I mean, I don’t know, I’m pretty god damn sure I’m the coolest blogger there is. What do you think about that. One of the most powerful sentences there ever was. Right there. First. Fuck that “it was the best of times it was the worst of times shit” Screw the shit about clocks striking 13. That’s so weak. So fucking European to think that stringing together a few words so pathetic my weeds in my lawn could recite them. All those sentences you hear buffoons recite are the first sentence. Aren’t they. You know, those pantie waste nerdy bitches that are trying to impress you by making you think that they are smart and esoteric in some hip way. You know why they can only recite the first sentence? You know Why? Because that’s all the they know. They don’t anything in the rest of the god damned book besides the author’s name. I’m the coolest because I know you are full of shit.
So, the question you are asking is why the hell did he just write what he wrote. Well, because I know it. You know it and the rest of the bitches that come here know it too. As soon as they see my brilliance explode all over them it has hit them. Reality. The riddle solve. My enigmaism has been defined. While I knew it all along. Making you look even dumber.
Listen, It’s not hard. I’m know it for a fact. Cooler people than you, know they are cool because they can pull it off. They know they have what it takes to make it happen and to command as stoically as Sean Connery in “Hunt For Red October”. Which was right at the pinnacle of his career and not soon after where Will Farrell bitch slapped him with his coolness and mocked Connery into forever being linked to a bitch slapper (ala John Atkins) and mockery of over caricatured Irish Drunks.
I’m the coolest blogger there is because I was there when it happened. That definitive moment when I saw it. It was I. I was awesome. I’m awesome. Everything was fucking awesome. I’m cool. -1 x -1 = positive bitch. Positive I’m the coolest.
You see, as I started to say a few sentences ago, I’m cool because I know you know that I can expose your weak shit you bring for exactly what it is. I know you. I know what you think. I know how you think you are better than me. Than everyone. I see you for what you are and I know. You know it. Bang. I’m cooler than you.
You see, I get it. I know you get it. You know I get it. I know that you know that because I know and live the way I live that I’m the shit. Don’t get that? tough, I do which makes me cooler by far. I’m the coolest F’ing blogger here and now. I’m so cool I don’t need exclamation points to signify how cool I am. I’m so cool I’m typing this with a 1948 Macallan on the table a whiff away. I have the keys to the cool kingdom and only few people I know are with me behind the door you only wish you could even touch your soft non-calloused hands on. Those of you that hung a few weekends ago and have in the past know. You can vouch. Testify. Verify and Unify.
I’m the coolest. Sorry. I’m not finishing last in the race you want me to run. I’m making you follow me like a 8 week puppy follows its master. I’m still here. You aren’t. I walk the path I want to walk because. I can. I swagger. I saunter. Yes, that’s fucking right. Saunter.
Next.