While countless devotees try to establish proof of a loving god, we have effortlessly proven just the opposite, because these posts are still here, week after week, despite fervent pleas for them to mercifully cease. Check and mate.
This week we have தஸரத, who imagines himself quite the raconteur because of the gales of laughter that accompany each of his amusing stories; the gales are all his own, but that hasn’t stopped him. தஸரத is an immigrant (yes, we know you figured that out all on your own, clever you,) entering this country with a risky border crossing in the dead of night from his native Canada, chasing the dream of ridiculously overpriced healthcare that many Canadians (like, 6) desire. He’s honed his art for many years and pretty much trashed it all, never recognizing that the phrase is a metaphor, but then again, see above – we’re not talking Mensa here. His goal is to have his own self-titled sitcom, though he doesn’t understand why he has to keep telling everyone his name is not pronounced, “Gents.” In the meantime, தஸரத is leveraging his social media presence for maximum exposure, but that metaphor thing again, resulting in seven bans so far and forcing his agent to switch to a flat fee rather than a percentage. He used to have a job splicing cables to make ends meet, but found it easier to walk dogs, because they won’t swing at anything. தஸரத reluctantly admits that his favorite setting on a sewing machine is a shell tuck stitch, knowing how gauche this is considered.
The horror and despair will return in half-a-fortnight. Well, in a fortnight too.