I'm in a dark place. Which is a good thing. If you ever encounter me in a bright place, you should probably say prayers and kiss your fat ass goodbye, fair witness, because I have finally figured out how to bring on the bomb big time.
I have finally come to grips with the fact that one day I will have to grow old and die. This did not invoke in me that kind of Nancy Kerriganish response of "Why me? Why me?" that I had expected would come with the realization that my dreams of immortality and the accumulation of immense wealth that I could use to purchase pleasure and fame had been dashed by something as cruel and capricious as reality.
In fact, I hardly noticed any change in my outlook, attitude, or lack of belief in anything or anyone.
I'm a pataphysician, for Jarry's sake! I can handle imaginary setbacks. I can roll with the absinthe Hawaiian punches. I can bounce back from the bin edge in this endless Punch and Judy show and be the Mickey Rourke of American Literature, resilient, ugly, and smelling like low tide by Lanvin.
Does my insignificant penis look fat to you in these Hanes? How about poking through this hole in a Dulcea watermelon rind? Please, be truthful. I have been working hard to reduce the obscene girth of this petty weenie for reasons totally unclear to me. I was visited by someone from the Vatican. That's as much as I can say.
In previous lives, I had much more fun and I suspect that in subsequent lives I will have even more for having played my part in bringing on the bomb.
The title of this post is an ironic pun about buttfucking an inside joke for fun and profit. Don't you wish you were me?
It's there for the taking.