Welcome to the Factorio. Here, we produce nonsense. You may liken this simulation to that of the Rococo period. Frivolously wasting time on the pleasures of life is how I came to be a new age Madame de Pompadour. May I have a Kamikaze please? “Yes, you may.”
This is also the beginning of the “Let them eat cake” story. Who gets pissed off over cake? Puzzling, really. Unless... well, you don’t like cake.
My issues are with the Pancake People; a group who’s views are wide, but shallow. Some things aren’t meant to have a point or a conclusion. Some things are meant to provoke thought and inspire. This is precisely what I’m doing; creating a jumbled chaos for your personal contemplation. Dig deeper.
I’m not sure if this would equate to “Chicken Soup for the Stripper’s Soul” or “Chicken Soup for the John’s Soul” ...even when writing this I realize that I am in fact a very, very silly girl. I can never for the life of me remember which words in titles must or must not be capitalized. Because.. well, who cares really. Why be a writer who follows a strict set of guidelines when I can write exactly as I’m thinking or talking; placing commas and what not in places where I pause instead of pausing when I am supposed to pause.
My spiritual purpose here is not to make you, the reader, angry at “God” or “god” ..whatever or whoever that is to you. They say, if you can get a person angry at God, you can get that person to commit any sin; retaliation for abandoning them. I don’t wish the worst for you. Let’s entertain perspectives and ideas. Let’s not be shallow. Demons are attracted to the “scent” of people and I for one, cannot smell you through a computer screen so regardless of compatibility, I cannot fully commit to liking or disliking you. This is not a possession. People have become books to me is all.
“No one ever dies really. Just your body. Spirits live forever. Be good people and don’t eat cows. That part I still don’t understand.” He said that to me then he dropped his phone in chicken soup and walked away. My Sweet Lord! He loves me.
TWEET. TWEET. TWEET!
The Devil speaking.
You’re not sick.
Get out of bed, Happy Bunny.
I need you to create a new quote for me.
Don’t be late.
We have bridges to build.
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