Brainfarts for the End of September

Some people are just N.B.A.s (Natural Born Arseholes). Little did they know that they're mere pissants. A pimple on the butt of humanity, as they used to say on USENET.


When I was a wee lad...wee-er than right now, the act of running did not exist. What we adults call running was merely the default mode of transport for us. Everywhere I went I needed to get as fast as possible.

Whenever adults chastise children in public for running they just don't get it. Kids have short legs and the world is vast!

So shuddup and let your child get to that somewhere!


My writing is a deception.

I attempt to appear smarter than I really am. In real time, I am incapable of insouciantly throwing witty words or thoughtful phrases. The powers of intuitive improvisation eludes me.

What I do is arrange ideas with the best words I can so poorly think of. Then I trim and trim the text into a topiary of boring prose that people are usually too lazy to read.

If the result does not move you, then I've just flatulated a whole lot of hot-air nothings into the world.
If the result appears pleasing and aesthetic, then it's because the English language is beautiful.

It takes time and meticulous mind-straining.

In other words, I cheat.

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