If you see me throwing objects, such as small chairs or paint cans, it is in the best interest of the universe, for

these are sacred actions. If I wake up, go to work, sit at my desk, and I’m wearing no pants, I am merely participating in a pre-scripted perfect world created by the perfect-perfect non-material blob of holy energy know as Jeebus. He sits on a flaming lamb of righteousness, chomping on a bit of hickory and the bones of the nonbelieving pot-smoking anti-capitalist losers over on Johnson that do nothing but roll cigarettes and listed to folk music.

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