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Four score and seven years ago, I walked across this desolate landscape, living the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Then, the bells rang, the doves scattered, this fucktard called manga barged into my perfectly ordinary life. From then on, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, but son, lemme tell you, it soon became the merry-go-round of hell. The horror, the horror! In sum, the only thing English literature ever taught me was how to write autobios that scare the crap outta people and that I am very stupid when it comes to stuff that's not science. I left written fiction for visual porn. Go picture books!
Send me something funny, and I'll send you something distinctly less funny back.
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