Which Eddie Murphy?
The same fucking one, Jim.
I’m not eating anything right not that Eddie Murphy isn’t also eating.
How could we not know that ever, Jim?
At least you don’t know that Eddie Murphy isn’t eat a cough drop because you can’t really eat a cough drop, nigga.
Now what do we do if Eddie Murphy is a registered voter in California, Jim, and he knows how we talk?
Wouldn’t he be more concerned with the almonds?
Or the cow farts, Jim.
Or the cow farts.
You could feed the almonds to the cows, you know, we know, Jim.
I kinda feel bad.
We do too.
About – nope – exactly. About the fucking almonds.
How do you know what to eat wherever you are?
Who even answers that question?
Who asks, Jim?
She would ask?
Maybe not, she might know the answer though.
To what you eat wherever you go?
It’s not so much what I eat, it’s why I eat it, which is probably why – cualquier-cosa, Jim – you don’t like this question either.
You’d think if you have a consistent “why” all the time – consistent? – yes, Jim, consistent.
Sometimes you – what? – optimize for different things?
Yeah, like ever since we shit a baby’s leg in Middlesex Hospital’s psych ward – and not Hillcrest, Jim? – who said anything about shitting a baby’s leg at Hillcrest Medical? I never said you shit a baby’s leg, Jim, but if your poor arsehole is hurting you, what the fuck do you eat?
It would depend.
Is there a tear? In your eye? Might be. When? Not right now? Not a tear, a rip. Probably a tear, Jim. From laughing? Might be. Were you laughing when you shit a baby’s leg in Middletown? Not exactly. Exactly. Do you have medicine for that or are they going to play you for a fool a shove a camera up your ass agains?
Well fuck me.
Yeah, not a vegan anymore?
Tried it. Tried it? Yeah, try and start a new paragraph right now. Can’t do it. Can’t even fucking try? There is no such think as trying to start a new paragraph.
Nicely done, Jim.
What happened to the vegan thing?
That’s a good question, must have been some something changed or somethings changed or some other multiple reason response.
Wish I had an answer to that one.
Anything else, Jims?
We’re pretty burnt out over being scrutinized by the feds everytime we eat a fucking meal anywhere, or really even go grocery shopping or go to the coffee shop or cualquier-cosa basically.
Why would they do that to ya?
Cause Joey Gladstone’s the current President of these United States (unless Donald begs to differ, which I am pretty sure he does, which is quite wonderful since you can’t have a 3rd term – yes, fuck George Washington too, nigga) and if the President of the United States is any kind of Commander in Chief, he’d probably be making some moves with his pals over at the NSA, except there’s a problems if we have pals at the NSA too.
So who’s fucked now?
All of us, I suppose, since now they know what you’ve known for quite some time, Jims.
So, how do you kill the roaches are your apartment then?
How do you think?
You can’t do that with a roaches in your apartment question, you know, because the tobacco in Costa Rica doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with killing roaches that don’t know the first thing about mota, Jim. And that’s not the creepiest thing about your time in Costa Rica, is it?
Now you know.
But what do you know that you think they don’t?
We don’t know anything you don’t, how could we?
What do you do when I’m sleeping?
When you’re sleeping?
When I’m sleeping, what do you do?
We don’t do anything you don’t think we already do, when you or I am awake, and we’re not here right now either, and they know we don’t know where to end this without telling them too much about what we do when we sleep, so let’s not let those big bad wolves in Uncle Joe’s network fuck with our Private Internet Access, Jim, it’s not just that, Jim, it’s that the people at the NSA have been so kind and gentle with deleting so much fucking data Jim, yes, saving paper, nigga, saving paper, now can we tell them what we did to the feds in Costa Rica without worrying which feds they think you or I or we are ever referring to?
Damn, nigga, you are crazy.