It's me, Jeremy. Myspace.
Put a gun to my head and pain the walls with my brains.
With a gun stuck in your mouth and the barrel between your teeth, you can only speak in vowels. La petite mort.
You can swallow about a pint of blood before you're sick.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
It's only after you've lost everything, that you're free to do anything.
With enough soap, you could blow up the whole world.
We've turned into the guerrilla terrorists of the service industry.
We have to show these people freedom by enslaving them and show them courage by frightening them.
Napoleon bragged that he could train men to sacrifice their lives for a scrap of ribbon.
I am Joe's Hypothalamus.
