i had this plan that i was going to put into action, but it all fell apart.

as usual.

i was gonna pretend to be missing. no phone calls, no gigs, and definitely no fucking blogs.
after a given amount of time has passed and the masses have noticed my abscence, several rumors start spreading throughout the land.

"I heard he killed someone.", says some random fuck.

"I heard he robbed a bank and moved to costa rica", says another fucktard.

"He's got aids.", some dick says.

and then after another given amount of time, my friends and family will start pleading with the public to please contact them if they know anything about their beloved bignoggan. but in reality, it will all be a giant joke and i'll be playing tiger woods 2006 and eating corndogs like a motherfucker and i ain't got aids or nothing.

"shit man, that's brilliant", i said to myself.

and then i was gonna come out of hiding and announce that i was on a mission to find myself and i did find myself and i realized that i am the master of disaster and the king of sting come on pretty baby shake that thing.

and then i was gonna have like a bunch of fucking benefits for myself. benefits are the key. the key factor. the big key money factor.

i was gonna tell everyone the money was going to help the universe and then buy a bunch of weed and sell that shit like a muufucker.

can i get amen?

my parents wouldn't go for it, so fuck it all.

we don't need no education,

scott