Oh hallow internet. Here we meet again. I whimpering at your lack of amusement. You apathetic and aloof as I press the keys that attempt to tickle you.
That attempt to tickle you into such a state of distraction that you let me link to something joyous. Perhaps I am redirecting emotions of angst given me from a different source.
A source whose veins flow with blood, not information.
Perhaps you do not deserve my cynicism.
But you shall get it.
My dear hallow crutch.
You are getting it.