Stephen Hawking - My Fake Diary
Friday, 1 March 2013
God I'm bored. So bored with this rotten stinking wheelchair. Can't get out and have a great time with all the other beautiful people. So bored with people coming up to me and telling me how sorry they feel for me. As if they mean it. And those sycophantic types who want me to leave substantial amounts of money to them when I go belly up. They can go drink poison for all I care. I especially hate doctors who promise me the world: like a brain transplant that would free me from my hellish existence. What?!! Oh, I gotta go. I can hear my personal waiter bringing me my daily dose of pureed vegetables and haggis.
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