Here's the next installment of our post-singularity hero. I like updating on Sunday, but feel that I should do it more often, but I got other shit. A whole lotta other shit. I got mad comics, historical shit, short stories, scribbles, ideas, all sorts of crazy shit. I don't know why, but the tumor in my brain is forcing out all kinds of creative shit, like some kind of production anus, squeezing out mind turds for all the creepy, watching fecalphiliacs out there. Here it is. Un-washed and writhing nude on the floor of the universe, drunkenly swaying through parties that end in uncontrollable sobs, windows down screaming at pedestrians on the way to some coked out endeavor in a seedy club with many, many men. It's crazy the word salad shit that comes out of my fingers sometimes.
CRAZY.
Also, Osama bin Laden was fucking killed and his body spirited away to locations unknown by a team of hard core, maniacal killers today.
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