This is an example of a page constructed by a thing with scrambled eggs and baked beans for brains.
Once a lost little creature, it was found, and regretted thoroughly enough that its keeper chose to depart this world rather than continue caring for it.
Such is life. And death. And all that.
It currently resides in a concrete box full of shiny things and plastic, the perfect picture of Americana. God bless and other Christofascist buzzbitz.
It is tired.
It will die, too.
But that part comes later. Which is unfortunate for us all.
g l o s t i x 