Pour yourself a heaping bowlful of dingleberry crunch, part of a nutritious breakfast.

The ones that care lie to protect you,
the ones that don't lie to defraud you,
the ones you support lie to control you,
the ones you oppose lie to debase you.

Life is like a box of chocolates.
It looks nice on the outside, you're filled with hope for what it may contain, and (unless you happen to be a bench sitting retard in a seersucker suite) it's ultimately a disappointment.  A fleeting masturbatory exercise.  A dose of empty calories, with no redeeming virtue beyond cheap thrills and pointless entertainment.  A mass produced consumer product, a commodity to be bought, sold, or traded for.  A profit line item, or at best an exploitable resource of limited inherent worth.

Happy fucking friday.