Hold everything, untie the rope from the boulder, take down the noose from the beam,
put the knife back in the drawer, and tidy up the gas tube.
If you really must do it, there must be a good reason, and I'm serving it up
on a silver platter. Otherwise, what's the point of having friends!
Welcome back today to the column that has made Sweden lose its suicide rate title,
the same column that has earned it for Denmark,
Finland, Iceland, and Norway. The most nonsensical magazine for sunshades in Siberia,
more useless than a book by Adinolfi at a rave party, in fact, even more useless than an Adinolfi book.
The only column in the world you can sing in the shower, hum when you go to the cellar to exorcise fear,
and belt out in the doctor's waiting room to mask an untimely fart.
Today is a connoisseur's selection, for serious Debaser fans!
We are in Italy [18], in a symbolic place... well, do I have to say everything?
Stand up and break a leg!
