I'm Not An Hour Late. You Guys

A Child's Death Is Really Of Less Value Than An Adult's. I Mean, What Could You Really Accomplish In A Year? Not Much, And That's Not Even Talking About, You Know, Pay-wise.

I Wouldn't Call Myself A Modern Shakespeare, But Shakespeare Was Probably To His Generation What I Am To Mine.

I Think I Suffer From Some Mild Depression.

I've Had To Remove All Mirrors From My Home. I Just Can't Seem To Look At Myself Without Having To Buff The Bishop, You Know?

I Stand Stark Naked In Front Of The Mirror And Gaze Directly Into My Own Eyes. I Utter 'good Morning, Handsome' And My Lips Quiver As I Stare At Myown Body. I Don't Break Eye Contact Until I Blow My Load. Not Once Do I Actually Touch Myself.