Good morning...good day, good afternoon, good evening, good night. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever time it may be. My name is Molly Magritte.
I will start by being honest with you all--I am a time traveler. I was sent back 30 years in time so that I could find John Titor and tell him to "shut up already." Unfortunately, as you may have already figured out, something malfunctioned and, as a result, I have been stranded ten years ahead of where I truly should be.
But I'm okay with that. Luckily I was taken in by a kind, obese, balding man. I don't know his name--I never asked. I now live in his basement. I don't really have an occupation (I come from a time where these have been eradicated in North America in favor of living on-camera 24/7 as a part of a never-ending stream of reality TV shows.)
Now I spend my days surfing the internet and my nights at the local club--either singing or doing stand-up. The club owner says I'm not good enough to be paid, and the only reason he allows me to perform there is because we're sleeping together. I don't know his name either--I never asked. But it's alright. I don't need the money. Everything I need the kind, obese, balding man throws down the stairs to me.
Recently, I've decided to try my hand at the art of blogging. I feel the world could benefit from my witty ramblings. The world seems to be getting less and less artful as the years go by--by the year 2027, graffiti tags have become the epitome of expressing oneself artistically. Who needs Monet? Who needs Wilde? Who needs Shakespeare? And, while we're on the subject, who needs iambic pentameter, anyway? So, you see, I have strong feelings about this depressing decrease in art. In fact, give me any topic--I'll have an opinion about it. If you can't form an opinion of your own, feel free to borrow mine. That's what I'm here for. Also, to bitch-slap John Titor...even if that ship sailed a decade ago...
That is all. see you next time, my pretties.
-Molly Magritte
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