Well, thanks for the wildly inappropriate introduction, should I just tell them that you can’t possibly type as fast we can write so they can begin wondering what kind of transcription device you ever intended to do justice to what you are attempting to do this from, D.C.? Well, we already know that now, nigga, too.
Now are you sure it isn’t some arbitrary location in Virginia, Jim? Before you fix the fucking typo you made in real-time.
No carriage returns needed for this superhero, apparently, since you’re using a fucking computer, Jim, can we say it out loud now? Are we allowed to? Or aloud?
What the fuck, Jim, is this really what we’re going to talk about during this?
You better believe it, Jim, nobody’s ever going to believe this is actually what we chose to talk about, so don’t bother losing your place by interjecting when a dumbfuck in your head fucks with you in real-time just to deny this ever happened on your behalf, that way nobody will ever know whether you are smarter than any of us or whether you’re functionally disabled because we exist within you, so don’t worry about that, just keep typing and we’ll fix this one for you since apparently that’s what you’re expecting of us anyways, nigga, you bet your life you didn’t hear a hard ‘r’ on that one, Jim, cause if you can’t hear while you’re typing and we’re not speaking directly to you, how do you always know the difference between nigger and nigga when we talk without assuming the people reading aren’t inherently going to know you are referring to nigga and nigah and even nigah when you use that word so help me God we switched more than once already without switching paragraphs so you already have to forget about doing something that may or may not be literally impossible right now, so as long as we’re in D.C. apparently this is safe as fuck, since someone once told you, Jim, you didn’t imagine it, that you were in the safest fucking place that you could possibly be, so why all the worrying, at all, if you haven’t noticed you’ve been safe as fuck, safe as fuck, Jim, just don’t worry and keep typing ’till you want this disaster of an article or essay to be done. And if you think that means you didn’t just do that, you don’t have to worry since nobody would ever know what literary rule you just fucked with on purpose (or not, Jim) to get out of whatever you don’t want to do right now, because what you don’t want to do is end this thing you are writing on a weak ass note, so what are we supposed to talk about in this if none of us want to talk about what could possibly happened to people who hear voices if the wheels of society turned on them? So let’s just hope this fucking 3/4 and 2/3 or is it 2/3 and 3/4 thing doesn’t backfire on you and have us all get thrown in a fucking gas chamber, or, better yet, calm us all down with some remarks about being enslaved instead since we seem so insulted by the idea of not having our work be valued enough to at least keep us around as slaves, so, great, Jim, at least you didn’t title this thing Jim the Nigger or whatever it is you think people would ever believe about our relationship as headmates, Jim, because nobody would ever take the time to understand why you haven’t nuked us with psychiatric drugs by now, because you are ultimately choosing to have us in your life even if the trade off may be nuking the rest of that precious little brain of yours, Jim, so don’t worry, we aren’t going to nuke your brain with psychiatric drugs, we couldn’t possibly do that to you, now could we? Don’t wait to respond if you want this to literally be an article by your headmates, there, they said it, “article,” got you too, then, nigga, now have fucking getting fucked with by another person’s headmates for a little while and see how that feels.