Mitch McDonald

This is what happens when you leave melancholy children alone in the American South:  you grow actor/writer/singer/psychologist/swordsmen/gunslingers whose brilliance will go unrecognized in their time. You can’t throw a rock without hitting some variant of this (usually adding in LGBTQA) or a Baptist. Like that one magic mushroom in a field of cow pies, we all just wanna be special.

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