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Archive for the day “August 23, 2022”

You’re so Superior

I was reading an article about the trend of people marrying themselves.

The article detailed how the people who marry themselves, find it a truly empowering and liberating act.

It explained that even though it isn’t legal to marry yourself, people are having symbolic ceremonies with all trimmings of a traditional wedding.

You’re probably thinking marrying yourself is the act of a weird, delusional, and self-absorbed person.

You’re thinking it’s an act of desperation by person who’s had a complete break from reality.

Maybe you think it’s just a twisted and elaborate plan to get wedding cake.

Shame on you!

I’ll bet you’re one of those judgmental types.

I’ll bet you think the only difference is between marrying yourself and being completely and hopelessly alone is absolutely nothing.

You simpleton.

You’re probably one of those backwards people who also thinks it’s weird when people eat urinal cakes.

Urinal cakes are minty, crunchy, goodness; they wouldn’t put cake in the name if they weren’t delicious.

You probably think it’s abnormal for a person to keep hundreds of pet banana slugs and name them after Dickens characters.

Mr. Pumblechook is the best friend I’ve ever had; he’s plump and yellow and perfect. Banana slugs are very good listeners; they almost never interrupt.

I’ll bet you’re one of those super self-righteous people who think it’s wrong to be a cannibal.

You probably think it’s “icky” to eat another person.

You dullard.

I’m not saying that I’m a cannibal, (mostly for legal purposes) but wouldn’t it be nice to have the option.

You’re so superior: you’ve probably never spent a quiet afternoon licking toads and staring directly into the sun.

You’ve haven’t lived until you’ve spent a quiet afternoon licking toads and staring directly into the sun.

Sure, you may functional eyesight and undamaged taste buds, but at what cost.

I don’t care what you think; I am going to marry myself.

Mr. Pumblechook will be my best man and after the ceremony we’re going sit around eating urinal cakes, licking toads, and staring directly into the sun.

And you’re not invited, weirdo.

Mr. Pumblechook always gives the best advice.

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