He Kept Playing U2. That is Bad Karma.


It’s here! It’s here! It’s finally almost here! The end is nigh and all that shit. Futuresaurs* will be here and would have wiped us all out come Saturday. I hope you’ve started righting all your wrongs ready for when Jesus passes judgement. I haven’t. I would, of course, but there just isn’t enough time. I want to get fingered at least once more before the world ends.

I’ve recently come to learn the italics short-cut on the keyboard and I now abuse it every time I write something. Half of the time I don’t think it even makes much sense, but I do it anyway. Why? Because I’m a maverick, that’s why. a god-damn maverick of the written word. I know my punctuation and grammar is sometimes well off, but I just don’t give a fuck.

See that? It went all italics and then bang! It’s bold as well. didn’t like it? I didn’t think you would, you square. You’re just lucky I didn’t under-line something and really fuck you up. Fucking you up with words. I’m a a terrorist to your language. I don’t fit in your box. So what?

I’d just like to point out that I’m not actually a terrorist. I don’t want this flashing up on some C.I.A database and getting my house ram-raided at four in the morning because of an over-the-top safety measure.

I’m busy. Leave me to my shit.

*See previous post

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