Oh, Joe. Not you too. Now I’m gonna have to throw out my Jonas Brothers records along with my Miley Cyrus records. What’s left to listen to? Radiohead?! Not. Fair. Because I love you guys. I do, I really do. Midgets are magical creatures, like unicorns. And, no, it’s not a sexual thing, because I wear a purity ring just like you. I, too, think I’m better than everyone else and want to save myself for marriage. But if you’re better than everyone else, Joe, why this?
Why disappoint your fans? Why not stick to doing what you do best, and by that I mean wearing scarves and trimming your bushy eyebrows so they don’t grow down into your eyes? Your pretty, pretty, un-slanty eyes. (Actually, come to think of it, a lot of people think you have slanty eyes.) But, but…where was I? Your eyes. Right. Your pretty eyes make my giney tickle. No, I didn’t mean that. I will stay pure, even if you don’t. Yes, I did. God, I’m so confused! What do I believe in anymore? What’s next? Are you really even a virgin? Can I honestly believe that you and Camilla Belle haven’t done the nasty? What if that purity ring is like Britney’s vow to keep her cherry until marriage, in other words, a big fat lie? What if everything about you and your brothers is one big fat lie? What if you’re not really these squeaky-clean nice guys, and you’re actually d-bags? How do I know that you don’t like porn and have herpes and really like making out with other guys? Are you and your brothers really even midgets? Do you like smoking marijuana? Oh, Joe. I hate this feeling. I do. My giney is so not tickling for you right now. So. Not.
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