About the author

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      The author of this book is a whiny dick who cannot get their shit together and commit to their fans. The say it's writers block, I say only my father had writers block, that's why the book of Leviticus exists.
      Anyways I'm doing well in Minneapolis, in fact I'll tell a story about finding a new coat, here's a hint, I bought it at Burlington.
      I walked in, paid $250 for a nice coat, the person running the register was a demon, I killed them, end of story.
And for those of you already dialing 9-1-1 because I just confessed to a murder, remember one key bit  of  information, it's only a bit fucking important. I. AM. A. WORK. OF. FICTION. I am not real, no more real than you, or the sky. Ponder that for a minute.

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