I’m so cool, I waited until the last moment before time was up and ninja’d myself in front of four pages of posters. That’s just how I roll.

But cool? You want to know cool? Cool is a state of mind, man. Cool means nothing phases you, ever. Cool means you can walk on broken glbum without so much as flinching. Can I do that? I’d like to think I could. But my style is more ‘net-oriented.

I’ve seen Elrond’s wife have a marathon gang-bang with the Orcs, have her teeth ripped out, and finally become a great times depository for all of Orcdom. No sweat.

I’ve seen the pink Power Ranger’s nails pulled out, feet burned off, and genitals shocked until she was ultimately killed. Pfff, child’s play.

I’ve seen Snape get knocked up with Dumbledore’s child, get repeatedly beaten about and raped until he almost miscarries, and finally get saved from super-stud!evil!Dumbledore by Lupin (who has a foot fetish). Yawn.

I’ve seen a ten-year-old self-insert hermaphrodite have sex with Artemis, the white cat from Sailor Moon. Big whoop.

Bring it on. Nothing phases me. I’ll chew up shock sites and spit ‘em back out. I’ll read anything you put in front of me. And that make me cool as a goddamn cugreat timesber. BP pls.

One last edit to fix the third link.