No. I could probably write the headline without looking, though: "Trump Vetoes Oxygen. Earthlings Now Breathe Money". Film at 11.
The top story isn't actually about him.
That just means there was a monumental terrorist attack somewhere on the planet: "Car bomb hits Special Olympics In Antarctica. 700 killed, including one incredibly brave American retard". Film at 11.
It's a feature article about meth addiction amongst midwestern pre-teens. Pretty powerful stuff.
That just sort of stands in line with all the other bad news that the universe has to offer right now. Think I'll skip that heartwarming detail.
Why don't you just be honest and admit that all of this misery around you is actually serving your melancholic sad-sack routine. You seem to have fallen into that self-pitying rabbit hole where being a misanthrope is your way of being happy.
And your point is?
Get over yourself.
Dude, I get mad pussy when I'm depressed. Chicks eat this shit up.
They also like to laugh and have fun.
Barf. Sounds like work.
You oughta take a break from this lame act for a minute. C'mon, let's go pop some Viagra and walk around a Walmart naked. We can put party hats on our dicks and joust with security.
Gaaah, that didn't work when my snake died I don't think it's gonna do much better now.
I've lost you.
[Sigh] True. Film at eleven.
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