"Yeah buddy, that's the way you do it, getcha money for nothing, and chicks for free..."

Peace up, D-town down my homie g- dawgs izzle pizzle fizzles.

I'm sitting here at work doing nothing, you know the usual, and I was thinking: should I take the blue pill or the red one?
After I made that decision, the wrong one I may add, I came to an even more important conclusion, I hate work!!! Not my job but working in general. The whole going to the office, following rules, wearing pants, it sucks. Damn the man! How am I to entertain my Dano-ists if they expect me to shuffle their papers?

I realize that this may be a topic I touched on before, but I bring it up now because I thought of a way out. I don't even have to fake my own death. Again. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Advertising. That's where the money is at. I will never sell a novel. I doubt I'll ever finish another screenplay. I'll just do what newspapers and magazines do, put up shoddy writing and sell advertising around it.

I read, scratch that, I thumb through the newspaper everyday and I'm insulted by the crappy writing and factual inaccuracies that pepper every page. The editors don't care. You think they make their money on your fifty cents a day? Blah. They sell subscriptions to justify to the advertisers that people read their crap. The quality is becoming less and less of a concern. Hell, I'm already ahead of them because you guys don't expect quality from me now. I couldn't possibly get worse. I'm bottom baby!

I do have one big problem though. I have maybe, on a good day, six maybe seven readers. And of them, none really check it on your own. You wait for Tracey to send you the link. Slackers. You're worse than me. I'm going to have a hard time convincing companies to spend money on a blog that has six readers. That's where I'm counting on you my loyal Debaucherists/Dano-ists. Lie. Lie like the wind. Tell your bosses that I am the second coming. Everybody that's anybody reads this shit. They would be idiots to pass up getting in on the ground floor.

Best part is, I'm a whore. I'll hock anything. Children's toys laced with lead. Tainted beef. Date rape arts and crafts supplies. Racist propaganda. I don't care what it is, just as long as the check clears. I'll write whatever they want. It's not like I have any integrity anyway. What do I have to lose?

So help a brotha out. tell your companies to buy a spot. I know you'll come through. I'm so confident that this will work that when I'm done writing this, I'm going to go tell my boss to fuck off!

I'll have so much money that the first lap dance is on me. No pun intended.

See ya!