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Your barbarics have reached an all-time matrimony with my anecdotal totem pole of Quetzalcoatl. Now extinguished is the long gone rotting flame thrower of my unaffection for thee, at whom I scoff and spit in disgust, knowing that the effervescent truths will spring forth in chorus and exclaim mighty magnitude upon this misbegotten plasmaland supreme. Behold, reality is in fact an inescapable paradox of madness into which one can fall if properly born and kept alive. So when you reach the almighty summit, may you plummet into what it is you wanted from it, kids. And may the pharoahs cackle in your favor, for thou art one, a serpent eating its own tail. Alas, you flail to no avail, forever poking holes in your intangible dirigible of a soul.
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