Having no applicable skills, in any possible area whatsoever, effectively makes me the master of redundancy. But that info is obsolete, like my insults dictionary, which I stole.

I'll make a book on learning how to be a complete moron someday, and I'm sure no one will buy it, because everyone will have mastered that already by the time I gather enough moronism to process it into digestible upgrade instructions for your average village cyborg-idiot.

I sometimes go to a mythical place called "workplace", where the doable is always unpassable as possible, especially when it pisses you off.

If I were offering hip replacement services I'd use Jarod Kintz as my spokesman. No one can possibly be better than him, to replace the missing spoke in your wheels.

I flow like a butter in the nailed pan I stole. I also kept the nail, to polish and use as a means of teleportation.

I like rural areas.