Oh, hello. I didn't see you, for you are not anywhere near me. I just wanted to talk to you about certain things regarding insurance policies. But then I realized why the crap would I want to be talking about insurance policies. So I'm going to talk about income taxes instead. There isn't anyone that doesn't like income taxes. Everyone loves it. Even the people at the Cheesecake Factory. I mean, not that people from the Cheesecake Factory are different from anyone else, but they sure do smell weird. Like, wooden fruit loops or something. What if you invested so much that your own feet decided that they no longer want to be a part of your risky endeavors, so they just left? What would happen? Would you be sad?
I feel obligated by the state of California to mention the local 3000 quartic inches of grapefruit skins that I found in Nevada. Wondering why I'm obligated by California? Me too. I mean, no one likes California. I've never been to California, and I've never been obligated by a state before. I like lettuce though. Maybe that's what they were talking about when they sent me that salad bar in a box. I don't tend to worry about things though. Plaid suits are extremely classy. Too classy for hotels.
What if there were only four different type of cake instead of like sixteen hundred? Would there be like, ten world wars instead of two? What if you used your hips as legs instead of your legs as legs? Would there be no world wars instead of two? Because like, it would be hard to shoot people when your just like, face down...on the ground. Because hip legs. Hip-leg Syndrome. I will invent this. Tasty Mold Industries.
-Griffin
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