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The Link

A little bit about me...

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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

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I think I've partied with your Pops...

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have you ever been placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds?

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have you ever been placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds?

Thanks for dredging up that memory. :(

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I've always wanted to meet the inventor of the question mark :)

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