At first I thought you were an alt or a witty troll of some sort, but I was only going by your user name... that was over a decade ago. I've since given up lurking, and you began writing. You've been a pretty straight shooter here, so when you wrote about some of the things that happened to you IRL, I can see why your fictional tales are so different and colorful.
Hope you're de-toxed and back home again, seriously, I didn't know what the fuck you meant until I wikied the fucker, and had to read the article... then I remembered.
Really thin paper. ghostly white-white, ink that's pitch black and won't smear, but can melt into skin and other porous materials. Pseudo-Christian, grade-school fiction, with severe, crippling overtones of immortal dread and guilt! Thanks for bringing back shitty memories about my childhood, dick, serves you right for gutter trolling indiscriminately
The artistry was really good, especially the ladies, but how could you even enjoy it, given what was said?! Used to find those things lying around all the time, just a few short blocks from where the junkies and whores dwelt... that was the 1970's, before cellphones and catalytic converters. I think the leaded gasoline fumes in cities back then, made ppl really hostile and loopy.
I don't know who or where the fuck Fred Phelps is right now, but I'd leave Chuck Chick the hell alone bro, he's gotta be pushing 80 or 90 by now. Breathe deeply and meditate on this image, just block out what you saw okay? PM me in a few days, I'm really quite busy right now
