My Latest Bowel Movement

So I’m going to go out and try this, eh? I’m going to try just splorting out all over the page in a desperate attempt to get something, ANYTHING posted here before the fury of my military-grade backspace can destroy it with laser-guided precision.

 

 

I’ve started and stopped this page so many times that I’ve lost the ability to discern between death throes and birthing pains. While I’ve been known to do my best Mark Twain impression in the past (sans all that er uh baggage I guess) and give a funderful quote or three, I’m not entirely known in the world for my skill with the written word. In the past year or so I’ve attempted, perhaps more often than ever, to get into a routine of squeezing my melon (distinct from my “melons”) for enough juice to fill up 6-7 paragraphs per day. Shit, even when I’ve got a kill-streak going, something will come along and snatch my attention like a (add politician joke –will). Maybe I’ve got a disability of some sort? Or an imbalance, where my mouth runs at ten thousand miles an hour and my brain twenty, but it all comes down the assembly line like Lucille Ball is addicted to painkillers and unable to perform.

 

 

Yes, it’s ranting and raving of a particularly masturbatory nature. No, talking about how I’m unable to figure out content creation is not, in of itself, content. Or shit, maybe it is? I’ve already explained several times that I don’t understand what I’m doing. I just want to entertain the nice people. When I see the world around me, the things I think and feel seem to sharply contrast with what I’ve given is the expectation of the world around me. The world as it is currently gives me the amazing ability to not only “get the evil out” and relieve the pressure on my brain at a lightning-quick pace (I hope one day that I learn how to properly use hyphens).

 

Yeah, I gotta do better. It’s easy to whip out my dick in public

It’s easy to whip out my phone on the bus and go on a 1,000 character rant about dogs eating dog poop with their butt like a vacuum cleaner and later they throw up fully formed dog food and whimper because they’re confused at what God has made them. That’s the part that makes me laugh. Making the sausage is the hard part – that’s the part I struggle with on a daily basis and must continue to pound, like a judge’s gavel on its…gavel stand? I think that’s the name for it. I must continue to pound and try, over and over, to let my freak flag fly. As Michael Jordan once said:

 

 

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