Wow, that hot wind blowing out of the Bay Area from the huge void known as Chris Recouvreur’s head has suddenly stopped blowing! It’s almost like that hole that goes straight down to hell got plugged or something. No tweets. Old, inculpating tweets, deleted. The Jahar people should send me a check, so I’ll keep delivering covering fire. Recouvreur is such a coward. Methinks his little testicles have got quite small, maybe smaller than his little boy, Gabe’s.
The Egyptian Sphinx, as you know, was no one to trifle with. Likewise, moi. Hence the meow.
Like the Sphinx, I have a riddle for you. How will you know that I am done fucking with you?
And like the Sphinx, there’s a consequence for not knowing the answer.
