blogging is so fuckin stupid. like you. you are fuckin stupid. and i hate your guts. more than i hate jew guts. and i HATE jew guts. i hate you just as much as i hate strawberries. and i fuckin HATE strawberries. and mangoes. mangoes are shitastic. but not really. cuz that would be awesome. and mangoes arent awesome. you know what else isn't awesome? you. you are fuckin disgusting and i hate your face. i hate how you have eyes. and i hate how those eyes are reading this blog. i hate this blog. and your blog. and your mom's blog. and firewood logs. and the frumpy plump frogs that sit on those logs like lumpy eskimo dogs but cooler and cog like the rim of a wheel that is frivolous steel on an automobile parked on the top of the tippity top spot of a barking parking lot of frogs dogs and cogs and other what have you not's. naught. i fuckin hate pogs. and slammers. and kool-aid fruit jammers. i want to bash that red bellied bastard with a giant jack hammer. that will stop his ohhh yeaahhhh yammers and his blatant lack of grammar. he never gets me hammered. or enables me to stammer to cause a loudly clamor. glamor glamor glamor. i live for glamor. but this blog is not glamorous. so fuck it like a bucket. smut duck, suck it. poop. goop. goobity goober. i sound like you look and you look like a fool. it must be April, you tool of Toolville, you unmasked Raul. are you ready to thrill? cuz your smut duck bill fits the bill so if you will lie perfectly still i might not kill you like i kill little girls. guts. oh nuts. an offensive rut. but i can't shut down or even shut up, so what what what is the butt of the but? a cigarette butt or a general "but" with a following statement stating "saved from grace" to brace that downfall onto pavement base where we pave your face with crooked hooks from crooked books until you look like a crooked crook. that oughta teach you not to look at a frog or a cog or even this blog.
p.s. post-shit. post-sappy. have a happy April fool's, step stool.