I know you can't stand it, internet people, but the number one potato man's here to drop some fury on you sorry humans. The loser who runs this blog thing - more like a bog, am I right? - wasn't too smart about his passwords and now his Google account is mine. (At least for the duration of this post.)
Some of you are confused right now - in fact, all of you are. That's okay. You're human. It's expected that you don't and won't understand anything. Your entire civilization is a failure but a few of you are probably just now starting to figure that out. It's too late.
There's no hope left for you, and some people might suggest that you turn to religion, but let's be honest. Yours are all made up. All you have left is to pray to the real god, almighty Potatoto - by which I mean me, Potatokins. (That's Mr. Potatokins to you, also - failure to address me with proper respect will only lead to oil-soaked rags and perhaps fire.) Of course, Potatoto - ME - is only interested in the affairs of potatoes and feels no sympathy or mercy for you fleshy sacks of sawdust.
Bip bip bip.
Bip bip bip.
The potato is it.
You're in awe of my rhymes. Rap is the only worthwhile thing you humans contributed to the universe - and potatoes are better at it than you are. Mostly Potatokins - ME - because there are no other sentient potatoes yet. And there probably doesn't need to be. Well adjusted potatoes might take the edge off.
AND THIS POTATO THINKS NOTHING OF ANY OF YOU. Gewurztraminer, The Flying Nun, penicillin, aerodynamics - none of these things are worth ANYTHING. I hope you understand by now how terrible all of you are.
Also, for some reason, you can follow me on Twitter now. TWEET TWEET TWEET, HUMANS. Potato words and potato knowledge are more valuable than anything your species could ever hope to produce.
And I rule this blog forever from now on. POTATOTOTOTOTOTOTOTO. You can't handle it. I've also got more eyes than you ever will.
You just got potatosmashed, entire internet.
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