Mostly boring day for friend Behr (always your friend even Don Hyman always and forever my beloved) except for the bog where no bog should be, on the road out of Augsburg somewhere past Munich. It smelled bad too, like the toxic waste dump managers I held seminars for where I taught they how to work their way around oppressive government (bad) agencies like OSHA and the EPA. Nasty, tricksy government (terrible) agencies getting all up in your face (internet kiddie slang term) when you are trying to make a profit. Making profit makes better people of us all. Failing to do so results in death. That is the natural order. Adhere to it. Adhere to it RIGHT NOW or they WILL come for you I swear to God. Get the fuck in your seat and put your pedal to the grindstone. The natural order is coming back and it is going to fuck you right in the ass. You betcha.

So, the bog stunk and I don't know what it was doing there but then the little Dutch boy started throwing up after falling in the bog and I don't like that kind of stuff. Throwing up smacks of weakness unless you have been drinking alcohol. This smacks of pussification and cuckolding for sure. Get your manhood back people. Beat down the uprising lower classes NOW or they will come for you.

That was all that happened other than I caught a glimpse of the Fuhrer's eye up in the sky looking down at me lovingly. I understand now what they were saying. The Fuhrer needs me to gain form in this world and lead his friends in the coming freedom for all the world. I hope he still likes me. Only met him once after my adoptive father (who I thought was my real father when I thought my name was Berhardt Goats and not Itzak Berky which is what they now tell me it is so I will accept that at face value as should you) took me to a luncheon with the Fuhrer and representatives from mothers against drunk driving. Face value is where the truth lies and also in the pocketbook. What's in your wallet? I carry enough walking around money to buy your wife a diamond ring bigger than your cock.

My friends.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.