God told me to wear this douchebag shirt too.

For the fake tree.

Silver trumpets?

I want to hear the Freudian interpretation of this dream.

Haw haw, those goofy Zeta Reticulans always dope you up with ketamine before they abduct your ass for probing. Ask him about The Probe.

Be sure to pick up 'Free Bread, Fireballs and Dopplegangers', my new autobiography in book stores everywhere.

Trumpets blasting in my ears while I'm trying to sleep, fucking fireballs flying into my meetings, multiple me's being created without my knowledge, and the pleasant experience of driving through the night so that I can sit in some hotel conference room all day. Are these supposed to be selling points?

Trumpets blasting in my ears while I'm trying to sleep, fucking fireballs flying into my meetings, multiple me's being created without my knowledge, and the pleasant experience of driving through the night so that I can sit in some hotel conference room all day. Are these supposed to be selling points?

Season of soaking?

Then the angels took me out for tacos. And then the angels introduced me to Keanu Reeves, Keanu had the fish tacos and I had the pork tacos, but the angels wouldn't eat those.

I got up to make some toast and Ovaltine, and came back to this guy STILL yammering.

What's that they say about liars filling in too many details?

Is this guy Canadian, or is that just something I assume about all loathsome people?

I have entertained the idea of just saying 'fuck it' and joining one of these evangelical movements just to make crazy stories up and have people believe me and give me money. Then I decide that I'm really not that big of an asshole.