Last month, I was banned from Twitter for “allegedly” owning up to creating fake accounts, which I “totally” did. But this blatant, unfair act of prejudice and persecution, on par only with WW2, is actually good for me. I dare say that it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Literally. No, really, I need you all to understand just how awful my life has been until now.
When I was born, the attending doctor slapped me across the face because my screams were ruining his whiskey-buzz. When the police arrived to intervene, they immediately arrested me for public nudity. In jail, my only companion was a mass of lint that I’ve managed to sort of make look like a teddy bear. One day, it caught on fire and set the entire prison ablaze, allowing a bunch of crazed murderers to escape, one of whom later killed my lawyer. I was given 5 additional years on the spot. No one objected.
I eventually learned to read by studying the letters tattooed on the fists of inmates who would beat me up every day. Though that did have some unintended side-effects. Even today, if you threw, like, an eye chart at me, the site of the letters just coming at me would cause me to poop my pants out of reflex and curl up in the fetal position. I know because every single person that I confided in has tried this. I’m still not allowed back in that Gap store.
Somehow, things got even worse from then on. After my release, I tried to get a job but the only place that would hire me was Bank of America. They needed someone to eat all the paper-trail evidence of the numerous frauds they were committing because they felt shredders weren’t safe enough. Also, I had to routinely check my stool to look for any scraps of paper that might have survived. Then, I would have to eat them too. BoA REALLY didn’t trust shredders. Over the years, though, I made myself believe that my body somehow absorbed all the knowledge that I ate, and that it was finally time for me to make it on my own in the world of finances.
My loan application was rejected by every financial institution in the country, until I remembered the time when I bought my first sandwich after getting out of prison and accidentally dropped it inside a portable toilet. Later while eating it, I marveled at all the other stuff I found down there: wedding rings, watches, the letters I wrote my parents etc. I realized then that all this stuff could be pawned. A few months of toilet diving later, I had enough to start my own business where I would put on a blonde wig and heels and rent myself to rich CEOs as a body-double so they would have camera proof that they DIDN’T murder their mistresses. This later also gave me the idea to try and frame Robert Mueller for rape. And you saw how that went…
So, you see, getting banned from Twitter was literally the least worst thing that’s ever happened to me in my miserable life, and at this point, I’m willing to call that a win.