since we can't compete with martyred saints, we'll douse ourselves in gasoline...

sometimes, people make me sick and tired.

this world makes me sick and tired.

we're a stomping mob of jackbooted thugs concerned only with what we want and need. how do i feel? we scream at the top of our lungs expecting someone nearby to tell us exactly what we want to hear, which is almost never the bold, cold, hard truth.

bring on the plague, we need a thinning out.

thursday, if you care.

darth sardonic