No, I will not give you money for your art

I'm sick of this shit. I'm sick of people begging for money to fund their "art." Oh, poor me, I'm a tortured artist. I was born to make art, so give me some money so I can make art. Fuck you. Get a fucking job, you fucking hippie. How many people get to make art full-time as a job? Not many. What can you do in the meantime? Get a fucking job and do your art when you're not at your fucking job. You know what you shouldn't do? Get all over social media begging for a fucking gofundme or some such shit so that you can put on a fucking show. Fuck you. Maybe your art sucks ass.

Look, I do have some sympathy for these people. Myself, if I could I would kick ass all day every day. It would be my full-time job. Mick Aloha, ass kicker. Kicking ass is rewarding, but it doesn't pay the bills. That's why I have a fucking job and kick ass in my free time, like after work, weekends, and sometimes while I'm at working staring at the fucking goddamn computer screen. I wish I could just focus on kicking ass. It's what I was born to do! Oh, please, send me some fucking money so I can kick ass all the time and not work. That's not sarcasm. Send me some goddamn money!

World Cup? I prefer a D Cup.

Did you like that title? You should have. I made a joke. A Mick Aloha joke. Those are the best jokes. Here's another one for you...

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Give me your money!

That one still gets to me no matter how many times I tell it. Here's another...

Knocker knocker.
Who's there?
Show me your knockers!

Let me tell you about this idea I once had. If you like it, send me a dollar, and by dollar, I mean ten dollars. Twenty. Twenty dollars.

So, my idea was you're at the pool relaxing just minding your own business when you spot a hottie. Now, the hottie is wearing a bikini and laying facedown on one of those pool chairs that lie flat. Another detail is that this hottie has undone the back of her bra...I mean bikini top...so that she can get an even tan on her back. So, my big idea was to go over and grab her ass. Now, I know what you're thinking, let me stop you there. You're thinking "That's such a great idea, why didn't I think of it?" Well, you're right, it is a great idea. You didn't think of it because I'm me and you're not and I rule and you should send me your money. See you in the next paragraph.

All right, so you grab her ass and what happens next? Well, if she's startled, she'll jump up and you'll get the show of your life. The other possibility is that she'll realize the dangers of jumping up quickly and start refastening her bra...I mean bikini top. At that point, you should run. Actually, in either case you should run. Worst case scenario is you get to grab her ass. Best case is ass grab and a show.

I've been thinking about this. Worst case is probably jail, which is a place I don't want to go to. Respect women, you bunch of filthy assholes. Forget I even told you my secret thoughts.

Let's end on a joke. My wiener.

Seth Rogen pushed me into the arms of North Korea

Dear Best Korea,

After years of disagreeing, we can finally agree on something: Seth Rogen sucks donkey big balls. Let's just say when Eeyore sees Seth Rogen rolling up the street, he fucking runs his ass off in the other direction and complains about it the whole time. "Son...of...a...bitch...makes...shit...movies. Guess I'm...going...to...off...myself. So................long." Fucking Eeyore. Anyway, yes, we both hate Seth Rogen. Congratulations, Best Korea, you're now on my level. You're on Mick Aloha's hate level. Player don't hate! (unless you're talking about Seth Rogen) More like Seth Rogaine, am I right? Shit. 

Mick Aloha reads the news, and recently he read that North Korea will go to war with the U.S. if the Seth Rogen/James Franco romantic travel comedy about assassinating your leader hits theaters. I think it's called "The Interview", which, if you ask Mick Aloha, is a pretty lame name for a movie. Should be called "Super Assassinate: Part 1." Now, I know you're frustrated, Best Korea. You might not be thinking clearly. I understand. Aloha zones out sometimes, too, and wakes up in a path of mayhem. Pay attention, now. This is important. Let me put it in all caps so you can tell I'm screaming. SETH ROGEN IS A GODDAMNED HIPPY CANADIAN. Both directors of that film are Canadian. Sure, James Franco is American, but no one likes him any more after he tried to tap that underage monkey that learned to talk and text. So, don't get all pissed off at us for something a fucking Canadian did. Blame Canada! Blame fucking Canada.

Also, I have a business proposition. Funny t-shirts. I send you funny t-shirts with crazy English written on them and you send me cold hard cash. None of that fake stuff, either! I heard you like to print your own U.S. currency. I like the way you think, but that shit don't fly with Aloha. Send me money, and I'll send you t-shirts. Oh, and if you have any hotties over there who like disposable income and putting out, let me know.

I blame Hawaii

Edward Snowden had a cushy job in Hawaii with a stripper girlfriend and decided to leak secrets about the NSA spying on everyone because...well, I'm not really sure why he did it. I guess he thought everyone should know what the government was doing. Here's what Mick Aloha thinks. Why would you give that up? He was making more money than Mick Aloha makes. That's crazy! Mick Aloha's goddamned rich. He had a stripper girlfriend. Now, Mick Aloha's had plenty of strippers...dance for him for money. So, why would he really give this all up? I blame Hawaii. He was probably banging his stripper girlfriend one night, watching the sun set over a volcano, and realized "This place is goddamned boring. I'd better leak some secrets, head my ass on over to Hong Kong, hang out in the Moscow airport for a month, and then hang out in goddamned Russia for the rest of my life. Only Hawaii could drive someone to go to Russia. Now, I'm wondering about his stripper girlfriend. I'm worried about her. Does this mean she's now single? Mick Aloha has plenty of disposable income...in ones. Got plenty of ones, girl! Come on up to Boston!

=

With all of this talk of equality, Mick Aloha's been thinking a lot lately about his favorite thing. Inequality. As in, I have more than you do. That's a goddamned fine idea, this inequality. It allows me to live the good life while you're toiling away like a goddamned drone. Speaking of drones, don't drone me, bro. When I see all of this drone business on the news, it just makes me think I need to get in on this business. I could make some goddamned drones and sell them. That's where the money is. Now, don't you do it, too. I don't need competition bringing prices down. The name I wanted...Predator...is already taken, so I might have to call mine the Carl Weathers Drone. Sombitch sucker punches you and then...goddamn it, I have a brilliant idea. Use drones to rob people. Goddamn it, that's brilliant. Gotta get me a drone. If I could get me a drone with legs I could rob houses. I could rob goddamn gay weddings. Get married all you want! Just make sure your weddings are elaborate. Speaking of sending me your money, send me your money.

I'm god-damned sick of the word avid

I'm god-damned sick of the word 'avid'. I'm sick of people saying, "I'm an avid reader." You're an avid asshole is what you are. Reading the god-and-damned funnies on the shitter every morning doesn't make you an avid reader. Read a book, you avid halfwits. Avid. That's a stupid fucking word.

Oh, and Thomas Crapper did not invent the flush toilet. He invented taking a dump in a bag, placing it on someone's stoop, setting that shit on fire, and then ringing the doorbell. Get it right. I'm an avid trivia master.

You know what software I use to edit my movies? Final Cut Pro, and I god-the-damned hate macs.

Send me some money so I can be an avid liver of the sweet life.

Apocalypse averted again

You're welcome. You're goddam welcome that there was no god damn apocalypse yesterday. That's right, you gave me money and I stopped the rapture. Well, bad news. Just got word...from Iehovah...that the apocalypse rapture ragnarok is coming at the end of summer. So, I guess that makes it the autumnal equinox, but I just like to call it pay day. You know the drill. Send me money or there'll be a rapture. I've stopped it before, I can stop it again.

Now, could you all stop sending me god damned pictures of your wieners? Mick Aloha is as straight as an arrow. Any of you ladies out there, feel free to send me pics. If you're hot, I mean. If you're a dude, I don't care how hot you are. No more pictures.

Rapture: May 31st, 2011

Goddam rapture's coming again. I think I can stop it, but I'll need at least $100,000...Australian. OK, cheap ass U.S. dollars. Send in your money and watch me kick Jesus' ass at the end of May!

Goddam rapture

Goddam rapture's coming in a few hours. Send me all of your money and I promise to stop it. If anyone holds back...

The birther issue

Everyone's talking about Donald Trump and this birther issue, and Obama has just released his full birth certificate. I'm not convinced, though. Why hasn't he released the back of the thing? Huh? What about the back? Could be a treasure map on the back of there. Obama could be keeping all of that treasure for himself, when it should be I, Mick Aloha, who keeps it for himself. Where's the treasure, Obama? Well, I'm here to tell you the guessing is over. Through means that I cannot discuss, I've obtained the back of Obama's birth certificate. Let there be no doubt; we're in trouble.

Keep your thoughts and prayers to yourself

There's been a lot of tragedy this week, so bad that I won't even joke about trying to profit from it. With this tragedy come plenty of opportunities for people to say "My thoughts and prayers are with " to which I say "Shut the fuck up and keep your thoughts and prayers to yourself." Seriously, I'm goddam sick of this shit. I'm goddam sick of people trying to show how much they care, how much they feel the pain of those who are suffering by just fucking thinking about it. That's not actually doing anything. You're not fucking helping at all. There's no god. There are no miracles. Positive thoughts do not travel through the ether and make everything ok. There's only us, and we have to help each other out when there's trouble. Shit like what's happened this week sucks, but the response, the real response-not your fucking happy thoughts-makes me feel that maybe as a species we're not totally fucked. Sure, we do terrible things to each other, but when we're in trouble people step up. So, if you want to do something, do it, and make sure it's something I can actually see, not some fucking thought experiment. Remember in The Firm when they billed people for time they were just thinking about the case? Same goddam thing. Exactly the same.

That's right, I said it; there's no god. Life is finite. Deal with it. Do you seriously think a god would create the universe and then base acceptance into paradise on belief in that god? Makes no sense at all. It's like me taking a cat, painting it red, sticking it in my closet (next to the hooker), and then telling you I won't pay for dinner unless you believe in my cat. It's exactly goddam like that. Fuck, how can you be so goddam gullible? Thousands of years ago, people believed in gods, and looking back we think "What a bunch of stupid bastards. They believed in that shit?" What will we look like to people thousands of years from now. "Hmm, within a couple of generations they split the atom and started the information age. Oh, and they believed in invisible friends." Fucking hell. Fuck this. I need a goddam drink.

Computers have already taken over

Did you see that shit on Jeopardy? A goddam computer wiped the floor with two of the biggest nerds they've ever had on there. Scary shit. Too bad the son-of-a-bitch had to use refrigerator-sized servers to do it; I could have done the same goddam thing with just one refrigerator, full of ice cold Coca-Cola.

Everyone's pissing themselves and saying the world is ending because the computers are smarter than we are, and I say fuck it, maybe it is the end of the world and maybe it's time we made out before we become enslaved by goddam robots with goddam mechanical wangs.

With the computer/robot revolution coming, what good is your money? It's probably a burden on you. Let Mick Aloha take your burdens away. Give me your money. Let's go on an escapade.

Now, I'm off to study goddam binary.

I tip my hat (for you to put money into it)

Hello there, Egypt. I hear you like freedom. Me, too. I love freedom, which to me means the freedom to do what I goddam please and get rich. TJ should have put that in the declaration. Everyone can get rich! But, if everyone's rich, who would I gloat over. Apoc, I guess. That fool would be the only poor person in a river of success and well-being. Here are some other things I love:

ladies (hot)
fries (hot)
hot, of-age girls who work at McDonald's or KFC
KFC
freedom
money
real estate
being correct
knowledge
The Spice Girls

So, Egypt, with all of this freedom, I guess you're going to need a new constitution. Mick Aloha has just the answer for you, and by has I mean 'pay me' and by answer I mean 'wiki.' That's right, by reading this answer you are obligated to pay me. If you don't have dollars, that's ok, I'll take gold, even ol' Tut's gold. I don't believe in curses. Hell, I'll take anything that's cursed or possessed from anyone. Just send it my way and I'll take it if it can be pawned or auctioned. Hell. That's a pretty good business plan. Don't steal it! Unless, that is, you want to open a franchise. UPDATE: I went ahead and got me a website started where people can send me cursed stuff and I can sell it. It's just a splash page, but soon it'll be up and I'll be raking in the jack.

Anyway, Egypt, just to be clear, by reading on you are pretty much agreeing to pay me. OK, ready for the solution to all of your problems? Wiki-tution. That's right, a goddam wiki-constitution. But wait, there's more. You could set it up so that it can only be edited by people in Egypt. Take that, America! Let the power of the crowd lay down the foundation for your free future. Oh, and if you like I can set up the wiki and host it under the Mick Aloha umbrella. Scoot over, Mike's Head Room, there's a new player in town, and this one pays in gold.

When are these goddam conservatives going to cut their own salaries?

Hooray! The goddam conservatives are in control! That means more fiscal responsibility, which means less of me taking care of poor people. I'm all for it. Mick Aloha works hard to make his money. Why should he share it? Why should lazy assholes take money from Mick Aloha, the man who made it on his goddam own?

I was thinking this new congress might, in a gesture of doing all they can, vote to cut their own salaries. Most of them are goddam rich, anyway. Richer than Mick Aloha, which pisses me off. I did some checking and found that the legislation to do just that was already put forward in this congress...by Gabby Giffords. Yeah, she was shot two days later.

Cut your goddam salaries you goddam assholes. The country's hurting and you rich pricks don't even seem to notice it. Mick Aloha doesn't notice it, either, but Mick Aloha's a self-made man. Mick Aloha rules. Mick Aloha is the greatest man on the face of the earth, including the interior face of the hollow earth. Mick Aloha is better than the mole people. The goddam mole people have probably already cut their own goddam salaries.

So, what can be done? Well, if you're richer than Mick Aloha, you should send me money. If you're poorer than Mick Aloha, then shut the hell up and work harder. Oh, and if you're a hot lady, let's make out. And someone please, please call the Onion and get me a goddam cushy job.

Area man finds wang

I guess there's a lot of money in fake news. The Onion's raking in the dough, so I thought I'd try a little something out. Consider this my audition for the Onion writing team. Onion, if you don't hire me based on this material, I'll have to start a competing fake news site and out-fake news you. Here are the latest headlines:

Area dog figures it's time to have sex again

Date with hooker going better than expected

Drunk man figures it all out

Area man joins church for the poon

Cat allergic to itself

Hippopotamus angry that no one ever uses its full name

Giraffe joins church for the poon

Trout, father of 289, still missing

Internet bored with itself

Bill Gates' belt cures malaria

Unionized moles refuse to wear helmets

Toys tired of not being taken seriously

Tax documents angry that no one ever plays with them

Area man disappointed by legitimate massage parlor

Area woman finds wang

Attention Lady Gaga: I hear you like meat

Dear Lady Gaga,

I seen that meat dress you were wearing. If you like meat so much, then how about a bone?

Fuck PETA. PETA can kiss my goddam ass. She was wearing a dress made out of beef, not panda or goddam albatross. Who's to say that meat wasn't cooked up and eaten after the VMAs? Who's to say it wasn't I, Mick Aloha, who ate it? Who's to say I didn't eat that meat and then make out with Lady Gaga? She's probably the one to say that, and that's why I'm goddam pissed.

See, I have a theory. Have you seen that goddam movie with Jodie Foster where she switches bodies with a prostitute with a heart of gold and ends up an FBI agent on an airplane where her daughter disappeared and then she ends up in some ridiculous goddam room with no escape routes? Yeah, it reminds me of that movie. That guy who likes to keep girls in wells and tuck his junk is trying to use the skin of fat-ass girls to make his own girly skin or some shit like that. I can't remember, really. I seen that back in high school, and if you'd wrecked your truck and taken as many blows to the head as I have, you wouldn't remember a goddam thing. So, I think Lady Gaga wants to be a cow. It's ok, Lady Gaga. Mick Aloha doesn't mind. Get your cow on and all that. Cow-abunga, Lady Gaga. Wanna make out?

Before you say it, shut up. I know you're wondering why I want to make out with Lady Gaga. I know she's gross. But, let me be clear; I'd make out with pretty much any girl who didn't have a mustache. Actually, one night I made out with all kinds of girls who didn't have mustaches. Best night of my life. Worst night of my life? Same night.

So, Lady Gaga, I know it's tough being a celebrity and crazy, so here's an idea; put on that meat dress (or better yet, a similar dress with fresher cuts), and then get your hottest lady friend to put on a suit of fries. Then, have your second hottest friend put on a suit of Coca-Cola. Then, all of you ladies need to get really, really drunk (at your own expense), and then give me a call and we'll see what happens. Don't worry; I can TiVo my shows. Hell, I've got my own hotel room.

OK, now on to Cher. I hear you're 64 years-old. Despite your incredible age, I have to admit I liked seeing you dressed up like in that video on the ship that I watched a few thousand times. Really, you were never that much to look at, but, well, you're doable. There, I said it. Now, I know your outfit was sexy, but do you have anything that more closely resembles a Coca-Cola? Either way, if you're looking for a man half your age, and you don't mind pretty much supporting me for the rest of my life in a good-life fashion, let me know.

5 Ways I'm Going to Profit from the Oil Spill

Everyone's crying about these oil-covered birds. Boo-goddam-hoo. I hate goddam birds. All they do is make noise and take dumps all over the place; they're like little Apocs with wings. Back where I'm from in Kentucky, we've got these goddam crows the size of two crows. I hate them. Everyday this week I seen those oil-covered birds on TV, and every goddam time I thought How can I make money off this oil spill? I have some ideas.

1. I'll get naked and pour motor oil all over my body. Four minutes later, I'll go out on the street, preferably during some busy time like "morning" or "late afternoon," and I'll sit there staring like a goddam oil-covered bird. As soon as someone comes up I'll say, "Give me some money, dude, this oil isn't going to wash itself off." Later on, I'll send a bill to BP. They'll be so busy paying out money over the next few decades they won't even notice. I'm hoping this method also helps me pick up chicks. "If you like those goddam oil-covered birds so much, then why don't you do me?"

2. Short BP stock. I don't goddam know how to goddam do that, so fuck that idea. Fuck it with motor oil.

3. Dress up like Jesus. Tell people on the street that I'm going down to the Gulf to fix the goddam devil oil spill. Collect money from people as I go. When I reach the Gulf, I'll sidestep Anderson Cooper and Bobby Jindal and walk on the goddam water. Then, when I get to the oil I'll slip. Then, I'll sue BP. I'll also turn water into gin sours.

4. Flood my apartment with oil. File a police report and tell those goddam dirty pigs that some rough looking "teenagers" did it and as they were running away they were talking about seeing the oil spill on the news. Sue BP and Mike Judge.

5. Forget the whole goddam thing, get drunk, and go to the strip club.

Don't forget to send me money. I need the good life. My fishing business is ruined.

comedy routine, hooker sensitivity, Sarah Palin

I was looking for some great content on the web the other day and came across this site. I thought, "Wow, whoever wrote this is a goddamned genius. Superb. Indeed, superb." I was about halfway through reading this great content when I realized I'm the one who wrote it. I'm so awesome I amaze myself, which is how it should be. Then I thought, "Hell, might as well give the hungry masses a new post so they'll give me some money." Then I thought, "A gin sour's sounding pretty good right about now." I got drunk and woke up in a laundromat. I don't even use the laundromat, unless I need change for the Coke machine. You know, a Coke's sounding pretty good right about now. Anyway, here's a new post. Send me money.

What have I been doing since my last post? Working on my comedy routine, that's what I've been doing. Here's the only joke I've written so far. "What do synchronized swimmers and hookers have in common? 1) They both wear too much makeup. 2) They spend a lot of time with their legs up in the air. 3) They both fuck for money." But seriously, folks. Now, I just need to write about 50 more of those, ok, more like 30 if you factor in the laughter, to get me a Comedy Central special.

Speaking of hookers, do you think they get offended when people talk about dead hookers? You know, you're at a party and you're all, "Yeah, so anyway, dude, I used my disposable income to get myself a new Ford and you should see the trunk space. Do you know how many goddamn dead...oh, uh, cats I could get in that trunk?" See, the part where you changed is where your hooker friend walked up, and although you don't care too much if you offend her or not, you'd still like to do her.

Speaking of hookers and ladies I'd like to do, how about that Sarah Palin? She's landed herself a gig over on Fox News, which just teaches you that quitting pays. Why aren't they hiring me over at Fox? They could put on 24 hours of Aloha and the ratings would go through the roof. So anyway, ol' Palin was talking to Glenn Beck and he asked her who her favorite Founding Father was and she said, "All of them." That dumb bitch uses that same goddamn answer for every question.

Interviewer: In how many buildings in Wasilla have you made sweet love to Mick Aloha?

Sarah Palin: All of them.

Interviewer: How many members of that synchronized swimming team would you like to get it on, lesbian style, with?

Sarah Palin: All of them.

Interviewer: How much money should readers be sending to Mick Aloha?

Sarah Palin: All of them.

Favorite Founding Father is a goddamn easy question. Hell, I bet even the MMD could answer that one, and he's a goddamn Canadian. Here are Mick Aloha's favorite Founding Fathers in order.

1) Benjamin Franklin
2) Ulysses S. Grant
3) Andrew Jackson
4) Alexander Hamilton
5) Abraham Lincoln (not the penny, though)

Who don't I like? Washington. Unless I'm going to the strip club.

You've heard that there are trace amounts of cocaine on each $100 bill, but what about the non-trace amounts of Aloha's fingerprint on Franklins? Aloha takes cash. Send it my way. Make me rich! If you make me rich, maybe I'll stop stressing out about getting rich and my hives will go away for good. Dehive me, fools!

On giant chickens and saving the world

I've had two great ideas recently. Actually, since I'm Mick Aloha, I've had about a million great ideas recently, but I'll share only a couple of them with you. If I shared all of them, your head would explode in a bad way.

Sometimes, I think about what I would do if I was in the Thunderdome and had to fight some fool to survive. I think, "What if I was in there with Darth Maul? What would I do?" I know what I'd do. I'd kick off the business ends of his double-bladed light saber and then put him in the figure-four. But, this isn't about that whoosy. This is about a giant chicken.

I love chicken. I mean, I love to eat chicken. Boxes are good. Buckets are better. But, what if I was in the Thunderdome and I had to fight a human-sized chicken? What would I do?

I think chickens, no matter how big they are, love chicken feed. So, I've decided to carry me around some chicken feed in my pockets wherever I go. I'll have to make room in my pockets among all of that disposable income, but I figure I can work something out. Anyway, I'll toss the chicken feed on the ground and wait for the giant chicken to peck. Then, I'll kick his legs out from under him, kick him in the beak, and then fry him up and serve him with mashed potatoes. Some KFC's sounding pretty good right about now.

My other idea is a way for you to survive and me to make money. Have you ever heard of the Plutonian Super Measles? Well, you should have. It's the most deadly...well, I was going to say virus, but it's not really a virus since it's alien. Pretty much what happens is this thing gets into you, messes around a bit, and then your cock falls off. That's right. The Plutonian Super Measles is a cock-killer, just like Drew Barrymore. Zing!

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Mick Aloha, I have all of this extra cash and I don't want to get the Plutonian Super Measles because I like my cock right where it is. What can I do?" I'm glad you asked. Well, you're in luck, as I, Mick Aloha, have developed a cure for the Plutonian Cock-killing Super Measles. For three easy payments of just $29.99 you can have this cure. Now, when it arrives and it looks like a half-eaten Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, don't worry. It's a medical disguise to trick the Plutonian Cock-killing Super Measles. Just eat what's left of it and your cock will stay right where it is, unless you're watching porn, in which case it might move a bit. I'm not responsible for that.

But wait! There's more! If you send me three easy payments of $29.99 in the next five minutes, you also get, absolutely free, a cock sticker that reads "Mick Aloha saved my cock and all I got was this lousy sticker." What a deal! That sticker's made in Germany, and you know those god damn krauts make good shit. So come on, don't delay, send me money and save your cock.

If you're a lady, I'm sorry, I can't help you. The effects of the Plutonian Cock-killing Super Measles on women are unknown. If you send me your picture, preferably in a bikini or naked, I'll get right to work on it, though.

Joe the Plumber sucks

Everyone's talking about Joe the Plumber, but they should be talking about Mick the I.T. Guy. I have needs, too. Why is there so much attention on some rich plumber who already has the good life? Give me the good life, then talk about taxes. What about Mike the Fisherman? How about Apoc the Slacker? What about Slingblade the Blade Slinger? Has anyone considered HHH the Video Game Sales Representative, Student, and Pornographer? Does anyone care about the MMD, the Bollywood Star? How about the Evil King Macrocranios the Evil King? Give us some attention, fools.

Lots of people are talking about the economy, but what they should be talking about is my disposable income. That's what runs the economy. Warren Buffett+Bill Gates=chicken feed. Mick Aloha=important. Instead of following Wall Street, they should be following Mick Street. Did Aloha go to KFC today? Yes. Did he get himself a bucket and mashed potatoes? Correct. Okay then, the market's going up! Buy, buy, buy!

Speaking of donating to Mick Aloha to give me the good life, I know times are hard, but I don't care. Send me money, fools. It's the only way to save yourselves (and me).