Tom Cruise - My Fake Diary
Tuesday, 16 August 2005
August 13, 2005
It's shortly before midnight. I am laying in bed thinking about all the ridiculously stupid people out there. I feel for them. But what can I do? How can I help such morons?
Sometimes I get really depressed when I see them on TV, or they're gathering around me like flies at some event. I would like to shoot them. They'll never know what hit 'em.
I told them to stay away from psychiatrists and their insanity and evil drugs; I told them to go run around, get some exercise, it'll workout fine. But they're all simply too thick to understand. Only the vast wisdom that's been stuffed into me at The Church has made me the Mental Master that I am.
The rest cannot be helped. So screw 'em. They can't believe what I say. I know the Truth, but they're too moronic to see beyond my 3ft frame. But, hey, who's the man? Huh? Who's making beaucoup bucks?! You rotten bastards! Damn you all to Hell!!!!
Whew, I'm getting a little worked up here. I better get some exercise. I am Tom Goddamned Cruise, damn it! Why don't people understand that and just do what I say? Why won't John Travolta take my calls? Where's the butler? I need help climbing out of bed. I know I told him to leave the step ladder next to the bed.
OK, he's fired. I think I'll see if David Hasselhoff is looking for work. Yeah, I'll do that tomorrow. Well, since I left the phone on the dresser, I guess I am stuck here until Juan Carlos comes home from his late night jazzercise class.
I hope he comes to bed before he showers ;)
Good night sweet diary.
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