I said, “I wish there were ten of me to get a ton of shit done every day all day that would be amazing. It would be perfect, we’d all do great work with great results and I wouldn’t have to explain anything, because they’d all be me, so I’d always do what I want in the way that I want at all times always. I could dance, draw, eat, exercise, learn a language, learn an instrument, make music mixes, read, relax, shop, sleep, study, travel, write, paint and create, all at once. I think God really fucked up by not giving me this option.” Dylan said, “So do I get to make out and have sex with all of the clones?” “Listen, buster,” I said. “The clones are for me to make mad progress from many highly productive simultaneous actions. They’re not for you to get your rocks off. You’re not supposed to disrupt my work.” Sheesh. Husbands. “So, no?” said Dylan.


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