It’s finally happened and its nasty. I’m becoming a writer! Its a ghastly transformation as if a Werewolf raped a word processing unit-no, an online philological database, and producing a mutant palsied offspring from a chrysalis of hideous alien tissue that needs constant medicating to prevent the thing tearing its own body apart with savage claws.
I didn’t notice at first; that cunning evil bastard Jew Gillespie got me started with his wretched trickery in convincing me to correspond with him so he could publish my deranged rantings-probably for some perverse Zionist ends that only his drug addled mind perceives.
The Dunny has suddenly grown cyber-tentacles and networked itself like a preternaturally independent nanobot throughout various mainstream social networks and I’ve [suddenly] got readers all over the world-the deluded idiots even send me fan mail.
Now I’ve launched a social networking campaign against the commercial fishing industry, corporate polluters and the middle classes as well as the long-term employed. Its insidious and it pulses and throbs with malignant chaotic intent.
I don’t sleep and when I do I wake up. Money means nothing anymore, and I have no time left to earn it-nor the inclination to. The only respite is the Sea, thank god for the Sea and the Boat.
I have an ominous feeling about this that soon I shall eclipse John Galt as a corrosive agent viciously ejaculated across the filthy corrupt and threadbare Muslin that is the tenuous fabric of Society.
Screenshot of my mutant creation attached, its growing like cancer…
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