The time has come. We here at The Correctness have made the bold choice of refreshing the site. Why, you ask? Because it is supposed to distract from the lack of content we’ve been producing lately. Don’t worry, your Christmas gift this year is we are readying the SuperLady Smackdown, but first, an explanation about our absence:
Honestly, we are all very busy making our own things. TBinns is all “I’m a Comedian with a baby”, and Admin_Rock is all “I’m a Lego dude with two kids”, and I’m all “I have IBS”, so, yeah, we’re all really busy. Especially me. I’m swamped. Pooping.
I don’t know if I’ve been explicit enough about how busy pooping I am. I spend 80% of my waking hours pooping. Oh, sure, the other dudes have dealt with baby poops, but they haven’t seen anything. I man poop. I poop gale force.
Astronomers now believe that, billions of years ago, a massive stellar collision split the moon out of the still-cooling ball of rock that was the early earth. My poops make that event look like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn, and the yarn is actually pixie dust and fairies.
My poops can displace the entire volume of water in a both a low flow, and REGULAR flow toilet. That’s 30 Litres of poop. For our American readers, that’s approximately 20,000 leagues. Speaking of underwater horrors, my poops have blasted a hole directly to the sunken city of R’Lyeh, where the stark, existential evil of my poop has unleashed Cthulhu, only he smells like a lactose intolerant skunk farted a rainbow of rejected Fruit Loops flavours, like “hate liquorice” and “Grendel”.
My poops make 50 Shades of Grey look like a collection of sonnets to recite whilst you lose your virginity on a field of silk hammocks and swiffer dusters.
Anyway, we’re all very busy, and since I haven’t done any shameless self promotion in, like, a zillion years, you can go over to goddamn robmitchelson.com and see what I’ve been up to, and you can buy tickets to “A Chrismoose Carol” at the Loose Moose Theatre Company where I’m goddamn hilarious, you pricks.
