I wish I could stand indifferent to your supposed perpetual significance, but if I were to align your intricacies they’d round up close to none. I find your sense of humor stifling, your brevity just trifling, and if I so have the right to say I think your tragedy has been sung. When in asking for a thought, I find your ambivalent agony is just wrought; you play such a fine game of modesty that the fact you are indeed stupid you actually forgot. In being so damn clever, you once again spelt whether as the weather, and if I was not so tolerant of your shortcomings I’d make humiliating you my endeavor because it’d be just so gosh darn easy. Every conversation is one-sided for by your ignorance my words are blinded, if you had the wit to name your ego I believe your choice might suit you perfectly. As apprehensible as one dimension, you fail to speak clearly your intentions. Perhaps such cockeyed interventions should be delayed until you’re capable of spitting out the reason for your delusional strut-about. And your theory on theocracy is really quite a mockery. For if you think Hell is waiting for me well, I’m sorry to inform you but turns out I arrived there late last night when I walked into your wareroom. Because once again I just can’t help myself and I simply must point out that your goods have little worth and they really do not work however I think we can come to an agreement, if you would please just stop displaying them, for this whole charade makes me feel rather ill. Yet still you remain insistent that I should play my role as an assistant, though I need not assist you at any rate for the village idiot you perform verbatim blasé.  And I’m just realizing this chardonnay upon your tie just doesn’t rightfully fit the crimes you’ve made against my fragile psyche, for as such a delicate flower how did I survive the vulgarity of your arrogant repute? I would spell out the inconsistencies for you but I feel any attempt would be but moot. Furthermore I’ll have to pass on this engagement for you see I have already made some previous arrangements, and they don’t involve your wisdom, referendums nor expertise. And go ahead and smack my ass one more time, if you think it will make it more satisfactory as you watch it leave.