I know no-one called raymond, but if raymond was god, and if i believed in god, then i'd tell him to fuck himself and smear the condensed dirt/shit/gravel/spit that formed on the crust of our eyes and roads on his hair as brick shampoo, to grow out of his teenage angst phase and quit bitching. He bitches more than my mother. He bitches and throws up a hurricane, some dead black kids and the multitude of our shot in the ass lifestyles. CENSORSHIP? who gives a shit about that, because im suppoesed to. or i did for english, i wrote an entire letter on fucking censorship in 5 minutes that i delayed for 2 months for you Petrie. You self indulgant cunthole. I wrote a goddamn poster on ARCHETYPES. who the shit gives a shit about archetypes. The princess bride? William Goldman can suck my nonexistent dick. I stood in front of class and pretended to be a disabled guy, and i fucking hate that. I had to twitch and pull my hand up to my ear while speaking in tones of Kurt Vonnegut to commemorate his death. And you ask me why i skipped all my lessons? I'd rather sniff the powder of crushed Rolaid than do the Biology lab and listen to robust mormon humor. Why does it surprise you that id rather sit in a cafetaria with others chewing on fresh eggs and diluted ketchup than put up with nicholas steno projectile vomit and a class of drawing out your own digestive track. Generation Revolution my ass, we're the fucking unborn city of knoxville, raping the air of oxygen and other shit. We're the book of windows X.P defacing the TD square with our toy guns and run down eyes. Raymond, you are a bastard. you fucking made me a trench doll with gay nails and gay smiles. i cant even close the blinds without breaking a thread. I wrote down everything i should live for, and it comes up to the 7th harry potter book (like what the fuck?) and having sex with stuart murdoch. I'll get you some brandy, a bowl full of acid and we'll become gravities bitches, and when you finally die i'll just say 'go fuck youself'.