Daddy’s Home

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Open the door.

You’re hurting, I know. I let you down. I said I’d be here for you. That I wasn’t like all the rest.

And then I left.

I’m not going to give you a load of bullshit about forgetting my login. I’m not going I’m not going to spin you a line about how using my douchebag webhost’s user interface is like trying to program a soviet mainframe upside-down under water. That’s all true, baby, but that shit doesn’t matter.

I’m just here to tell you, this time, it’s going to be different.

I’m differentI get it now. I know what you need. The robots.txt is important to you. You want a URL that doesn’t point to a temporary IP address. You want more than five posts. I understand. Those things matter. I don’t know where this Google place is, but if you say you need me to turn up there, then damnit baby, that’s where I’m going to be.

I’m not alone. I’ve made some new friends. No, not like those other guys, these guys are OK. Good people, you’ll like them. I’ll introduce you. They’re going to help me, keep me on the straight and narrow.

Just open the door. Let me in. You’re hurting. I get that. But those broke-dick motherfuckers at IGN can’t love you like I can.

Hush now. It’s going to be alright.

Robot Dinosaur is back.


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