Yeah, so after the forced hiatus, I'm back to bring you guys some wonderful news!
Nothing new. Sorry. I was hoping World War III would start by now, but life keeps punching me in the face.
Anyways, things are looking shitty as always. Freshman congressman haven't really touched anything with monumental purpose. Politics is looking bad. I would just tell you that a black guy shot a white guy for robbing the black guy blind, but I believe that's too vicarious for your taste. In short, I'm not so happy. You're not either, else you wouldn't be here. But after an old man's ranting. (Shut the fuck up, you're twenty.) Oh wait. Still feeling old. My brain is still in need of rewiring. So if any of you are willing to give me a lobotomy. Feel free.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Social Standards
Blah, blah, blah, preachy-fuck social standards.
Shit happens, you feel uncomfortable because you're an outcast, and you just hate standards set by people with a shitload of money. Because hey, fuck them. Fuck them and their fifteen-year-old daughter you're about to spill your seed in.
Tip#1: Find groups of popular people and interject with anything.
Tired of people picking on you because you're different? Show them being different is a-okay by stabbing them in the fucking neck. Don't take their shit. And her mother does crack. And his step-father likes to play hide the "treasure" in his mouth. Because being unique to a certain degree is good for you. Just know that you're all humans. And no matter how much society wants you to group off, you're better off shooting society in the penis.
Tip#2: Barter, barter, barter. Services for services, hand-job for a sandwich, woman for a different woman.
A currency system is so very overrated. What value is, let's say, a dollar if I find that it holds no actual value? I prefer things like fellatio. Or a cookie. Especially a cookie if you want me to kill people for you. Obstruct! Burn your money! Who needs that shit anyways? You're going to start trading a skill you're good at for other peoples' skills. Because if you can't do something you enjoy, I'll put a leech on your left testicle.
How do you start? STEAL. Steal a bunch of shit. Don't go soft. If you want to start a bartering system you must first have things you can trade. So go to your local Wal- and just take fucking everything in a cart and run. RUN! Now you're ready to start your own post-apocalyptic trading post. Or buy a Vietnamese girl and sell her vagina. It works more than stealing shit. You just have to make sure she's twelve. Because thirteen is just too fucking old.
Tip#3: People with golden ideals are too fucking lazy to do anything about it.
Oh shi-
Shit happens, you feel uncomfortable because you're an outcast, and you just hate standards set by people with a shitload of money. Because hey, fuck them. Fuck them and their fifteen-year-old daughter you're about to spill your seed in.
Tip#1: Find groups of popular people and interject with anything.
Tired of people picking on you because you're different? Show them being different is a-okay by stabbing them in the fucking neck. Don't take their shit. And her mother does crack. And his step-father likes to play hide the "treasure" in his mouth. Because being unique to a certain degree is good for you. Just know that you're all humans. And no matter how much society wants you to group off, you're better off shooting society in the penis.
Tip#2: Barter, barter, barter. Services for services, hand-job for a sandwich, woman for a different woman.
A currency system is so very overrated. What value is, let's say, a dollar if I find that it holds no actual value? I prefer things like fellatio. Or a cookie. Especially a cookie if you want me to kill people for you. Obstruct! Burn your money! Who needs that shit anyways? You're going to start trading a skill you're good at for other peoples' skills. Because if you can't do something you enjoy, I'll put a leech on your left testicle.
How do you start? STEAL. Steal a bunch of shit. Don't go soft. If you want to start a bartering system you must first have things you can trade. So go to your local Wal- and just take fucking everything in a cart and run. RUN! Now you're ready to start your own post-apocalyptic trading post. Or buy a Vietnamese girl and sell her vagina. It works more than stealing shit. You just have to make sure she's twelve. Because thirteen is just too fucking old.
Tip#3: People with golden ideals are too fucking lazy to do anything about it.
Oh shi-
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Grenade.
Life lays low looking for layers that don't exist.
Everlasting enigma ready to burst like a growing cyst.
Circles of cycles slaving to become a parabola.
Preying on pure play of innocent so the circle can have it all.
Everlasting enigma ready to burst like a growing cyst.
Circles of cycles slaving to become a parabola.
Preying on pure play of innocent so the circle can have it all.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Realisation of a Demented Mind
Taking my brain into pieces, I will tour you around what I believe is my mind. Or you know. A brain. That works. Maybe half the time. I don’t know. Penis.
The first part we will come around to is the textbook social awkwardness that a lot of people that manage to find this article have. Face it. Dick. People like us manage a couple of friends that show each other love by berating each other. And we degrade each other in the worst of ways. And we live off of it. It is this part of my mind that hurts my larger goal of actually getting people to laugh at my rantings because, well… You know. No one who has a massive amount of charisma manages to find this shit. But here I am. Content at least someone saw this and made their day just slightly better.
The second part we’ll come around to is my oh-so-lovely paranoia. Quick think DDR mixes before they got really shitty! Paranoia can be more fun than you originally think. I mean, you get to constantly sense that the clown over there in the corner is watching you. And talking about how much he loves to use your stuffed animals to touch your naughty places. NAUGHTY PLACES! Cock. That clown wants to rape you. Did I say paranoia? I meant you were supposed to mix it with schizophrenia. Like a cocktail! Drink it. It won’t kill you. It’s just a massive amount of fun.
Lastly, we’ll take the Magic School Bus into the abyss. This is the part where morality seems to blend with my desensitized sense of humor. (E.g.: What’s more fun than tying a baby to a tetherball pole? STOPPING IT WITH A SHOVEL!) There’s black and white. The area in between those is a massive distance of different grays. And that clown is waiting for you wherever you’re staying at. With his big, shiny… Anyways. This is what makes me lack faith in any deistic religion. My ability to stray in the gray. Where you can see that people make up gods to explain parts of nature they could initially not explain. Like that clown wanting to touch your “Michael-Jackson-Only”. He really wants you. Really.
Really. PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIS.
The first part we will come around to is the textbook social awkwardness that a lot of people that manage to find this article have. Face it. Dick. People like us manage a couple of friends that show each other love by berating each other. And we degrade each other in the worst of ways. And we live off of it. It is this part of my mind that hurts my larger goal of actually getting people to laugh at my rantings because, well… You know. No one who has a massive amount of charisma manages to find this shit. But here I am. Content at least someone saw this and made their day just slightly better.
The second part we’ll come around to is my oh-so-lovely paranoia. Quick think DDR mixes before they got really shitty! Paranoia can be more fun than you originally think. I mean, you get to constantly sense that the clown over there in the corner is watching you. And talking about how much he loves to use your stuffed animals to touch your naughty places. NAUGHTY PLACES! Cock. That clown wants to rape you. Did I say paranoia? I meant you were supposed to mix it with schizophrenia. Like a cocktail! Drink it. It won’t kill you. It’s just a massive amount of fun.
Lastly, we’ll take the Magic School Bus into the abyss. This is the part where morality seems to blend with my desensitized sense of humor. (E.g.: What’s more fun than tying a baby to a tetherball pole? STOPPING IT WITH A SHOVEL!) There’s black and white. The area in between those is a massive distance of different grays. And that clown is waiting for you wherever you’re staying at. With his big, shiny… Anyways. This is what makes me lack faith in any deistic religion. My ability to stray in the gray. Where you can see that people make up gods to explain parts of nature they could initially not explain. Like that clown wanting to touch your “Michael-Jackson-Only”. He really wants you. Really.
Really. PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIS.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Thinking like a Sociopath. (How to become a politician!)
Here in District 22 of Houston, Texas, my readers might already have a mindset for me. STEERS AND QUEERS. AM I RIGHT? Seeing as how my nature is not set to eat grass and have people use my excreted waste for fertilizer and then have them eat me, I guess that makes me a queer. A queer who’s going to talk about politics. And you know, you have to read. Because your last resort to cure boredom was to read a gay man’s political advice. And you can’t turn away now, oh no. You’re bored. Where else do you have to go? You’ve already searched the edges of the internet of gay midget rim jobs and Japanese tentacle rape. You have no where else to turn for entertainment than here. (Bwa-ha-ha-ha)
Now that I have your attention: Becoming a local politician in your town doesn’t have to be hard at all. Just follow my advice and make sure to steal everyone’s campaign poster and you’ll do fine.
1) Make sure you’re loud. As I’ve mentioned before, the louder you are,the more people will hear you the more sane you sound to others. Being rational has nothing to do with anything. Just shout over a megaphone that you want to lower everyone’s taxes, you hate Obama, and you love religion. Make sure that religion is a branch of Christianity or you get stones thrown at you and words to hurt your feelings. Meh. Scratch that. I’m sure if you yell loud enough, people will only care that you believe in god. So make sure you have anything to amplify your voice to pollute a quiet neighborhood with noise almost as loud as a goddamn rocket. And you have to be that loud. To gather many, many grumpy people out of their houses at three o’clock in the morning. Because people are busy at any other time of the day and you know this.
2) Write your name on every campaign poster. Make sure you black/white out everything except your name the “Vote for” and whatever office that other guy was running for. Fuck him. He’s not winning with someone as determined as you running for that same seat. While your out making your statements don’t be afraid to hold up a sign you personally made with someone else’s sign and get the crowd you angered so early in their precious morning to riot. Did I say riot? I meant rally. For you. Just say you work for (insert candidates name here) and say he specifically told you to wake these poor and middle class people (maybe some hobos) because he didn’t give a fuck about them. And then tell them where he/she sleeps. And works. The “rally” will be such a classic site. Bonus! You’re running with no opponent.
3) Now that we’ve cleared any opposition to whatever seat you’re trying to run for, we definitely need to work on that background you have. Things like rape, statutory rape, quadruple homicide, and escape from a mental institution are bad things for media to find out. OH WAIT. That guy people just murdered. He has a friendly name. And you magically look suspiciously like him. What a fucking win. Too bad that guy trying to keep up his shitty marriage and two affairs. Good luck having energy with that piece of shit penis you got stuck with. Well, almost clear sailing from here. We just have to take care of the people who can tell you’re different from the guy you got hundreds of hobos and poor people to kill. I’m sure you can manage it. You didn’t commit that quadruple homicide for nothing. I mean that guy stole your fucking breakfast doughnut. And the other three people tried to stop you from taking it back. They just had to die.
4) Voting day! You know what to do. You’re running unopposed. You can just relax and wait for the results.
Results: Peter Griffin = 97%; You = 3%
That’s right. You lost to a goddamn fictional character. And not just a lost, this was a fucking landslide of gigantic proportions. Well, you’re still out of the loony bin. Might as well kill some more people before they exile you from public air.
Now that I have your attention: Becoming a local politician in your town doesn’t have to be hard at all. Just follow my advice and make sure to steal everyone’s campaign poster and you’ll do fine.
1) Make sure you’re loud. As I’ve mentioned before, the louder you are,
2) Write your name on every campaign poster. Make sure you black/white out everything except your name the “Vote for” and whatever office that other guy was running for. Fuck him. He’s not winning with someone as determined as you running for that same seat. While your out making your statements don’t be afraid to hold up a sign you personally made with someone else’s sign and get the crowd you angered so early in their precious morning to riot. Did I say riot? I meant rally. For you. Just say you work for (insert candidates name here) and say he specifically told you to wake these poor and middle class people (maybe some hobos) because he didn’t give a fuck about them. And then tell them where he/she sleeps. And works. The “rally” will be such a classic site. Bonus! You’re running with no opponent.
3) Now that we’ve cleared any opposition to whatever seat you’re trying to run for, we definitely need to work on that background you have. Things like rape, statutory rape, quadruple homicide, and escape from a mental institution are bad things for media to find out. OH WAIT. That guy people just murdered. He has a friendly name. And you magically look suspiciously like him. What a fucking win. Too bad that guy trying to keep up his shitty marriage and two affairs. Good luck having energy with that piece of shit penis you got stuck with. Well, almost clear sailing from here. We just have to take care of the people who can tell you’re different from the guy you got hundreds of hobos and poor people to kill. I’m sure you can manage it. You didn’t commit that quadruple homicide for nothing. I mean that guy stole your fucking breakfast doughnut. And the other three people tried to stop you from taking it back. They just had to die.
4) Voting day! You know what to do. You’re running unopposed. You can just relax and wait for the results.
Results: Peter Griffin = 97%; You = 3%
That’s right. You lost to a goddamn fictional character. And not just a lost, this was a fucking landslide of gigantic proportions. Well, you’re still out of the loony bin. Might as well kill some more people before they exile you from public air.
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