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Monday, December 27, 2004


When I walk into a room for the first time, I like to pull one stranger aside and say to her, loudly so that everyone can hear, “Who are all these hideous, inbred bumblyfucks?!” I find that this announcement really separates the wheat from the chaff, socially speaking. Those who cleave unto me after I pose this question are my bosom friends for life; after we die, we will gambol in the buttercups of Elysium together. Those who hear my question and write me off as a haughty, insufferable bitch are sooner or later humiliated, ruined, and driven to an early grave with my patented Humiliation Ruination Grave-Filling Device, which now comes in a convenient pocket-pack with optional nightlight and air horn attachment.


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