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You Have No Style, You Have No Soul: Please Eat a Past-Due Eclair and Enjoy Botulism

It's one of those evenings. Really. Everything's played. Most of the large majority of a plethora of things by and large suck. Which means we're reduced to ranting. Sure, we could toe the Gawker line and bitch that Si can rim us and Jobs' cotomer sevis is roughly at-or-below third-world levels. And then we realize the…

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