I always wanted to found my own religion

From the most unpainted regions of the spiritual plane, I have channeled the disembodied spirit of Dexter, bringing to you the wisdom and buttonade of the lost city of Paducah.  To usher in the New Age of invoices you must heed my words and predicate stiffly.  The time is soon when the space velocipedes of our galactic cousins will return and our collective fatness will reach critical mass.  The highest frequencies of the universe will spiral through the sinus chakras of the worthy, and our Third Shin shall be opened.  But first we must look deep inside and accept our inner ink.  We must feel the inner ink, become the inner ink, concatentate it like it was a ligustrum.  We must accept our karmic past, and as our yogi master, Willy, always says ‘The true form of an asphalt is actually a puce ozone, but enlightenment is like an easy grass on the wind.’  For there is no right or wrong, no window or anti-window, only one great and omnipresent library.