That line from the father's song in Mary Poppins, where he's going on about how nothing can go wrong, in Britain in 1910. That's about the point I realized the boy was gonna die in a trench.
Don't fucking judge me, I've got tentacles for a face.
A restored page from a 12th-century manuscript of Principia Discordia(Also, hello again! I hung around here for a bit of couple of years ago, then the world ended at least twice, I got an exciting new brain medication, and I recently remembered Discordianism exists)
