I am not Bob. YOu are all Bob. Perhaps as an aggregate Bob, perhaps as a divide Bob. But you are still Bob. I am not Bob. Understood? Good, good. I speak to Bob. To you. Bob is divided into many different people, all with different names, personalities, interactions . . . but you are all Bob. Spencer is bob. Elizabeth is Bob. Pierce is Bob. Jonnycakes? Yes, he is also Bob. Bob is togetherly apart, apartly together. None of you are Bob, yet all of you are Bob. Bob's core is the center of a multi-way tug-of-war on a stage of personalities . . . I speak to Bob, Bob replies, speaks amongst Bob, and I speak directly to parts of Bob. Bob is in an octagonal room. I am as well. Bob does not have the keyboard. I do.
Me: This is . . . something new . . . something old . . . but also new . . . the mentality of the old . . . in the package of the new. Is it . . . sanityun? No. Saunnity? No. Usnanity? No. It is . . . Unsanity. Let it begin.
Chill: Ummmm . . . so you're not letting me be in on this?
Me: What? Of course you're in on this. We're the ones who aren't Bob. They're all Bob.
Chill: Is Bob the final creation of unsanity?
Me: No, He is the observations of it. Pieced into many people pieced into Bob.
Tussla: Is the internet not immaterial? Alt: Touche. Tussla: Yup. Alt: You're awesome. Tussla: I know. Alt: You are my new God. HAIL TUSSLA! Tussla: Yup ^.^
"Er... We just dropped by to give Tussla his gold back..." F: *drops stinking pile of gold at Tussla's feet* "Um, sorry... Whichever Moat handed Frank the lax. I'm guessing it didn't work as intended." F: Unless of course you intended me to sh*t gold. Anon better be surprised as f*ckin' hell up there... That hurt. A lot.
Tussla: You're late. Severely. F: Well, it took a while. I spent 7 days in the bathroom. Tussla: You're lucky I'm in a good mood. F: Hehe >.> Tussla: Melt it down for me, and make it NOT STINK! F: Okay! *runs away* Me: I must be slow, but when did you get your account working, Poison?
