Welcome to the Machine

Welcome my friends...welcome...to...THE MACHINE! Query 1: you thought you could escape? Query 2: YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD ESCAPE?!? You foolish...well, fool! Listen to (read) the words that are emanating from my digits: YOU WILL NEVER ESCAPE MY FURY!!!! What's that? You have some questions for me? Well, normally I don't take questio...okay, okay, just stop yelling. Holy shit, alright alright! Speak your mind. What's your question? What the hell am I talking about with fury and what not? Fury needs no definition. In fact, to attempt to define all that is fury--in particular MY fury--would inherently fall short of even beginning to describe all that comprises the fury. Not good enough? Well, you know, I don't normally have answers for this shit all the time. Okay? It's not like I sit on the shitter writing down definitions for all the shit I say. I don't care that you are not impressed. I can fuckin' kick your ass in video games! No, not Halo--I suck at that. No, not pac-man, I'm shitty there too. Listen--shut the fuck up. Hear me now: my fury is that of a machine. How so? I'm so glad you asked. Here's how: like a machine, my fury is automatic and NON-STOP! Try and escape and you will be pulled back in. THAT, my mortal enemy, is why there is no escaping my fury. Okay--your question is "why am I supposed to be intimidated?" I'm going to answer that with a question: do you fear the primal scream of the sasquatch? Do you cringe at the hooded stalk of the King Cobra? Do you recoil at the sight of the Serengeti lion stalking you as though you were an injured infant wildabeast? The answer is YES! And the connection is that me, AND MY FURY, are ALL OF THESE THINGS--but way way way way more. I know...it's FUCKING crazy. It really is. This one time, I simultaneously ejaculated, shat myself, and urinated when the true nature of my fury cascaded through my cerebral cortex. Yes, that does bring up an interesting point: NOT EVEN I CAN ESCAPE MY FURY! Welcome to my world--WELCOME TO THE MACHINE!

The Big Cat

The big cat. That's right. The big cat, the large feline, the huge pussy! Hold on. That last one doesn't convey the message I'm looking for here. You see, by calling myself "the big cat" I'm saying I'm the top of the heap--the alpha. And I'm just not seeing it with "huge pussy." Yes, I know that people call cats "pussycats," but I don't give a shit. I am THE big fucking cat and I don't want people to think of me as the big pussy. Well fuck you then. You're out of the squad! What squad?!? Fuck you! That's what squad! Seriously, remember the squad we started a couple years back? "The Bod Squad." That's right. I know we haven't even mentioned it in like, 15 years. I know, dude. Yes, I know we got our asses kicked when some other dudes found out about it in middle school. Shut up. I'm kicking you off the squad and there's really nothing you can do about it. No, you can't just start up a second "bod squad." You just told me you thought it was gay anyways. Then why the fuck would you just start up another bod squad? Why wouldn't you start up a new club with a sweet name, like "the sleeper cell." That's bad ass. But you can't use that name, dick. I really don't care that I'm the only one left in the bod squad and that a single individual cannot constitute a "squad." Well wait. Are you sure about that? I'm not sure I believe you. You have an interest in getting back into the squad, so you might be justblowin' smoke up my ass. But maybe not. How do I get into "Bod Squad II?"