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Mr. Jr. does not give a fuck. Born due to a botched coat-hanger abortion, Jr. was never young and does not age. This is the magic behind Schedule I narcotics. Schedule II narcotics may also produce this effect.  It doesn't really matter. His balls are bigger than yours. Any balls are bigger than no balls. Do the math. This is why most babies suck at life. They can't add and they don't notice when something gets taken away. Things like their bottle or when the police take away their dad. That's a real shit situation for a baby to be in, but they are too dumb to get out of a toxic environment. Numbers matter.
Before Mr. Jr's rise to stardom, he worked at a goat farm. He was abruptly fired for swapping the goat cheese with something far more sinister. It was at this time that he began to discover his true calling: traveling the world and absorbing all of its cultures. He packed up his belongings and set course for a path of self-discovery.
After spending literally hundreds of dollars Jr. discovered that you could learn about the people of the world with the internet, without having to travel. FUCK!!! That's the problem with the world today. You spend all this time doing something the wrong way and then some fucking asshole tells you the right way to do it after you are already done. Where were you when I was up to my ass in alligators?! Thanks a lot, you dick. But I digress, on behalf of Mr. Jr. 
When Mr. Jr. lost his job at the alpaca farm we mentioned previously, he really fell into a slump. He decided to turn to the church. That decision quickly took a turn for the worst and now Jr. was at an all-time low. All of these do-good churchy mother fuckers were offering him thoughts and prayers, as if he didn't already have an internet full of those. To top it off, having to deal with the thought of people he knew that had passed from this life smiling down at him from Heaven was absolutely disgusting. Days passed. He swore that he would never let himself experience a setback like this again.
He turned to the great mother Kali seeking guidance and infinite power. Knowing that the fate of humanity was hanging in the balance, she obliged. No longer a down and out ant farmer, he was ready for the world. He was ready for anything. Roll out the red carpet and get the fuck out of the way. No more animal farm bullshit for Mr. Jr. He was ready for the big-time.
Life is funny that way. One minute you are stuck at a dead-end job cleaning up snail shit for some cousin-fucker. The next you are getting your dick sucked by a total stranger on the other side of the glory hole or eating tacos or some shit. Again, it doesn't really matter. As long as you never give up on your dreams you can do anything. I believe that, on behalf of Mr. Jr.
From the shit-filled tent cities on the muddy banks of the Ohio, we proudly present to you:  Mr. Jr.