Mr Potato God

The world is too much with me, attractive reader.  I don’t know how things are going for you, but it’s getting tougher to artfully cope with the sublunary and benighted herd.  These extroverted perverts are inescapable, and they seem to be multiplying like it’s their job.  And they can’t seem to shut up for more than 30 seconds at a time.  If they are compelled to talk all day but have nothing to say, that’s fine (I guess), but why can’t they keep the inane babble on the quiet end of things?  Why must they be so loud?  Ugh.  Perhaps we should start commune.  A monastery for sexy quiet people.
N.P.: “Swamp Thing” – The Chameleons

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