Sometimes, you just feel the need to say something profound, whether it’s because some weighty and/or touching occasion seems to demand it, or because you’ve just been so prattlingly infantile lately that you’re clearly overdue to let loose with a pearl or two of exalted thought.
So you think hard on it, really press your brain into hatching it, that profound thing you can share. And then.
And then those busybody better angels of your nature, which are, by comparison to other people’s better angels, really lousy angels, pipe up and say: fuck this noise! You’re not the profound type, and we all know it. So what say we just go eat a bunch of Cheetos and piss off the goofus dog by not sharing any?
Stupid angels. But they do make a pretty compelling argument there, I think.
“Who’s got a delicious Cheeto? Me! Just me! Num, num, num, num! I’ve got a delicious Cheeto!”
There you go.
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