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my father was a relentless improving belorgerie owner from Belgium with a low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 14 year old French prostitute with webbed feet. My father would womanize and drink. He would make outragious claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaize that only the genious posses and the insane lament. My childhood was typicial, summer in Rangoon, louge lessions. we would make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beat me with reeds. pretty standard