I like to think history will view me as likened to John the Baptist, actually. Except instead of the silver platter thing, my head will end up either plastinated, or sealed in a block of acrylic. Thousands of years afterwards, my head will be rediscovered, and one of the bloodiest holy wars in history will be fought over who possesses such a relic.
You heard it here first. It is not spoken by me, but through me.
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You heard it here first. It is not spoken by me, but through me.
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