Imagine a Kurt Vonnegut novel, but with no purpose and no plot. Gross just for the sake of being gross. Stupid just for the sake of being stupid. And full of juvenile sexual references just for the sake of showing off. Forget it, man.
The Drift Of Things
To yield with a grace to reason
Imagine a Kurt Vonnegut novel, but with no purpose and no plot. Gross just for the sake of being gross. Stupid just for the sake of being stupid. And full of juvenile sexual references just for the sake of showing off. Forget it, man.
