Ode to Deitribe

I once saw a man with freak lips eating phillip morris gundertons with a spork. He ate them in alternating ascending and descending order with an ascertion of meager magnitude. 1, 2, 3, 4, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 4... You get the idea.
I wonder how it feels to be freak lipped with OCD of this sort. Many would laugh and stare at the lips as if they had pomposity enough to make and publish alternate theories of relative risk taking. I almost vomited when they saluted a venereal beggar. What was he doing there? He was not as odious as I recalled but secreted an attraction that I had to wash my hands of before urinating. A reiteration of the most recent pandemic representing the various peccary illnesses. A gluttonous, communicable disease without attrition, making humanity a laughable suggestion, a bag of miserable, mildly sentient meat.
There is no hope and Deitribe is not here to help. The secret is out. PIG!