posted March 23, 2009
It’s probably nothing serious. You really don’t give a shit anyways, right? So why should I?
It makes it really hard to sleep in the car seat and sit in a chair, but why should you care? You don’t. Admit it; no one really cares about me. You stare at me, you try to intimidate me. People who want to kill me find me very easily, but people who think they love me run away. You are all assholes; or at least like the cyst at the top of the crack of my ass, A REAL PAIN.
Why should I do anything about it? I think I will be like a Christian Scientist and try to read and pray away this cyst. Like I did with Hitler and Khomeini. Please don’t act like you care about me now. You much prefer a woman with fake teeth, fake tits, who sings and gives blow jobs. What did she ever do to save the world? Nothing! She has her own money and her own car and makes money for Jimmy Iovine and that is important. You also felt sorry for the guy who killed Chris Wallace and shot me point blank in the back and the ass. They are your heroes, not me. You treated them with a lot more respect than me. You love bad boys and bad girls. You refuse to execute Charles Manson but you can shoot at me. This world is a disaster waiting to happen. It is inevitable.
I want to die. We already missed every deadline I gave you. I don’t really care about your kids. I hope this cyst kills me in some way; none of you have been able to do so yet. You think I care about any of you really? I just want all of you out of my existence already. You all disgust me.
You would only care about me if I had a lot of money to give you. I already said if I had it I would donate most of it anyway. But too many of you prefer killing each other and blaming each other for this fallen world. I want out already. So you will have to forgive me if I don’t understand you when you talk to me.
I am preparing all that is needed for my funeral. Maybe you should have made me your king when I was BORN and you could have bowed down before BABY KING JESUS for real instead inanimate versions of BABY KING JESUS you IDIOTS.
P.S. To the spoiled-rotten-diva-hypocrite Aguilera. Please have your idiotic schmuck Cat Boy husband call 210 586 0050 and pay them the balance of what I owe them. They are they only people that call me regularly. Thanks for nothing, bitch.