissus Rex. King Baby. President Trump. Royal Feces. Useless as tits on a bull.
One of my cats stepped on my dick while I was asleep, woke me up with a sudden and inevitable "Ow! Motherfucker!" And it was still more enjoyable than anything on the 200+ channels of drivel the idiot box has to offer. Merry fucking Christ's Mass.
Here's some lovely Punk sounds for your auditory stimulation: youtube.com/watch?v=vx3kgKTX4Y8 Wake up, Donnie! An out of place disembodied jet engine is about to come crashing thru the roof and squish you like a roach...
I think I'll go outside now and smoke a bowl of Frootloops.
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