If you knew Trevor, you wouldn’t ask.
The world changes, and we just accept it. We call it progress. Well, progress is a car, and Trevor is driving it, and the destination is a place where only he wants to go. A sled, a horse, a cart, a buggy, a Model T Ford, a hover car – whatever it is, there has always been a Trevor to drive it. The rest are mindless passengers, riding drugged, sucking at the teat of the mother of abominations.
You think you know Greg? Of course you do.
You don’t know Edgaredgarberger.
I am mymatejoechip, and here is my report on what is going on. Only my name has been changed, to protect the guilty.