I Quite Fancy The 1940s. I Like

Religion Is The Yeast Of Death Cakes. It Is The Most Awful Agent On A Vulnerable Mind. It's The Refuge Of Alienated And Lonely People. It's What People Had Before Television. It Yokes People Together Into An Imaginary World. It Is Just People Talking To Their Imaginary Friends, At Length. I Wouldn't Mind, But Some Of The People Are World Leaders.

Eggs! They're Not A Food, They Belong In No Group! They're Just Farts Clothed In Substance!

You’re Not An Adult At All - You're Just A Tall Child Holding A Beer, Having Conversations You Don't Understand...

You See The Button With The Guy With The Tray, And You Push It, And He Arrives With A Sandwich! And You Think: "yes! Yes! I Control Sandwich Monkey! I Live In Magic Land, Magic Land, Magic Land"

I've Got Better Things To Do Than Read Rubbish About Myself.