O Internet of Mine

It’s really hard to write stuff and publish it. I mean, not technically, in that regard it’s just editing a markdown file for Cloudflare to npm fuck -it to, but…

I cannot turn off that little voice that tells me I have nothing new to say, that I have no new perspectives to animate with douchey thought leader drivel. I don’t want to stoop to bankrupt crap craftery.

None-the-fucking-less, other people squat down to force their shit out directly into the fan. How am I supposed to go to lunch on Monday with Hank when we ALLLLL saw the abosolute dumpster fire of filth he left on LinedIn. Motherfucker backed that Dodge Ram 3500 full of shit into the Bass Pro Shops lot and just left it there for us to… read? God, please end my suffering.

So anyway. Fuck it. What more harm could I possibly do by shitting my own awful trash into the internet. Maybe my shit will like, land on top of some other shit and loosten it up, making it easier to scrape it all off later.

So now you know, this is what I feel like adding Content to the Internet. Yet another defacation sprinkler, blasting fecal matter onto the wall.

This is what you deserve. This is what I deserve.

Let us synchronize our depression into a double helix of shareholder value, rocketing toward the sun. If we’re lucky, we’ll burn up and die. If we’re not lucky, we will pull up our pants and try again harder next Fiscal Year.

Your brother in business, Cory