The Quakers told me so it MUST be true...

My blog postings have become more and more bland.

No, no--it's true. Don't argue. You're not arguing? You agree with this, you say? Well aren't you a shithole...

A friend of mine recommended medication to help me relax and concentrate. Medication? For what? He said I could expand my mind and I should just learn a little bit more about it before I say it's a bunch of crap. I think I know what kind of "hippy medication" he's talking about, and I'm just not into it. Eh, it's a bunch of crap.

Medication? Maybe it was meditation. I wasn't really listening. Either way, let's get focused, people. Meditation's a bunch of crap.

The problem is not me. The problem is you. Yes, you, with your high expectations. You expect me to please you. You expect me to make you laugh. You expect to be entertained like I'm some fuckin' clown here to amuse you.

It's True...
Island Fever is an actual thing. People go crazy from it. I thought I was, but realized I was plain wrong. Me and the Quaker family living in my living room. No, they weren't here before, but now they are and they're just another thing I have to live with. They came because of the oatmeal. Anyway, they told me I was wrong; I'm not cracking up, it's something else.

They said that Island Fever is an illusion--something "of the devil." Of course, the Quaker family is pretty strict. They don't let me stay up past ten at night. And of course, they make me eat my oatmeal. On the plus side, the womenfolk are finally cleaning my apartment. That's good, though it is quite cramped. They set up a butter churn in the middle of the carpet. I tried buying a tub of store-bought butter from Safeway, but they insisted the fresh stuff is better.