Dr. Antonio Perkins

I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. You couldn't walk 50 feet down the road without stepping on a cigarette butt. My father smoked Parliaments, my friends would tease me because we were too poor to afford Marlboros. I flushed my fathers pack down the toilet. He never loved me since.

We meet face to face on a narrow sidewalk. Uppercut to the face. You stumble backwards, I sweep your feet from under you. You're on the ground. I light a cigarette. You get up and run off. "Queer", I mumble under my breath, a soft plume of smoke escaping my moisturized lips.

Can't relate to this. I use completely organic ingredients for everything I make. Last night, Fettuccine Alfredo, $260 blow to the bank. My wife didn't like it, threw half of it in the trash. I don't miss being poor.

Never thought there were "pros" in any religion. How can you confidently say you're a professional at something like religion? Sheesh, people are so full of themselves these days.

Sitting in my cubicle at work, I'm starving. Waiting for that lunch break like it's Christmas Eve. Antonio needs sustenance!

The wife keeps nagging me to stop smoking. I just scoff. Antonio does what Antonio wants.

Tried the vape I confiscated from my son yesterday night. I hurled all over the kitchen counter, completely drenching my power bill with vile. Damn it, Antonio. You always do this to yourself, you big doof.

Jesus Christ. How have I not heard of this.

I make $175 an hour. It's cute seeing the younger generations boast their wages. Personally, I am too humble to post my salary on the internet, and I was raised by two hard-working parents, but I understand that social media has had a narcissistic effect on the kids. Sad.

Rap music is killing your soul, young buck. I stopped listening to music in 2009. Thought it was "cool" to call women derogatory names after listening to Little Wayne. Mother kicked me out, haven't spoken since . I will pray for you at the dinner table tonight.

As a journalist, my biggest strength is clearly my intellect. I go to Starbucks every morning to pick up a latte. This morning, the young, olive-skinned barista greeted me, not knowing I immediately knew they were of Jewish descent. I did not leave a tip.

Wasn't that funny. My first trip to The Netherlands I mistakenly groped an androgynous Dutch man with golden locks down to his bust. Despite it all, their language is still beautiful to me.

Nope. I'm more of a "High off life" type of guy. Personally don't need glorified crack cocaine to keep me energized throughout the day. The kids most definitely will not be touching these either, no thanks!

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