I spent a significant portion of yesterday railing to poor
babel about how much I hate Kurt motherfucking goddamn pissant Vonnegut and his retarded pissant bullshit advice for how to write motherfucking fiction. After running off some of my rage, I thought about it post-gym and got angry all over again.
Yes, I know, it says something about me that I get this angry about the opinions an author I don't like at all. It also says something about me that I'm so dead-certain that I'm right and Vonnegut, famous, acclaimed author read in tens of thousands of high school English classrooms is wrong, but ( just to get it off my chest )
...
In other news, I just had a lunch of soppressata, followed by white peaches with Laughing Cow cheese, followed by gnocchi in some remarkably good sauce. How are you?
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Yes, I know, it says something about me that I get this angry about the opinions an author I don't like at all. It also says something about me that I'm so dead-certain that I'm right and Vonnegut, famous, acclaimed author read in tens of thousands of high school English classrooms is wrong, but ( just to get it off my chest )
...
In other news, I just had a lunch of soppressata, followed by white peaches with Laughing Cow cheese, followed by gnocchi in some remarkably good sauce. How are you?