PREFACE TO PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT: To
all True Friends of The Kyle, and True-Friends-In-The-Making, the following Public
Service Announcement is *not* directed at you. *YOU* are
cherished and exalted companions to whom I owe all my Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy
Yesness, and your friendship is by far the greatest gift I will ever receive.
To you, I am eternally grateful.
What follows is directed at those False who have proven themselves to be decidedly *NOT* Friends of The Kyle.
THE FOLLOWING IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU BY CHESHIRE INDUSTRIES, A PSYCHEDELIC SUPERNOVA LIGHTING UP A BORING GRAY WORLD.
Hi There! I am The Kyle, founder and Commander-In-Chief of Cheshire Industries, and it has been my undiluted pleasure to know those of you who have written to me *and* have responded so positively to this Blog. Unfortunately, it has become necessary I address an issue that plagues me by bringing to your attention the existence of a particularly disgusting strain of duplicitous and fallacious bacterium that continues to persist in its pathological quest to colonize its collective self in my perpetually super-cool-awesome slice of Reality. Although we here at Cheshire Industries refuse to grace any of the individual paramecium that make up this fecund collective, we have named this infectious wad of rectal phlegm the bilirubin bacterium ( Those of you familiar with Thomas Harris will get the reference; those who are not should start reading!). It is important that you be made aware of this nasty secretion of a leprous codpiece so that it can be isolated, alienated, and (most importantly) obliterated.
Typically, this unsightly fungal growth presents itself as a would-be Pen-Pal responding with fervent interest to either my Blog, exclaiming "Let's be friends!". Said fungus then spends just enough time and puts forth just enough effort to attach itself to me so as to satisfy its selfish momentary infatuation before it goes chasing after what bouncing, shiny red ball that next catches its eye, like a germy, attention-deficient jackdaw; all its promises of friendship and loyalty forgotten, no more substantial than the flatulence they use to speak them.
Even worse than these are the especially heinous pathogens that present as the lesser form of bilirubin bacterium, but possessed of a more parasitic bent. These work harder to "prove" their sincerity, but only so that they can extract whatever juicy tidbits of information they can about my sordid past in order to post my letters on any of the so-called "murderabilia" websites that infest the darker corners of the Internet. These degenerate secretions of tumorous fecal matter want nothing more than to capitalize on the Tragedies of my past, and the miseries of those involved, who have never done anything to deserve these parasites' predations.
If you are among the infectious wastes of aberrant DNA byproduct that bears any resemblance to what I have just described here, if you believe it is acceptable to offer the promise of friendship you have no intention of keeping, or to traffic in the unsanctioned sale of personal correspondence in order to cash in on someone elses troubled past, or to otherwise stroke your pus-bloated ego by cultivating forlorn hope in those with little enough to hope for in the first place, you are each and everyone of you hereby invited to take an immediate, energetic, and enthusiastically exuberant flying frak at a rolling donut--preferably as it rolls into rush hour traffic.
Should you lack a donut and/or convenient rush hour traffic, you may instead feel perfectly free to either stick you genitals into the nearest meat grinder, or pick a fight with a tempermental wolverine by attempting to forcibly circumcise it, whichever suits your fancy. In either event, you petty, malicious shit-stain malignancies, quit infecting my Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Reality with your stench.
The preceding message has been a Public Service Announcement brought to you by Cheshire Industries, cultivators of overly elaborate ways of dropping scathing F-bombs on particularly disgusting strains of duplicitous and fallacious bacterium since 1983; and is sponsored by the Grind-Master 6000 line of industrial-grade meat grinders; your local donut shop; and the Society of Tempermental Wolverines. Thank you.
I *am* The Kyle and I approved this message!
NOTE: CHESHIRE INDUSTRIES DOES *NOT* ENDORSE THE SALE OF ANY CORRESPONDENCE WRITTEN BY KYLE HULBERT. ANY LETTERS OR OTHER SO-CALLED "MERCHANDISE" IS ADVERTISED WITH NEITHER MY KNOWLEDGE NOR MY PERMISSION. WE WOULD APPRECIATE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING ANYTHING OF THIS NATURE YOU MAY FIND. DO NOT DISGRACE THE DEAD BY PARTICIPATING IN THIS KIND OF ABHORRENT PARASITISM. THANK YOU
What follows is directed at those False who have proven themselves to be decidedly *NOT* Friends of The Kyle.
THE FOLLOWING IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU BY CHESHIRE INDUSTRIES, A PSYCHEDELIC SUPERNOVA LIGHTING UP A BORING GRAY WORLD.
Hi There! I am The Kyle, founder and Commander-In-Chief of Cheshire Industries, and it has been my undiluted pleasure to know those of you who have written to me *and* have responded so positively to this Blog. Unfortunately, it has become necessary I address an issue that plagues me by bringing to your attention the existence of a particularly disgusting strain of duplicitous and fallacious bacterium that continues to persist in its pathological quest to colonize its collective self in my perpetually super-cool-awesome slice of Reality. Although we here at Cheshire Industries refuse to grace any of the individual paramecium that make up this fecund collective, we have named this infectious wad of rectal phlegm the bilirubin bacterium ( Those of you familiar with Thomas Harris will get the reference; those who are not should start reading!). It is important that you be made aware of this nasty secretion of a leprous codpiece so that it can be isolated, alienated, and (most importantly) obliterated.
Typically, this unsightly fungal growth presents itself as a would-be Pen-Pal responding with fervent interest to either my Blog, exclaiming "Let's be friends!". Said fungus then spends just enough time and puts forth just enough effort to attach itself to me so as to satisfy its selfish momentary infatuation before it goes chasing after what bouncing, shiny red ball that next catches its eye, like a germy, attention-deficient jackdaw; all its promises of friendship and loyalty forgotten, no more substantial than the flatulence they use to speak them.
Even worse than these are the especially heinous pathogens that present as the lesser form of bilirubin bacterium, but possessed of a more parasitic bent. These work harder to "prove" their sincerity, but only so that they can extract whatever juicy tidbits of information they can about my sordid past in order to post my letters on any of the so-called "murderabilia" websites that infest the darker corners of the Internet. These degenerate secretions of tumorous fecal matter want nothing more than to capitalize on the Tragedies of my past, and the miseries of those involved, who have never done anything to deserve these parasites' predations.
If you are among the infectious wastes of aberrant DNA byproduct that bears any resemblance to what I have just described here, if you believe it is acceptable to offer the promise of friendship you have no intention of keeping, or to traffic in the unsanctioned sale of personal correspondence in order to cash in on someone elses troubled past, or to otherwise stroke your pus-bloated ego by cultivating forlorn hope in those with little enough to hope for in the first place, you are each and everyone of you hereby invited to take an immediate, energetic, and enthusiastically exuberant flying frak at a rolling donut--preferably as it rolls into rush hour traffic.
Should you lack a donut and/or convenient rush hour traffic, you may instead feel perfectly free to either stick you genitals into the nearest meat grinder, or pick a fight with a tempermental wolverine by attempting to forcibly circumcise it, whichever suits your fancy. In either event, you petty, malicious shit-stain malignancies, quit infecting my Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Reality with your stench.
The preceding message has been a Public Service Announcement brought to you by Cheshire Industries, cultivators of overly elaborate ways of dropping scathing F-bombs on particularly disgusting strains of duplicitous and fallacious bacterium since 1983; and is sponsored by the Grind-Master 6000 line of industrial-grade meat grinders; your local donut shop; and the Society of Tempermental Wolverines. Thank you.
I *am* The Kyle and I approved this message!
NOTE: CHESHIRE INDUSTRIES DOES *NOT* ENDORSE THE SALE OF ANY CORRESPONDENCE WRITTEN BY KYLE HULBERT. ANY LETTERS OR OTHER SO-CALLED "MERCHANDISE" IS ADVERTISED WITH NEITHER MY KNOWLEDGE NOR MY PERMISSION. WE WOULD APPRECIATE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING ANYTHING OF THIS NATURE YOU MAY FIND. DO NOT DISGRACE THE DEAD BY PARTICIPATING IN THIS KIND OF ABHORRENT PARASITISM. THANK YOU
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