park music

“You’ve got a job to do, you fucking do it.
Don’t give me this shit: too fat, too old, too sick. You get it done, do you hear me? Do you understand? No one’s going to do it for you.
You have a problem, you fix it. Find a way, I don’t care how. If it’s too hard why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

The internet is a great dead thing which grows like grey spores on now-pungent flesh. It eats you, it rips and tears, and if you’re not careful it’ll swallow you whole.
But it’s the 21st century, right? You comprimise. You make it work.

And if you’re afraid to burn things, if you’re too chickenshit to start over again — I don’t know what you’re going to do with you.

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