Writing is for girls and sissies.  Not for real men.  If real men wish to share their feelings, which isn’t very often, then usually one of two activities ensue:  fighting or sex.  Actually, usually both of those activities ensue, unless it is with another man, in which case usually it is just fighting.  Unless the real man happens to be gay.  However, if the real man is not gay, then there is a good chance that the sex isn’t so much an outpouring of his feelings but the scratching of a very itchy mosquito bite that isn’t located on the surface of his skin, but inside of his penis.

Okay, now I’m off topic. And confused.  And itchy.  Let me start again.

Real men don’t write, because real men don’t have feelings.  Not real feelings anyways, unless you call “hunger”, “tired”, or “hot”, feelings.  I certainly do.  But then again, I am a real man.

DRAGONE is a real man, in case I wasn’t clear before.  Not that he needs to repeat it often.  He just likes to repeat it often.  And being a real man, DRAGONE does not write.  He types.  Although he types in private.  This is because he is aware of how most real men type, with only their stubby index fingers, whereas he uses all of his fingers to type.

When DRAGONE was a real boy he didn’t have many friends.  He developed a hobby which he called typing.  This was done on a typewriter, not a keyboard.  He enjoyed reorganizing and recategorizing books that were packed with information, organized into many categories.  Books such as The Guinness Book of World Records.  He enjoyed this book in particular because he found human freaks of nature intriguing.

DRAGONE does not write, he types.  He does not type about feelings.  (or does he?  hmmmm … )  He no longer recategorizes strange books.  So what the hell does he type about anyways?  I’m not totally sure.  I’ll have to ask him one day.

DRAGONE out.