SATAN: You know what, Cunningham? All those excuses you got wedged between that dubious cleavage of yours: your mother, the bulimia, the herpes, the booze, the abortions, the rape, the bipolar pharmaceutical adventures, the twin suicide attempts, and the abject failures at every relationship you ever attempted - all those things do nothing to Band-Aid the simple fact that There Comes a Time When the World Stops Rewarding Potential - and what that time came for you, you threw yourself the world's biggest pity party and dedicated the rest of your short, pathetic, inconsequential life to finding fault everywhere fuckin' else but in the return gaze of your own cosmetically altered reflection. Okay?










