Comment on EspyFur's profile
Thanks for the fav on 137 - Twins, Basil! Twins...
Upon closer inspection, it appears that these two are not, in fact, twins. That’s right, I was wrong. Honest mistake. One of them appears to be a covert polymorphous gelatine based lifeform, masquerading as a fluffy belt ornament. The humanoid form upon which the ornament rests is nothing more than a highly complex, trans-dimensional, Bluetooth enabled, physic projection. Classic contextual camouflage. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. I mean I see this sort of thing all the time. Rookie mistake. I apologise. Of course, now that I know that one of them is a fake, the next challenge is figuring out which one is the imposter… I know what you’re thinking, why not just draw blood, and to that I say, have you ever tried to draw blood from a physic projection? Of course you haven’t. That’s a ridiculous suggestion. It takes ages. 
Thanks for the fav on 136 - Medicine is just my hobby...
Okay, it’s not really a hobby. It’s more of a side gig. But once my glockenspiel career takes off, I am done with all that personally satisfying drudgery and its life changing experiences. I mean who really wants the hassle of saving lives and being a hero? Not me, that’s for sure. Give me the wide open roads, the adoring fans, questionable groupies, a soulless corporate sell out, meaningless promotional feuds and of course, the real reason for taking up an instrument, the free food. Yep. That is what I call living the dream. And I’m so close too. I just need to learn how to play, find just the right bandmates who are willing to ride my coattails to top before stabbing me in the back to support their rampant decorative soap addiction, and of course a manager so devious and underhanded that by the time my career is over I won’t have two buttons to rub together. So I’m practically there already. I figure another week and there’ll be billboards with my face on it, just you see.
Thanks for the fav on 135 - I'll have what she's having...
Unless it’s some of that new hippity dippity, 100% organic, certified chemical free, all natural stuff called…water? Is that what it’s called? Can’t stand the stuff myself. No flavour, full of who knows what. Next thing they’ll tell me it’s good for my health. Bah! Poppycock! That’s just part of the marketing scheme. Well let me tell you, I am the last person to be hornswoggled by some fancy advertising or flashy gimmick. That’s why I only ever drink CRUSHED!™ A bittersweet, infinitely satisfying beverage made from the tears of your enemies, collected by rehabilitated ex-junkie tooth fairies and then brewed for 3 non-consecutive full moons, until all the natural goodness is finally eliminated and all you’re left with is a blend of barely legal chemicals. "Get CRUSHED!™, the beverage of poor sportsmen!"