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7-02-2007
Writing is hurting my brain. Samuel L. Jackson is treading on my subject matter. Burritos crowd each other in my gullet. It is, indeed, another day at the terrible factory.
In part of my diligent efforts to be contrarian whenever possible, I am declaring myself an enemy of the iPhone. I have reached the age, perhaps prematurely, where I willingly let culture leave me behind. In fact, perhaps I will just regress. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go listen to Sir Mix-A-Lot while doing the Running Man.
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