Mike, Mike, Mike. As I pointed out earlier, your presence here is wrong. You yourself embody wrongness. Your wrongness pervades everything you do and leaves a stench that lingers long after you leave.
You are wrong like socks with sandals. Wrong like coffee with lemonade. Wrong like butterflies and cement.
Won't you please go be wrong somewhere else? Would that be so wrong?
__________________ If you love something, set it free. Unless it's an angry tiger. |