Followup question - all the apocalytic, bliblical tone to your vernacular (fire breathing fists, minds exploding, etc. etc. etc.) leads me to an obvious question. . .
Have you accepted Jesus Christ into your life as your personal savior?
You don’t have to come out and say it - just snort a line, twitch, blink uncontrollably, and scratch at nonexistent bugs on your arm once for no, and fifteen thousand fucking times for yes.
I like it, but I don’t think the world is ready for it. The world is full of people who live like sheep. I won’t let them try to take my wool and feed on it. I’m not a sheep, I’m a wolf from the Big Bang. I’m beyond them. The new breed. A new species. I don’t think people can process that, so they fear it. The world just isn’t ready.
Crown Prince of Irony, I will destroy you. I’m a volcano in a jet fighter and you’re a urinal cake. I could piss on you and destroy you. My piss is made of lava. I’ve been pissing fire ever since I started sleeping with the Goddesses.
You answered it right there; they’re pathetic. They don’t have my bravery, my Adonis DNA or my battle warlock power. They’re afraid of the media sheep. They’re afraid they’ll be eaten by sheep.
In this business you have to do everything with passion. With violence. Act with a violent passion. Play violently. Work violently. Love violently. Your daughter should do barely legal bondage porn.
If you borrowed my brain for five seconds, you’d be like, ‘Dude! Can’t handle it, unplug this bastard!’ It fires in a way that’s maybe not from, uh…this terrestrial realm.
'Fess up. As the Vatican Assassin you must be the Star Whacker that Randy Quaid is so afraid of. Who have you killed? What did Randy do to make your hit list?