Existence. The experiment in extended soul **** to excrete entertainment from innocents for the de-light of the slovenly mob of slobs with sloppy spirits.

Excalibur only exists to enforce an existential quest for the pleazure of beasts to bequest a feast of pain on naives brave and fool enough to play the game in vain: the only one who wins is the baying crowd of naying ni-twits, never those with gifts.

God only made holes so something could rip them apart in the amusement park called jo-kingly "life", a place of strife and ugliness wrapped in rainbows to hide the knife at your throat.

Happy ending? No. Not for the au-dience, ** ** **. They willingly asked for what was gross and got the lonely axe reserved for ghosts: eternity in a barren boat in a moat, oh Sam I Am!