Good morning fans. Props out to NASA for giving me a high-class job as a rocket scientist. It involves a 40K run to work every morning while eating my special red clam sauce straight from the can. That's cool. I can handle it.
Thanks to UnderAgeBabe for the kind email. Yes, I really am 7'11" tall. Go 'Babe!
My great-grandfather was run over by a steamroller yesterday, but he's a fighter. Like me.
I'm still having trouble with the pussies who think I shouldn't break the law or invent my life, but it's good to know that everybody I've made up agrees with me not them.
Fuck you NASA. Seems like I was expected to work. Can you believe that? There are some real cowards out there.
Check out my new link. I've stolen some porn pictures and put them on my site. You have to be under 18 or very stupid to enjoy them.
That's it for today. I'm finished with the Internet. I get nothing but hassle. More tomorrow.
That idiot Peter J Ross is harassing me again. Can you believe he doesn't like looking at pictures of middle-aged women dressed as schoolgirls? What a coward.
I've got a new top-class job rescuing the planet from all those real people who live there so my imaginary friends can take over. I'm hoping it won't be as boring as that rocket science crap was. Seems like rescuing the planet involves shining a lot of shoes, but I'm good at that, like most things.
See you later fans.
Just had an email from Amanda. What a cool chick! I wonder if she's got a webcam? I know I shouldn't be thinking of things like that just before winning a 750K bike race. But I'm a real man so I can't help it.
Just had an email from Amanda. She's a coward, spamming my message board with things that are true. Why do all the people I make up turn against me?
The saving-the-world job went tits up. But now I've got a high-powered executive job at Denny's stealing things people have written on menus and putting them on my new poetry page. I'm going to post "$1.75 + $0.65 = $2.40" to alt.arts.poetry.comments and pretend I wrote it. I wonder what all those funny symbols in it mean?
More later.
I've got a blind date with a hot babe tonight. I know she's hot cuz she's female and I made her up. I'm cooking of course. Did I tell you I'm a gourmet chef? I'm making spaghettios with clamato, then blue raspberry jello with rohypnol. And some ice-cold Bud Lite for a touch of real class.
The job at Denny's didn't work out because it's a real place. But somebody I've just invented has offered me a top-class Vice-President's job in the US Government. Seems like I'll have to watch a lot of TV and listen to bad music all the time, but I can handle that because I'm a real man.
More later fans.
Yawwwwn! Heh. I've been awake all night with my hot date. She's a professional supermodel and full-time airline executive of course. I made dinner. Did I tell you I'm a gourmet chef? It was all ready when she arrived so all she had to do was open the can and heat it up. That's women's work unless there are black people to do it.
She's in the bed behind me now. Some of the air leaked out overnight but I know how to blow her up again. I'm good at technical stuff like that.
Gotta go now. A 500K power walk, then I start my high-ranking job as Vice-President of the USA. George, that's my new boss, is a great guy who doesn't read books. A lot like me. People who read books are cowards, even people I make up.
Seeya fans.
Respect to SpamBotHoax for the cool email. SpamBotHoax is a French name, you can tell by the X on the end. Did I tell you I'm fluent in French? May wee. He says he's going to give me six million big ones if I give a dollar to each of six friends. So all I have to do is make up five friends and I'll be rich. (I already gave a dollar to Dubya, that's my new boss.) When I'm rich I'm going to have a hot date with a webcam babe that the air doesn't leak out of. And some new beanbag chairs and stuff.
I called Dubya to say I'm going to be rich so I don't need my top-class Vice-President's job any more. Than I called him again to say he's a pussy, because that's what real men use the telephone for.
Cool email from Alfred Nobel saying I may already be the winner of a valuable prize. Seems like I can choose my own out of physics, economics and a lot of other stuff I'm good at. All I have to do is click on the bit that says Get Sircam Here.
Keep those emails coming in guys!
More later.
All the people I've made up who send me emails are cowards. I've been waiting all day for the six million dollars from the French guy and the valuable prize from that pussy Alfred Nobel. Nada. Zilch. Zeee-ro. Looks like I might have to take the high-class leopard-print Trans-Am I bought back to the store. But I'm keeping the beanbags. If anybody wants them they can pry them out of my cold dead hands.
I've told the Gordons, they're the ones who keep telling me not to be a criminal, that if they don't stop telling the truth I'll kill them. Saying I'm going to kill people is one of the ways I score with the chicks I make up.
There's a big game tonight so I gotta go. San Marco Melita vs. Jacksonville Jet. I expect Jet'll win in the mud, especially if she gets Mel's top off. I'll be wearing my Jaguars shirt, the one with the cool brown stains under the arms, so I expect they'll both want to come home with me. But one at a time suits me fine. Heh. I'm good at rhymes like that.
More later fans.
It's been a busy day. Adding links to my new poetry page while I was down at the beach. And arranging my cool new beanbag furniture that I made up. No time to switch my computer on yet, I'm uploading this with my mental powers instead. Like a real man.
Props out to Paul, George and Ringo for the cool email. Seems like they heard me playing my top-quality new Gibson Fender, that's a kind of guitar, and want me to be in a band with them. I need a job after SpamBotHoax turned against me but guys, I'm not that desperate yet. I've sent them 500 emails each. Saying they're pussies.
I'm starting a great new job tomorrow. As a top-class Website Design Guru. I have to get FrontPage Express, but I know how to download hardware like that. Especially from high-quality webcam sites like my airline executive friend TeenDomGrrl's.
I've finished my new poetry page. It's a lot of poems I wrote myself by deleting "copyright Billy Jones age 9" from the bottom of them. Check them out fans.
I met my new neighbour. Wearing a tight dress. She's called Sharone. I know she spells it like that because I've been opening her mail. She accidentally sprayed mace at me but she wasn't wearing a bra so I know she wants me. Like all the babes. But wait in line till I've got time Roney! (I'm getting really good at this rhyming stuff.)
More later.
Good morning fans. I woke up with a cough. So I probably have cancer again. I'm going on a 50K run to the hospital for some tests now.
I'm back. The tests I made up were positive. I got them done quicker than usual because all the nurses like me. But I'll be better tomorrow. Being a real man.
My landlord put my rent up because he's a coward. But $50 a month for my high-class luxury penthouse duplex. Not bad.
I start my new imaginary job later today. As an astronomer. It says "Night watchman" in the job description. Which means the same thing.
Did I tell you I got a new pet? A rare and valuable kind of small dog. The guy that sold him to me for $600 says he can use a typewriter. And write poetry. His name's Archy. I'm going to the library now to find out why he has six legs.
More later....
What up? I'm back brothers. From the library. They're cowards there. Because there were no pictures of my new six-legged dog Archy in the books in the children's corner. That's the place I like to sit and read the Enquirer 'til the librarians I've made up tell me to go home. The trolls who spam my message board with things that are true have sent me 500 unsolicited emails saying Archy's a cockroach. If he was a cockroach he'd be breeding, with my other pet cockroaches. Like I do. Which proves they're all pussies.
It's my birthday soon. I'll be about 60. I don't shave my hair because I'm old and going bald. It's because I'm a real man.
Looks like there's another hurricane on the way. I hope it blows some women's skirts up so I can look. And doesn't blow my high-class $50 penthouse apartment off its wheels.
More later fans.
Check out this great link from Shannon the chimp.
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This site looks cool with NetShite 5.5. If you're using any other browser you're gay.
I stole this page from Peter J Ross which proves he's a coward. All the people in it are made up, like me.