If I may speak to you, your royal crustiness, I am the last fucker you will ever say hasn't done shit. I have posted art that destroys you in every way. The art of cigarettebeer, myself, and other SLAP posters continues to conquer your dry erase board and markers. You buy me a digital camera and I'll make my mom bring my old dry erase board back home from work and I'll show you real scribbles. Every post I make is a privilege for those self-deceiving eyes of yours.
You say you know the real voices to listen to, but you listen to words of weakness. Your crusty layer of unshowered filth has penetrated your mind.