I am about to experiment that transcendental moment in life where one selects their first sig. The magnitude of this one-in-a-lifetime-event is too much to shoulder by myself alone. The burden, the sheer pressure, the monumentally nefarious connotations implicit in a bad selection are too strenuous even to think about.
As such I must desperately ask, make that plead, for your help. I have several candidate sigs in mind and plan to juggle them according to the nature of the post. Where I need help is deciding which of these fellas will be immortalized as my first sig. Your opinions will be appreciated and valued. Whichever of these proposals gets the most votes by the end of this week or by the time this thread dies–whatever comes first–will be proudly displayed on my first post next week. Having said that, here are the proposed options:
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I came, I farted, I left (a stinking odor).
Dude, you need help. :D–Silver Fire
The light at the end of a tunnel is that of a drunk holding a candle up his ass.
A man of passion is a man of destiny.
To post or not post, thereby resides the dilemma.
I post, therefore I am.
God is a fictitious entity created by the programmers of the Matrix to keep us under control.
Nothing is absolute except our need for an absolute Being who can justify our existence. And, of course, c.
I’m back–Michael Jordan announcing his return to the NBA.
There is no spoon–extract from The Matrix
Ignorant we all are but through marvel and curiosity knowledge we shall pursue and, to the extent of our effort and passion, a tiny fraction of its vast domains we shall embrace.
What is a fart? A Magnificent gaseous ejaculation that gallantly escapes from the gravitational seduction of the oppressive anus that holds its ethereal essence captive inside its cavernous interiors. 
What is the matrix? A mind twisting, reality questioning philosophical inquiry that poignantly asks, what if there is an imperceptible mist that blinds our brain from the most horrifying of truths, the dehumanization of the human race, while rendering it an intellectually passive slave to its own monstrous creation, a Victor Frankenstein subjugated by the very spawn it created?
What is the matrix? It is the oracle that sees in the horizon the seeds of our destruction evolving into its most severe manifestations; it is the déjà vu that “reminds” us to fear the future, to be aware of its implications and, concurrently, focus our existence toward building a more amenable destiny, one which we can proudly lend to our children and expect them to be complacent about
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