Crap I Don't Know Resident Evil 7 I guess (Patreon)

Baby i got so much content, you don't even know. I got content for days. You think i just sit around scratching myself in odd places? Hell no. I'm grinding 24/7 365. 

I been playing games, i been recording games, i been recording myself saying stupid shit on top of those games. I've been editing those recordings to take out the crappy parts, AND the boring parts, leaving only the purest and finest product. I been uploading the videos. I been forgetting to actually post them until the last day of the month when i gotta be somewhere in like an hour. I been hurriedly pounding out some kind of accompanying set of humorous paragraphs to go with those backed up videos i forgot to post all month. 

I'm talkin words man. Writing words. and talking words. and writing more words. that's what i do, that's my job. Saying a whole lot but not really sayin nothing. That's what i do and that's my profession. I'm the Patreon Man. A new character. A character you only see sometimes. Once every 4 weeks or so. People say, there goes Peter Patreon, power-strutting down the boulevard without a care in the world. Ain't you forgetting something, boy? 

And i say, nope! Can't think of a thing. Life is swell, since i'm not on the internet ever and don't think about it. I'm a real boy having real adventures and living a real life in the real world. Making passionate love to only the most beautiful of women, staying at the finest 5 star hotels, and eating only the most expensive meals. Life is swell, thanks to my precious money. I just can't seem to recall at the moment, where that money comes from. Oh well, It's probably not important. 

And then the old men in the tavern just slap their knees and shake their heads going "oh that Peter Patreon. He never learns." and i say mind your own goddamn business, you drunks. 

And i resume power-walking back to my honeymoon suite on the top floor of the extravagant Hotel Paradisico, but now there's a seed of doubt in the back of my mind, as i can't help but wonder why the old men in the tavern regard me with such sly ridicule. 

I try to put it out of my mind and go about my day to day leisure. But by now the month is halfway through and something is nagging at me that i can't quite put my finger on. My food tastes bland, my mood is dour, and even pleasures of the flesh can not satisfy me. I wonder what could be causing this melancholy as the days continue to fly by. 

Until at last, and with crushing inevitability, the month reaches it's final days. And all at once i awake with a jolt of remembrance. "Oh CrAp!" i exclaim with the horror of dawning clarity. "MoNEY cOMEs fROM WoRKING!"

Oh fuck did i remember to post those videos on patreon oh shit oh fuck how much time do i have left 

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Here's a Resident Evil 7 video. Don't worry, it's hilarious.