I use Grammarly’s plagiarism check because it’s easier than lying about using Grammarly’s plagiarism check, which is what I just did.
They MADE me post that. Seriously. For $50. In gift cards.
I didn’t want to post anything. I don’t have time to blog. Nobody does. Who has time to blog?
I’ll tell you who. This guy:
Blogging is for stupid people because you don’t really get paid for it, but I got an email from a man named Nikolas Baron, the Online Partnerships Associate with Grammarly, a website that, well, I don’t know what they do. To be honest, Grammarly doesn’t seem like a website that I would use. Plus, I would never trust a man who spells Nicholas without a “c.”
That “c” is what America was founded upon.
And what is America without a “c”?
I’ll tell you what: AMERIA.
Yup, Ameria, as in Ameria, the Armenian bank.
Nice try, Nik, my Armenian terrorist friend. I’m onto you.
And what’s more, it looks like the Grammarly offices are located in San Francisco, which means the workforce is made up of white people who wear shoulder bags and take sanctioned naps at work.
Here’s Nikolas Baron, the man who will pay me for this blog post:
I’d also like to point out there’s something disgusting attached to Nikolas’ tongue. If my stereotypes about white people who live in San Francisco are correct, it’s probably sushi. Or hundred dollar bills.
I don’t know what this blog post is supposed to be about anymore and I don’t want to scroll up to figure it out, so here is another picture that pops up when you Google white people in San Francisco:
Anyway, Nikolas said he’d give me a $50 gift card to Amazon if I posted something about Grammarly, the plagiarism checker. So obviously I dusted off the old laptop and decided to make this post. It’s really good though, isn’t it?
No, you say?
Well, how about this?
On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, to- wards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five- storied house, and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady, who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his land- lady, and was afraid of meeting her.
God, I’m good at writing.
But my amazing ability with the written word isn’t what this post is supposed to be about. This post is about $50 in Amazon money. So here is what I am going to buy with that $50:
I am going to buy four copies of my book, Spare Parts and Dismemberment. That way the money will go back to me. You see, not only am I good at writing, I’m also a financial genius.
Now you should buy a copy of Spare Parts and Dismemberment, too. If you think Amazon is the worst company ever because they are destroying independent booksellers with their mega-corporation bulldozing tactics, you can buy Spare Parts and Dismemberment straight from the distributor, Small Press Distribution.
Thanks, for reading, y’all. I love you.
In case you doubted: This post – exactly 666 words. Happy Halloween!