The Lord wanted to rest on the seventh day, but thanks to you, He broke down & wept.
How was that my fault?
Because He caught a glimpse of your notebook filled with crude stick figure hentai.
Serves Him right for snooping, honestly.
You can hardly accuse an omniscient being of snooping. It's more like an Amber Alert set off His astral planes. Your crimes against art, & frankly, humanity as a whole were highlighted to Him.
Ugh. If  "Jesus Walks" doesn't play every time God checks in with me, I swear I'm gonna cancel my subscription to life. Actually, you know what? Scratch that. They better include my remixed bars. I'll show you.
Please. I'm begging you. Don't do this...
lately i've been / rather suicidal / think i better leave / my memoirs untitled / so blinded by sin / can't even read the bible / liable / to lose my mind / diving into white lines / rather sizable / won't forget the first time / like riding a bicycle / foaming at the mouth / homie i'm maniacal / that's undeniable / pequeno picasso / po'pablo with problems like kanye n tidal / maybe i'll od / reblog my demise like blonde on vinyl /
...I'm a consummate professional, so I hate to break the fourth wall like this, but how in the ever-living fuck could you possibly think your middle-of-the-mall slam poetry would translate well in an idiotic stream-of-consciousness blog?
It's called being ~ c o n c e p t u a l .~
Not that a cultural Neanderthal, like yourself, could possibly understand. My peers describe me as a young Banksy.
Those street ur***ns were chanting Wanksy.
Honestly, any chanting is a plus. It shows I’ve got charisma & upper-management potential written all over me.
Wait, why can't I say ur***ns? Did we not get that sample from Dickens' estate cleared?
His people shut that one down.
But on the bright side, they've approved my "David Copperfield" & "Paul Blart" buddy cop adaptation "Danger Coppershield: Panera Bread Paralegal."
What's the synopsis for that bad boy? "Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do, when they come for you," right?
Is that public domain or am I going to get form-tackled on Live PD & immediately hit with a cease-&-desist from some haggard process server?
Oh, you're definitely going to be speared by a former high school hero with undiagnosed CTE tonight.
But anyway, in my script, Kevin James & Shaq team up to save America's police forces from the widespread scourge of radical white nationalism. So far, it has been testing extremely poorly among the Thin Blue Line focus groups.
I'm surprised you haven't been pitchforked out of town like Frankenstein's monster.
Fun fact: Betsy DeVos hired me to write "Crankenstein's Monster," an anti-masturbation PSA for Christian fundamentalist charter schools.
You know Mary Shelley was only 20 when she published "Frankenstein"? Largely considered the seminal piece of science fiction literature, & more importantly, progenitor of the big-tiddy goth bae aesthetic.
You're five years older & writing dick jokes on the internet for free. Why don't you get your shit together?
Ehhhh that doesn't count.
They weren't moisturizing back then, so their 20 was really like our 65. I've got at least another 40 years of mediocrity to bask in before I have to get my shit together.
It's no surprise that God wrote your eternal design in crayons.
I'll have you know that he used one of those bougie crayon boxes with the built-in sharpener.
You really think he'd go to Hobby Lobby to snag those?
Where do you get off thinking he would deign to treat you with such kindness?
The whole duality of man whosiwhatsit complex.
Your shallow end of the gene pool undoubtedly lacks the requisite depth to encompass duality.
Let a man pretend for once, ya pessimistic ass. Where is your sense of childlike whimsy?
Alright, alright, alright, what happened if you brought one of those bougie boxes to class?
You were king of the castle. Girls shared their Go-Gurts. Homies shared their Capri Suns. You got to pick the movies before nap time. Toy Story all day, every day, baby.
Oh, now you're anthropomorphism's biggest fan? Name five of their songs without checking Spotify.
I can't. They're all backed up on my Zune.
I’m not convinced you’re even a real boy. Please tell me there’s someone up there controlling you like a puppet.
Is this because you saw my nose growing the other day when I said your haircut didn't make you look like a sex pest? I'm telling you, it was a trick of the light.
For your nose or my haircut?
Remind me to call the Coast Guard & have you walk the plank. You can join Davy Jones to spare us all the hassle.
Call me Hasselhoff since I'll be popping off underwater.
What are you even talking about? Nobody is laughing.
SpongeBob references are over-saturated now.
Oh yeah, like it's my fault Nickelodeon destroyed Hildebrand's ideological purity. What's next?
Salvador Dali doodling storyboards for Adult Swim? Monet & El Greco having a whip-around to fund their "Sports Kush & Hockey Keef" zine?
Please listen to me.
Reflect on your behavior.
Understand they're all dead.
Invest in some personal growth.
Spend less time regressing to the mean.
You are easily the world’s worst great-value Dr. Phil.

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