I'm being made write this by several thousand miscroscopic monkeys on my back. The weid hatchets and they're incredibly resistant to fire. In fact, they've lit themselves on fire and have started to jizz the results of the gasoline orgy they're having all over my back.

I suppose you could say a peer is putting pressure on me to do this.
Another way to say it would be ''Pierre is putting pressure on me to do his''
I doubt this possibility as Pierres 'puter has been stolen by buccaneers of the Anglo-Hatian Merchant Navey.

But then it's not all the monkeys fault.
It is mostly their fault but I'm here because I want to be.

I think I'm here because I've got something to say. Something monumental that will change everything; your perception, your bigotry, your name,age and phone number will all be changed because of the words I type. I am the new literary messiah, I am the Jesus of the second Millienium, I'm you're uncle Paul and I fucked your mother.

I didn't regret it either.

I live in an imprenitrable frotress on the isle of Your Mind.
I'm the fucking neo-Christ
I'm a parasite, I'm in and staying.
There's no 'if', there's complete certainty in every single thing I do.


Get used to it.
Enjoy the blog.

:)