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I before E except for all those words that ignore the rule. Like science.

If there ever was a phrase to describe Mankind, I believe it would be thus:

If it itches, scratch it.

I'm not being deep here. The people who know me know I'm as deep as a puddle in the Sahara.
(Or the average Stephanie Meyer book. Ooohh burrrn. But seriously. Burn it.)
Maybe I'm being stupid here. Maybe you could look at the statement and make the point that  yes, of course people just respond to stimuli. So do plants. That's a very good point Mr. Hypothetical, now kindly fuck off.
So maybe I should retry it.

If there ever was a phrase to describe Mankind, I believe it would be thus:

If it itches, scratch it.
Then make a porno about it.

 . . . 
There really needs to be a little invention to record drunken nights out. Just something like a bracelet that detects repetitive jumps, signalling the Dancing part of the night. An accelerometer to record number of and timestamps of various fallings over. Maybe even a voice recorder that activates at the phrase:
"Hey. Heyyyyou! You know what you are?" or
"What's your name?" or
"WwWhereeer wee goingg???"
 . . . 
Do you ever feel like annoying pop songs could be greatly improved if they would just sing the lyrics you made up for them? 
Case in point:

#Do you ever feel
Like a plastic bag?
Environmentally irresponsible?
Dangerous around small children?

Do you ever feel
Feel so paper thin?
So thin that you can't think
Of a real metaphor?#

Or maybe

#I would eat a grenade for ya.
Throw mah head on a blade for ya.
Jump in under a train for ya.
You know I'd do anythin for ya.
(Cut to Meatloaf)
Buuut aahh wooon't doo thaaaaaaaat!#

 . . . Yeah, I don't get that feeling either.
 . . . 
I'm just at this moment listening to this song.
For those without functioning hands to work the mouse buttons to click on it, first of all, well done on getting to this web page. I would applaude you but on further thought, that would be kind of a dick move.
Secondly: It's "Elevator" by Flo Rida. 
With regards to the song:

What in the name of banana-flavoured monkey shit is he going on about?
I actually had to look up the lyrics.
Still no luck. Either he's mensa material and the song is actually an allegory to the ever-decreasing moral standards of inner-city society, 
Or, y'know, retard alert. The fact he can't seem to spell "Flow Rider" certainly gives this credit. 

Why the fuck would you want to call yourself "Flow Rider" anyway? That only brings disgusting ideas to mind.
 . . .  
Ugh. That's all I can think of right now.
Now go and bask in my reflected glory or something . . . 


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