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Pass. I can hardly even tolerate the odd still-shot of that sleazy hustler, so the idea of listening to him speak or of reading a transcript of his predictably vapid self-glorifying boilerplate, is akin to my shoving my finger down my throat to induce vomiting for no particular reason.

I wish that numbskulled twerp of a pusher would just one fine day take a long walk off a short pier, and do the human future the biggest favor of his misspent life. I used to have a lot more admiration for the human species as a whole, before some dim-witted sociopath of a hacker with a permanently stupid smirk on his face stumbled quite coincidentally into a way to get everyone on the damn planet addicted to a self-dosing espionage scam disguised as a messaging service.

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