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Bush, like all other robots, IS evil

Dear Murray:

One of the unfortunate things about LA is that everyone’s a fucking “actor”. They walk alike… they talk alike… they’ve assimilated into a single collective genius. So, how does one find a true opinion in this condition? How do you separate the affected from the affectation? It’s become draining to hear “Bush is evil” from people who can’t tell you why or, alternatively, offer a parroted, pirated version of something they heard on NPR.

Yours truly,

clichéd and equally pretentious eastsider

It’s so fucking hard to separate the actors from the “actors”. I blame reality TV. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone say “I don’t need classes, you either got it or you don’t”. All art, people, be it writing, acting, painting, is 10% talent, and 90% hard fucking work. There are fewer and fewer genuine actors (a fine, fine art) left in this world. Give me Sean Penn, give me Edward Norton, give me Freddy Prinze, Jr.! Come on, now. He can’t be that bad on ACCIDENT! Being that bad takes the work of a true fucking GENIUS.

No matter where you are, there’s gonna be some thing. Put the same crowd in Paducah, Kentucky and they’re gonna expounding the finer points of squirrel huntin’ and they’ll trade their John Edwards bumper stickers for these.

It takes a lot of fucking effort to figure out who is who, and Murray doesn’t have the patience. Alot of people can sound really intelligent for five minutes, and you keep pressing until they go all “OH MY GOD! Still with the talky-talky! I should be in your pants by NOW! I have to go call my agent.” If someone asks you if you like sushi as one of the first questions they ask you, HEAD THE OTHER fucking way. I can think of 13765 qualities that are more important to me than a person’s taste for raw fish.

Make a list of red flag questions yourself. Now leave me the fuck alone.

Categories: Dreams and Delusions Dubya Limp Dicks

Dear Murray

Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.

He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".

His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.

A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.

It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.

He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.

Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.