One day, I was minding my own business, procrastinating on writing as usual, when the false prophet Obsolesence crawled out of the depths of Hell and asked for my hand in carnage. I asked him for the terms and conditions, at which point he produced a stone tablet writ with the blood of deceased presidents. After coming to the conclusion that no, I did not have any tributes within immediate reach to volunteer, I accepted his offer. I soon

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