Well, I don’t *think* that it’s the swine flu.

Little bit of a sore throat, maybe a fever, a littl… wait.  None of you care, and none of you should care.  There’s nothing interesting about me being sick.

Fine.  Marge Simpson’s going to be on the cover of Playboy.  Yeah, that’s right: Hugh Hefner’s so desperate for ideas at this point that he’s mining the depths of Internet pr0n.  And there are depths there, by God.

You can go bleach out your brain now.


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