The Giving of Lemons

I was notified of an old comment I made on Disqus, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be cool to preserve it.

---

I always knew sour dough and rabies together were trouble, but I have another quibble with that factor. It's called mass-produced multi-groan conundrum. Don't try to look it up. It's all in my head. When you suffer from this, everything looks like it's made of lemons to you. When life gives you lemons you make lemonade, huh? Well, I CAN'T DO THAT! I can't do that because it's ALL lemons to me!

How you do expect me to make lemons out of every gosh-darn hash-brown-tagged scot-free pilgrimage to the Canadian border when the fuzzy stuff is nonsense to fear's diatribe?! I don't want to drink the lemon cat, oh Lordy noooooOOOOOOO!!!! Life, give me lemons no more! The curtains are peeling, their rinds...wait...RINDS (?!) are blasphemous and counterproductive if there is smoke but no cigar. They're coming, they're coming they're coming they're coming to TAKE AWAY THE JARGON'S FREEDOM! Liberty! Liberty! Give me liberty from life's lemons or give ME dEaTh! no...no...I knew it...I KNEW IT...........The lemon WAS a CAT!!! Tissues...tissues if you have them...oh gosh...SQUEAAAAAAAAAAAAKY! Nothing...NOTHING is as bad as...gollup.
...Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wash my mouth out with some soap. ...Defibrillators don't need to come out no more.