And then I had a dream. And in this dream I was floating through the blogosphere and my brain was my asshole, and I was pooping, pooping wild and free, and my little floating gnome turds dribbled down from the heavens, and then they teamed up and battled evil. And then, because creation is destruction, they padded on their little shit
gnome feet up to every single fucking comics industry professional on earth, and they stuck their little shit gnome peckers in their comics industry asses, and then they ejaculated my shit brains into the whole comics industry, and when the comics industry exploded it was as beautiful as the boils gently erupting on Pol Pot’s shiny scrotal sac.
And so I was inspired. And who knows what I will create next? Who, I ask you? Who?
That’s lovely, a sort of gentle, reflective Sunday sort of vibe I know I’m thrilled to have slipped on in the lightly frozen sheep meadow of my weekend. I’m really pretty excited about the boils gently erupting on Pol Pot’s shiny scrotal sac.
Am I a savage person? My conscience is clear.
Yuxk.
If your gnome turds are floating, that means you have too much fat in your diet.
Aha! I was wondering about that, actually.