I think Jared from my Dixie Nutrition 2006 days was a figment of my imagination. Dost thou remember? Scary bodybuilder guy? I've concluded that my mind created him as some sort of symbol of fear of my upcoming mission to Tennessee. There are holes with the theory. Like how he was always having yelling matches with Marge's daughter Janelle. But... was it just me yelling at her? Was it my "dark self?" JARED. If that's all true, maybe I can bring him back. But there's two problems with that. #1: Jared is scary and can probably bench press your house. #2: I don't remember #2. JARED. Have you heard enough about Jared? Okay I'm done. JARED <--- been="" have="" in="" jare-ed.="" jared.="" just="" like...="" not="" one="" p="" pronounced="" syllable.="" you=""> What is life all about anyway? REALLY? What is it all about? To me, it is... bizarre. Really, it's lots of things. It is beautiful. It is ugly. To some, it's tragedy. To me, it's mostly just bizarre. That's my word to describe it. It can be bizarre in terrible ways, for sure, like, why would anybody have the desire to strap bombs to themselves and go blow up a bunch of people they don't even know. Or it can be bizarre in less terrible ways, like, for example, me having an epiphany this morning while scrubbing dishes that Jared possibly wasn't real. Or that one guy here in town who broke into a business, cleaned the building, then wrote a bunch of riddles on a white board, apparently due to suffering from some sort of weird schizophrenic delusions. Apparently, all the "less terrible" things I think of involve delusions. I don't really know where I'm going with all this, so I will just leave you with these wise words of wisdom: Never trust that which is incapable of being trusted. Robert E. Lee. Or was it John D. Lee? I forget. JOHN D. LEE, MURDERED SOME FOLKS, DIED AT THE AGE OF ONE HUNDRED AND THREE. Is that how the little song goes?
DO IT, KIM JONG-UN! SHOOT ME WITH A NUKE. DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! COME ON CHICKEN! GIVE IN TO YOUR HATRED!
That's all for now.--->