When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip or enjoy a Dr. Nut . . . For the edification of readers that were educated in a public school and are comfortably numb with their glaring ignorance, Dr. Nut is a beverage of such magnitude that one would suspect it was shot down from the heavens, on a arrow that was slung from a God of great kindness and concern for the lesser mortals on Earth. Notwithstanding my prefence for the simpler enjoyments of life that appease my most discriminating palate, I assure the feins and gentleman alike that I am not without an innate sense of rhythm in my upper and lower extremities. In fact, I possess a psychotic ability to juck and/or jive in a manner that brings orgasmic pleasure to all that are able to feast their eyes on my wondrous being. By casting an eye on my galactically alluring beauty, you, my friend and foe alike, have elected to intersect your path with the monkey paw of life. You see, your wish to make eyes with a being of my magnitude is both a gift and a curse. For the moment you are gifted with my unparalled genius and beauty. Alas, when you leave this Mecca of perfection, the curse will begin in earnest, for you will crave your daily fix for perfection, at first in small doses, and then progressively in full force. It will consume your entire being. You will crave my perfection such as Gollum craved The Ring. With that said, Fortuna is most assuredly spinning in your favor when you are blessed with the ability to gorge your eyes on the buffet of raw perfection known as Ignatius. Let the pot-luck of flawlessness begin! But be reminded degenerates and dolts alike, to keep your respective hands to yourself as you plunder through my words and voyeristically scurry amongst my euphoric photographs.
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