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(1.) In no event shall I, Snarp Farkle, be liable for any direct, indirect, far-reaching, major, minor, special, dim-witted, disciplinary, come down like a ton of bricks on, or other asinine damages whatsoever (including, without limitation), damages for loss of earnings, disruption of sleep, loss of appetite, voices in your head, claims of third parties damages as a result of cerebral grey matter injury or infestation to any human, animal or alien beings, or any other loss or damage whether arising out of or in connection with reading my articles and the probability of any intended or unintended oddly hideous or tormented thought patterns that may or may not be formed with, or without said readers knowledge or consent!
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(2.) If all has gone well so far, your ears should not have melted or your hair fallen out! In the event that your ears did melt and/or your hair did fall out, please refer to step (1.) above!
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(3.) In order to continue reading you must verify that you have indeed read and agree to, Step (1.) & (2.) above by reading aloud the following sentence;
“Give It To Me!”
Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way lets continue… shall we?
I’ve come under attack, recently, by some Holidacian Inflatable Yard Crap Junkies, whining about how I mention in my articles about my wishes to Heliumize their $50 inflatable Holidacian yard crap and send them into outer space so my relatives and friends on Pluto can have some much needed target practice!
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One such Holidacian Inflatable Yard Crap Junkie went as far as trying to appeal to my soft side, by whining about how the children love their Holidacian Inflatable Yard Crap and hug the inflatable Santa when they first bring him out! Then whining some more about how I should visualize the devastated children’s faces, with tears streaming down their cheeks, sobbing and crying as their lovable inflatable Santa went floating off into space!
Aww… snif-snif maybe I should cry! Oh Boo-Friggen-Hoo-Hoo!
No… no I think that’s a really sick and twisted thing for a kid to do because they probably got the idea watching YOU, Mr. Inflatable Yard Crap Junkie, hugging YOUR favorite gender of choice inflatable that you thought was cleverly hidden under your bed!
How about this, Mr. Inflatable Yard Crap Junkie, visualize the devastated children’s faces, with tears streaming down their cheeks, sobbing and crying along with YOU as their lovable inflatable Santa went floating off into space, holding duct taped hands with YOUR favorite gender of choice inflatable!
Hahaha!
There are warning signs all around my Deep Cavernous Mind, and if you do dare to enter ‘The Caverns’, you do so at your own risk, please read Step (1.) again!
I’ve been accused of being hateful and mean because of my loathing of Holidacian Inflatable Yard Crap, all I can say is…
Thank you… thank you for noticing!
~Snarp
www.snarpfarkle.com