I knew it

I knew there was a reason I woke up in a pisser on a Saturday morning, besides that fucking dream about being Milou and having to find a treasure-chest in a booby trapped castle while Tintin hung around outside giving me completely useless advice. Man, I can't even giggle over writing 'booby' today. Today is the day the laughter died. What did we do that Richard Pryor had to die? Fuck, man. Fuck. This is one naughty world.