These kids man. They stare at me when I sleep. They make me have dreams. Bad dreams. I get that cramp you get when you have to piss really bad… so bad… My stomach tightens and I can hear Twisted Sister in the background. They won’t turn it down either. It goes to eleven… maybe 12. And all they do is laugh at me. Little fuckers will get theirs.
American culture is on the down for one reason. Walt Disney died. He held the collars of the creative beasts behind the company. Sure, they gotta few by Walt such as the “sexy stars” in the Lion King and the cuss words in Ghost, but for the most part Walt kept the chain and yanked it hard. And then the old fart had to croak and drop em… The result is a bunch of creative pill droppers with crayons and a motive to teach our kids the truth.
Its no wonder they haunt me. Its no wonder its so dark outside at 5pm. This drive is killing me. Man… fuck-a-donald duck.