Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

With all due respect, which is none, to the paid actors of Gary, Tina, and Jordan: I don’t have bubonic plague psoriasis or anything else that requires a spell checker and an in-network doctor to diagnose and treat. Stop shilling on YouTube.

Gary, your elbows are not sexy, Tina, you are going to die and leave your five children from six different fathers penniless. Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a whore? Or, at least figured out a way to monetize your whoring?

Those last two sentences I ended with question marks to emphasize my lack of caring. Did it work? Who cares.

Jordan, the symptoms will return and society will be unkind to you. Not because of your gross disease, which IS very gross, but because of your smug akimbo pose over a throw rug. As if you accomplished something big, when you know you didn’t. It’s not like you made the thing yourself from scratch using your recycled underwear and toilet paper.

Abandon all hope, you’se who has entered the YouTube advertising algorithm: if they continue to watch, play an unskippable ad. A pharmaceutical one, peddling drugs nobody needs. Unskippable is red squiggle underlined. Unskippable, as in lacking the ability to be skipped, is not a word, apparently.

The troglodytes were right. Bang the rocks together, but remain in the safety of the cave. If you venture out, a saber tooth tiger will eat you, and you won’t be the victim.

You tell me: how sexy is this finger? The middle one that I am holding up at you, Gary.


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