Stan's muse is kind of a bitch. She's a euphonic temptronic persephonic supersonic kind of girl. You understand. Always breathin' down the man's neck, whisperin' sweet nothings that ain't a thing more than a goad. I told the man to just get a normal lady, but he had to run out and get this damn Greek wench that hardly showers and is always lettin' her bits hang out of her wrapped up bedsheets or whatever the hell it is she wears. Broad's got no class.



Euphony evidently went and bought out all of my ads to advertise for miscellaneous pants related websites as well as linking back to Not Included. I... I approve of this message. (archived for prosperity)

I always imagined the slow death of my soaking cereal flakes to be a more dramatic affair than it actually was, but this blows away whatever Crispix induced fantasies I'd had in the past. Captain, I salute you.

-Tyrus Peace