MY RABBIT FARM

PEOPLE OF THE INTERNET

I reach out to you with the hopes that this message will reach you in time to SAVE THE WHALES. AND GOTHAM. So…did you get it? You know, the message? Alright, yeah, I can wait a minute…are the whales saved yet? Is Gotham ok? Theres nothing you can do? FUCK YOU.  FUCK YOU, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DISAPOINTED THE DOLPHINS ARE. THEY LOVE WHALES, YOU SHIT HEADS.

Anyway, the real reason I started this blog at 9:56 PM (the clock in my room runs 11 minutes slow but its cool because that makes me the master of time because for everyone else it was 10:06.  Time is my eternal hoe) was because my Rabbit farm just recently got audited, as I have described, and I have sent spam emails to everyone on my mother’s reading club email list asking for various leafy green’s and a lifetime supply of potatoes, because Mama Rose, the senior rabbit at the farm, is crying because she has run out of foodthings to feed her pups, and the father, Porogus G. Hoofmister, was a rabbitizing drunkard and last Febuary chewed thorough the bottom of the barrel of wine in my basement and drowned in his own vomit.

Think of the rabbits. Donate to my non-existing paypall account.

Oh, and its 10:26 right now. The title is a lie.