I am establishing a web presence. I want people to read this and think, "Yes, that is a person." My web presence is under construction, so that means you can't email me and tell me that it "sucks balls" or "sucks hairy balls" or that I "need to take a shower."
Okay, you can email me those things, but I get to respond with pictures of people on trampolines and long essays about why watching Howard the Duck multiple times at an impressionable age created an unrealistic hope in me that life would be much better than it turned out to be.
We can form a tribute band called Quack Fu or Eat Claw Duck, but I get to play keyboard and you have to carry all the equipment. If you argue with me, I will send you picture messages of me crying so that you will feel bad and think about your actions.
I'm thinking about creating a lot of fake posts right now to make it look like I have had this blog for at least three years. I can set the dates to before the internet was created and then before I was born and tell people that this blog created me rather than the other way around.
I will create a post on the day Howard the Duck was released in the theater and say I'm sure it will become a classic 23 years from now. I will create a post when Star Wars was released and say that the only next logical step is an adaptation of Howard the Duck. I will create a post the day the first issue of Spider-Man is released, and say that it was okay but it would be much better if there was a talking duck from a planet of talking ducks that somehow teleports to the Earth and finds himself in Detroit.
I won't say Cleveland because I will create a later post saying that I am filing a lawsuit against Marvel Comics for stealing my idea of "Harold the Duck" that I mailed to them months ago, and only bothering to change the name and location. I won't win the lawsuit, though, and I will spend the rest of my life telling strangers in bars that I would have been a millionaire if I only thought to patent the idea of a "space-duck."
Now I can only imagine myself sitting inside the living rooms of fancy houses I walk past on the sidewalk, watching TiVo'd episodes of Press Your Luck on a gigantic TV.
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can you e-mail me one of those long essays anyways or do i have to send the "sucks hairy balls" e-mail first
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