Euphoric Deliverance Provokes Deft Writer

Neither fame, nor fortune sought, sans this anonymous wordsmith, whose quirky pastiche (no matter evokes collywobbles, when risky business undertaken to spill forth most confidential personal woes), broadcasting a heart of darkness, Joseph Conrad might find quaint- lee amusing, & considerably less far reaching encompassing than his (former) humanity ink home passing (just one heir iz all seek king soul full asylum), versus us storied author, (not me), whose didactic éminence grise, moreso attributed, thee now esteemed Polish man of letters to leave a nonpareil earning, deserving, and crowning legacy far greater than yours truly, could ever hope for, though as iterated with opening sentence, neither renown, nor a bucket load of money motivates this anonymous scrivener, he me rilly aspires to clutch ephemeral notions (yes some themes recur more than once), nonetheless a euphoric exuberance arises, no matter, one or more pairs oven ranging unknown reader's keen eyes scowl at this petrified disc ore dent fountainhead, he dares alluding to his saddled beasts of burden on par with shrugging, colluding, bearing, et cetera atlas, perhaps presuming this measly mortal strives to trick up ersatz scratchings asthma grandiloquent (albeit, "FAKE") Magnum Opus, nyat! This informed cognoscenti disavows any haughty, lofty, pretentious, etc. thinker only enjoys waggish badinage!