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March 6, 2003
Whatever your residual affections, your creator was, first and last, a coward. That is, anything else your creator may have been was bookended by two massive slabs of cowardice. And you would gladly slaughter your creator with your bare hands if it would somehow relieve you of the cowardly genes your creator passed along. For you are haunted by an antsy fear you're afraid you may never purge. Your every emotion is tainted with cowardice. You mistrust your every word, as they all deposit the flavor of fear across your dry tongue. You'd do anything for relief. But you don't.