Girl. Gun. What’s missing? NOTHING you stupid asshole!
OK, you stupid fucking shitheads! I’ve had about enough of your bullshit regarding the completion of the plots threads to Gothik (a contradiction in terms, I might add, for you ignorant sons-a-bitches who can’t figure this shit out) so I’m just going to go ahead with my OTHER plan! And that’s to endlessly discuss the imaginary plot threads I’ve imagined for many, many years about … GREEN ACRES! How about THAT you fucking yak-felching, piranha-blowing, moose-fucking dumb fucking assholes?! Huh?! How do you like that shit? Well, first of all, when Lisa is making pancakes and the names of the producer, director, and writer appear burned into their surfaces (well, actually the director’s name was burned into a piece of toast) I imagined Oliver walking in wearing a lime green leisure suit and actually eating the pancakes and toast and ENJOYING THEM! What do you think about THAT shit you stupid fucking motherfucking cocksucking fucking assholes? Huh? I’m waiting you motherfuckers. Then Sam Drucker and Mr. Haney form a transvestite polka band with Doris Ziffle as lead accordionist and they do a free concert during which Eb Dawson distributes this super-strong STP that Owsley mailed to him via FedEx the day before and everybody eats eighteen hits and gets fucked up as fourteen motherfuckers and there’s this MASSIVE ORGY in which Arnold Ziffle videotapes the proceedings and blackmails the entire population of Hooterville and retires to a condo in Uzbekistan. That’s what you fucking assholes get for pestering the living shit out of me about continuing the plot-line of Gothik. And you ain’t heard NUTHIN’ yet you stupid fucking shitheads who put burning tar on each other assholes and smoke Vienna sausage on the flames and feed them to each other while buttfucking a bucket of slugs in front of the ENTIRE FUCKING SUNDAY SCHOOL!