And so the wordsmith known as "Your HighNess, Potstar" had all this to say to me:
...which I guess in her addled mind proves all my points wrong, or something.
Don't cross Lisa Dank, ladies and gentlemen, or she might write nonsense about suffocating you with a giant "volcano" bag used to hold copious amounts of pot smoke. Or accuse you of lying—about being gay?—and suggest you suck a clit. Or correct your grammar. Or, you know, maybe steal your dog.