Dear Evil Discussor... Wait a sec. You were deathly ill, yet still somehow managed to post from a hospital bed. Does that make you pathetic? Or a God?
I don't always know the answer to every question. But I'm pretty sure the answer to this is the God one.
Only a God would let nothing, no amount of pain, nor discomfort, nor lack of anything really interesting at all to say whatsoever, stand in his Godly way, in order to blog.
Only a God would think first of his minions of blogtards, who need their daily ration of blogtardation for sustenance. For without said blogstenance, they most surely would start to cough, and then choke, then shrivel up and die a sad death of boredom and horrible death awfulness.
Only a God would have such superhuman blogging powers so as to not be deterred from blogging by the presence of an IV in his arm, a bedpan by his side, and a probing finger up his ass about once a day. Which was already kind of encompassed in the first "Only a God," with the whole "pain and discomfort" part, but whatever, go with me here, I'm riffing. And also, I'm God, so shush, douchenose.
Only a God would use the word "douche" so very much.
Only a God would refer to himself as Bloggy Oggy Oggins, or Bilbo Bloggins, or even Dr. Fucknuts, every once in a while. Especially when alone, and standing in front of a mirror, trying on hats. What all this has to do with anything, I'm not sure. You tell me.
Only a God would, when bedridden in a hospital bed, I don't know, feel the need to get someone else, like maybe his ladyfriend even, maybe I don't know, type up and post his blogs for him maybe, cause said God maybe feared losing his blog fame, and blog fortune, and overwhelming blog adoration, and can't afford to lose a single one of his 10 to 14 daily hits, cause just maybe those hits just might be the only way that that God, kind of, gets any feeling of security, and sense of self-worth, and confidence, and sort of feels truly accepted really, and it's awful, and sad, and whatever, I guess, maybe, fuck off, I hate you, yet I need you so... I'm a fucking God, you fucker! A fucking God, I say!
So, yeah. The answer to this question is surely that I am a God. Come to think of it, possibly the God of Patheticness. But that's a God nonetheless. So, whatever. I'll take it.
Yours,
God
And if you don't fucking even fucking know what I'm talking about here, read this, you blerdnose doucheface, and get the fuck with it, douchey.
Only a God would let nothing, no amount of pain, nor discomfort, nor lack of anything really interesting at all to say whatsoever, stand in his Godly way, in order to blog.
Only a God would think first of his minions of blogtards, who need their daily ration of blogtardation for sustenance. For without said blogstenance, they most surely would start to cough, and then choke, then shrivel up and die a sad death of boredom and horrible death awfulness.
Only a God would have such superhuman blogging powers so as to not be deterred from blogging by the presence of an IV in his arm, a bedpan by his side, and a probing finger up his ass about once a day. Which was already kind of encompassed in the first "Only a God," with the whole "pain and discomfort" part, but whatever, go with me here, I'm riffing. And also, I'm God, so shush, douchenose.
Only a God would use the word "douche" so very much.
Only a God would refer to himself as Bloggy Oggy Oggins, or Bilbo Bloggins, or even Dr. Fucknuts, every once in a while. Especially when alone, and standing in front of a mirror, trying on hats. What all this has to do with anything, I'm not sure. You tell me.
Only a God would, when bedridden in a hospital bed, I don't know, feel the need to get someone else, like maybe his ladyfriend even, maybe I don't know, type up and post his blogs for him maybe, cause said God maybe feared losing his blog fame, and blog fortune, and overwhelming blog adoration, and can't afford to lose a single one of his 10 to 14 daily hits, cause just maybe those hits just might be the only way that that God, kind of, gets any feeling of security, and sense of self-worth, and confidence, and sort of feels truly accepted really, and it's awful, and sad, and whatever, I guess, maybe, fuck off, I hate you, yet I need you so... I'm a fucking God, you fucker! A fucking God, I say!
So, yeah. The answer to this question is surely that I am a God. Come to think of it, possibly the God of Patheticness. But that's a God nonetheless. So, whatever. I'll take it.
Yours,
God
And if you don't fucking even fucking know what I'm talking about here, read this, you blerdnose doucheface, and get the fuck with it, douchey.
posted by EVIL DISCUSSOR at 2:19 PM
3 Comments:
Suck has reached an all time low.
You would probably know. After all, you are an authority on reaching low and sucking.
No, no E.D. you got it twisted: I am the authority on reaching around, not low. And sucking...oh man I could write a book on it. Can I include you and your blog?
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