So I asked the question "Is everybody happy?" and I don't expect a response, it's sort of a rhetorical question, Kinda like "Does anybody give a fuck?"....
Of course not everybody is happy. We live in a world of disparity, social inequality, dystopia...
And the chasm is widening.
So anyways, they're watching this thing on the television in the living room about a congressional task force to combat opioid addiction, (seems like congress never heard of NA, for some reason..) or maybe it was to combat the opioid epidemic, I think that's how they worded it. So I searched to find out what exactly is the difference between opioids and opiates. I figure, Dilaudids, Oxys, Perks, Vikes, etc. right? Well, according to http://www.lifescript.com/health/briefs/l/list_of_opioids.aspx It seems that opiates are derived from opium, while opioids are synthetic, basically synthetic opiates, so I guess they act on the human psyche the same way, and since humans like to get high, they are addictive, and so Uncle Sam considers them to be "highly controlled" or so says the website I pasted the link to above. So there's this suit on there talking, Senator Whoever The Fuck He Is, and he's babbling about how there are non-opioid alternatives that big pharma could be selling instead, and some gobbledy-goop about how they could profit from it... And I started thinking about it, how they could profit... That's all they're interested in, making a profit. They don't care about helping people, just about profits. That's fucked up. That's the reason why they haven't found a cure for anything yet, they don't want to find a cure, because if they did they'd lose money. It's never been about helping anybody, it's all about how some fascist rich fucks can get richer. They aren't even looking for cures for diseases, they're looking for pills that give short-term relief, so you have to keep buying more pills, so they get richer. They aren't Florence Nightingale, they're the dopeman. They want everyone hooked on their pills. If they did manage to find a cure for cancer, or aids, or the common cold, or anything, they'd bury it so they could keep on selling pills. Power corrupts, and money begets the lust for more money. That, and then there's the underlying population control, which is far more sinister, because when they say "population control" what they actually mean is depopulation.
They want people to die from diseases, and wars, and anything else, because there are too many people, and they can't seem to get people to quit fucking, no matter how much prudish religious fundamentalism they cram down people's throats, because people enjoy fucking. Woo! Big surprise there, huh? People like to fuck! Imagine that. See, back in the middle ages people were populating along at a pretty good clip, and then they had the black death, the bubonic plague, and something like two thirds of Europeans died off. All of a sudden the lords and barons and dukes and kings had to actually work, lest they starve, because most of the serfs were dead from plague. Needless to say, their royal hind-nesses didn't like this arrangement, they needed more slaves to do the work so that they could sit on their fat asses and feast all day, and have royal cotillions all night. So they urged the peasants to be fruitful and multiply. Trouble is, humans can multiply almost as well as rabbits. That's why we have too fuckin many humans for Mother Earth to sustain for much longer, especially at the rate we're going, taking from the land without giving anything back, poisoning the air, land, and water, eating and shitting, like leeches, or like a parasitic virus, which eventually bleeds its host dry, and the host dies, and in turn the virus dies with it. I don't want humanity to go extinct. I'd be, if not happy, at least less upset, maybe even calm and mellow, if all the rich bastards were to go extinct.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Friday, December 25, 2015
Bawhumbug... (Merry Fuckin Christmas)
So... Haven't been here in awhile... Uh huh. Yessir.
Just some weird shit that randomly careens thru my mind:
1) The word homage. If pronounced the way it's spelled, would sound like "Hommij" or "Home-ij", but has always been pronounced with a silent h and short o, like "ommij", well, that is until the phony, pretentious yuppy fucks got ahold of it, and tried to Frenchitize it, like "Oh-Mahzh" which makes the speaker sound like a pompous douchebag, in my opinion, kind of like when they say "Awn-velope" for envelope.
2) The word sugar. Why do we pronounce it "Shooger" and not "Soo-Gar"? Why does Suge Knight spell his namd Suge, which should rhyme with spooge, instead of just spelling it Shoog? Must be a G thing, I guess.
{I was thinking about that while taking a shit this morning.}
3) Andy Kaufmann didn't have a cow in his name, it rhymes with Hoffmann.
4) Yeah, I've probably written about this before, but I can't remember because I suffer from CRS (Can't Remember Shit), and I enjoy smoking pot. They say it fucks with one's short-term, uh, what is that fuckin word again?
So, on account of it being December 25th and all, I decided to make this post half red and half green. Woo fuckin hoo.
I'm going to smoke a li'l nuggy now.
Mmmm... Better! Now where was I at again? Jacob Marley. Aw Bob Saget. (There. There's an homage to Ebenezer Scrooge and Danny the Tourette's Guy.) [Fuck you and every mall santa that looks like you!] {& somewhere in the back of your mind right now is Bob Marley.}
I'm a man of very little capital this December 25th, thanx in part to the weather, bills, and the InFernal Revenue Service. (Yep, them fucks.) And, as a direct result of being a man of very little capital, I'm also a man of very little bud remaining. :(
Anyways...
Since dragging my fifty-year-old ass up out of bed this morning, approximately two hours ago, I have searched and read about the evolution of the Jeep, studied the local weather forecast [fap-fap], listened to CW McCall relaying a musical anecdote about crossing the great divide in a semi, and perused some interesting pictures and video footage of women with bizarre ink inserting bizarre (sometimes living) objects into bodily orifices... Then I was bored enough to write.
So. I'm not a very Christmasy sort of dude. I used to go thru the motions of my upbringing, get a tree, string lights on it, hang shit on it, etc. And no matter how much you water it, it drops needles everywhere, cats climb it, dogs piss on it, and inevitably some drunk motherfucker falls into it and down it goes, along with Grandma's antique family heirloom blowed-glass Christmas balls. Thpbt.
Fake trees don't fare much better. Besides, fake trees suck.
So I have this bag of old lights that I intercepted on its way from a job to the dump. I saved the ones that still work. I was thinking about haphazardly throwing them on the bushes in front of the house, just for the fuck of it, but it's raining outside. Someone dreamed of a wet Christmas.
December 25th, 2015 - It's 70 degrees and thunderstorming. The neighbors were blowing up fireworks last night. Not the drunks across the street either, someone one street over. Maybe I'll build a fire in the yard and throw the rest of the leftover fireworks we have laying around into it. But it's fuckin raining. Coffee beckons. Merry fuckin Christmas.
Just some weird shit that randomly careens thru my mind:
1) The word homage. If pronounced the way it's spelled, would sound like "Hommij" or "Home-ij", but has always been pronounced with a silent h and short o, like "ommij", well, that is until the phony, pretentious yuppy fucks got ahold of it, and tried to Frenchitize it, like "Oh-Mahzh" which makes the speaker sound like a pompous douchebag, in my opinion, kind of like when they say "Awn-velope" for envelope.
2) The word sugar. Why do we pronounce it "Shooger" and not "Soo-Gar"? Why does Suge Knight spell his namd Suge, which should rhyme with spooge, instead of just spelling it Shoog? Must be a G thing, I guess.
{I was thinking about that while taking a shit this morning.}
3) Andy Kaufmann didn't have a cow in his name, it rhymes with Hoffmann.
4) Yeah, I've probably written about this before, but I can't remember because I suffer from CRS (Can't Remember Shit), and I enjoy smoking pot. They say it fucks with one's short-term, uh, what is that fuckin word again?
So, on account of it being December 25th and all, I decided to make this post half red and half green. Woo fuckin hoo.
I'm going to smoke a li'l nuggy now.
Mmmm... Better! Now where was I at again? Jacob Marley. Aw Bob Saget. (There. There's an homage to Ebenezer Scrooge and Danny the Tourette's Guy.) [Fuck you and every mall santa that looks like you!] {& somewhere in the back of your mind right now is Bob Marley.}
Ah! There He Is!!
I'm a man of very little capital this December 25th, thanx in part to the weather, bills, and the InFernal Revenue Service. (Yep, them fucks.) And, as a direct result of being a man of very little capital, I'm also a man of very little bud remaining. :(
Anyways...
Since dragging my fifty-year-old ass up out of bed this morning, approximately two hours ago, I have searched and read about the evolution of the Jeep, studied the local weather forecast [fap-fap], listened to CW McCall relaying a musical anecdote about crossing the great divide in a semi, and perused some interesting pictures and video footage of women with bizarre ink inserting bizarre (sometimes living) objects into bodily orifices... Then I was bored enough to write.
So. I'm not a very Christmasy sort of dude. I used to go thru the motions of my upbringing, get a tree, string lights on it, hang shit on it, etc. And no matter how much you water it, it drops needles everywhere, cats climb it, dogs piss on it, and inevitably some drunk motherfucker falls into it and down it goes, along with Grandma's antique family heirloom blowed-glass Christmas balls. Thpbt.
Fake trees don't fare much better. Besides, fake trees suck.
So I have this bag of old lights that I intercepted on its way from a job to the dump. I saved the ones that still work. I was thinking about haphazardly throwing them on the bushes in front of the house, just for the fuck of it, but it's raining outside. Someone dreamed of a wet Christmas.
December 25th, 2015 - It's 70 degrees and thunderstorming. The neighbors were blowing up fireworks last night. Not the drunks across the street either, someone one street over. Maybe I'll build a fire in the yard and throw the rest of the leftover fireworks we have laying around into it. But it's fuckin raining. Coffee beckons. Merry fuckin Christmas.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Spew...
I think I'm gonna spew my coffee. All over my keyboard, monitor, worktable, my lap, everything. Is it possible to sympathy spew? I don't know. I got fat when my ex was pregnant, I grew a sympathy belly, so maybe. Maybe I'm just sick of the current state of society...
I have a friend who won't stop drinking alcohol, and at least three friends, probably more, currently under the spell of heroin. And when I look at the world all around, sometimes I can't really blame them. Who wants to read about war and death and government fascism and police brutality and GMO food products and children starving while bankers count their money and killer vaccines and goddamn politics every day? ...I've been pondering "What does a nervous breakdown feel like?"
Where is a Bodhi tree when one needs one? ...Or have the corporate fascist bastards bulldozed them all to build another parking lot? I'd really like to smoke some pot. I'd like to hold a little twenty-something girl in my arms and just sleep all day. There are a lot of things I'd like to do. I'd like to be an Eagle, soaring high above it all, oblivious to humanity and all its suffering. But I'm a man, not an eagle. Not a hawk. Not a dove. Not a wolf, or a puma, not a donkey or a prairie dog. And not a mouse either. I'm part bear, because my great Grandmother was a Bear, but I'm just one man.
There's a story. The legend of Jumping Mouse. I tried to find a version of it that I could copy/paste here, because I don't feel like typing that much right now, but the best I could find was this: The Legend Of Jumping Mouse
Everything is falling apart. It's not a facepalm. It's a Flippedysquit. And it's surely Flibbertyjibbitz.
I have a friend who won't stop drinking alcohol, and at least three friends, probably more, currently under the spell of heroin. And when I look at the world all around, sometimes I can't really blame them. Who wants to read about war and death and government fascism and police brutality and GMO food products and children starving while bankers count their money and killer vaccines and goddamn politics every day? ...I've been pondering "What does a nervous breakdown feel like?"
Where is a Bodhi tree when one needs one? ...Or have the corporate fascist bastards bulldozed them all to build another parking lot? I'd really like to smoke some pot. I'd like to hold a little twenty-something girl in my arms and just sleep all day. There are a lot of things I'd like to do. I'd like to be an Eagle, soaring high above it all, oblivious to humanity and all its suffering. But I'm a man, not an eagle. Not a hawk. Not a dove. Not a wolf, or a puma, not a donkey or a prairie dog. And not a mouse either. I'm part bear, because my great Grandmother was a Bear, but I'm just one man.
There's a story. The legend of Jumping Mouse. I tried to find a version of it that I could copy/paste here, because I don't feel like typing that much right now, but the best I could find was this: The Legend Of Jumping Mouse
Everything is falling apart. It's not a facepalm. It's a Flippedysquit. And it's surely Flibbertyjibbitz.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Fuck the IRS. Fuck them right in the pussy.
Motherfuckers. Damn dirty motherfuckers. What more is there to say? "Get your filthy, shit-stained paws off my motherfuckin money, you damn dirty IRS!" Damn dirty government. Yep, yep.
Damn dirty government thinks they can just rob the working folks of this here land and they expect us to just roll over and spread our cheeks. Well fuck them. They have no right to legalize robbery. And that's exactly what they've done, but not across the board, just when applicable to themselves. They made it legal for them to rob private citizens for their own gain. Ha ha, good joke. You say that it's ok for you to rob me, because you write the stinkin laws, and fuck me if I don't like it. Yeah? Well fuck you too. Fuck you! You hear me, motherfuckers? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, and the bankers whose coat tails you held onto, and the Italian suit and silk tie you got with money you stole from taxpayers, and all the free shit you get as perks of the position. You need to bend over and assume the position, because you all deserve forty whacks, and I aim to give 'em to you. With a stainless steel boat paddle.
I'm a dangerous subversive. Subversive, because I love America and hate government, and dangerous because I have the audacity to exercise my right to free speech.
The 16th Amendment (above) states that congress shall have the power to tax income from any source. It does not suggest that they have the right to do so. I assert that they have no such right.
This rant today all stems from the fact that I'm sick and tired of being taxed into poverty by a bunch of rich bastards who do no actual work, and I'm sick of the funds they rob from me and you going to pay for the enforcement of unconstitutional laws, militarization of police, and into the pockets of the military-industrial complex. And don't even get me started on the federal reserve bank. Fuck.
Bottom line is, I signed a blank W4 and trusted the intelligence of a clerk in an office to fill it out correctly. He/she/they filled it out in a manner which allows me more per pay, but leaves me holding the bag come tax time. I should have known better. I've given instruction to change it for future reference, but unfortunately it isn't retroactive, so fuck me. I shot myself in the foot, and now I have to deal with it. Have fun with my money, Sam. But I'm seriously contemplating just not filing this year at all. I have until April to think about it. I mean, what are they gonna fuckin do? Put me in jail? I've been in jail before. Take my house away? Too late motherfuckers, my house went away twelve years ago. I still have a pot to piss in, but that's about all I have as far as material things. I have my truck, and my computer, a couple guitars, power tools, chainsaw, etc. They can't take any of that because they would be affecting my livelihood, and thereby my right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They affect my pursuit of happiness anyway, with their standard-issue, everyday bullfuck.
Damn dirty government thinks they can just rob the working folks of this here land and they expect us to just roll over and spread our cheeks. Well fuck them. They have no right to legalize robbery. And that's exactly what they've done, but not across the board, just when applicable to themselves. They made it legal for them to rob private citizens for their own gain. Ha ha, good joke. You say that it's ok for you to rob me, because you write the stinkin laws, and fuck me if I don't like it. Yeah? Well fuck you too. Fuck you! You hear me, motherfuckers? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, and the bankers whose coat tails you held onto, and the Italian suit and silk tie you got with money you stole from taxpayers, and all the free shit you get as perks of the position. You need to bend over and assume the position, because you all deserve forty whacks, and I aim to give 'em to you. With a stainless steel boat paddle.
I'm a dangerous subversive. Subversive, because I love America and hate government, and dangerous because I have the audacity to exercise my right to free speech.
The 16th Amendment (above) states that congress shall have the power to tax income from any source. It does not suggest that they have the right to do so. I assert that they have no such right.
This rant today all stems from the fact that I'm sick and tired of being taxed into poverty by a bunch of rich bastards who do no actual work, and I'm sick of the funds they rob from me and you going to pay for the enforcement of unconstitutional laws, militarization of police, and into the pockets of the military-industrial complex. And don't even get me started on the federal reserve bank. Fuck.
Bottom line is, I signed a blank W4 and trusted the intelligence of a clerk in an office to fill it out correctly. He/she/they filled it out in a manner which allows me more per pay, but leaves me holding the bag come tax time. I should have known better. I've given instruction to change it for future reference, but unfortunately it isn't retroactive, so fuck me. I shot myself in the foot, and now I have to deal with it. Have fun with my money, Sam. But I'm seriously contemplating just not filing this year at all. I have until April to think about it. I mean, what are they gonna fuckin do? Put me in jail? I've been in jail before. Take my house away? Too late motherfuckers, my house went away twelve years ago. I still have a pot to piss in, but that's about all I have as far as material things. I have my truck, and my computer, a couple guitars, power tools, chainsaw, etc. They can't take any of that because they would be affecting my livelihood, and thereby my right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They affect my pursuit of happiness anyway, with their standard-issue, everyday bullfuck.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Nine - Fourteen - Fourteen
So... Another lovely September day. Some wispy cirrus clouds in an otherwise blue sky, temperatures in the 70s.... A good cigar burning between my fingers....
Anyone with even the slightest bit of awareness knows there is something wrong. Humanity was not meant to be what it has become. There is some force pushing us in the wrong direction.
Call it what you will, its existence cannot be denied, except by idiots and the brainwashed. Leaders of nations and leaders of religions do not have the best interest of humanity or our home at heart, rather they are interested in manipulation and exploitation for their own selfish ends. This percolates down to the common man via the programming and conditioning of his mind from early childhood. People are taught to be greedy, self-centered consumers, useless eaters keeping the big machine running for the benefit of the 1%, livestock and draft animals in abject servitude to the illuminati masters. In order to break the vicious cycle and break free, one must first become aware of what is happening around them. Then they must pass this knowledge on to others.
The more who become aware, the closer we get to the overthrow of the overlords. You can choose instead to deny the truth, even as it stands before you smacking you in the face, and to go on about your delusions. That is unfortunate, but the programming is hard to undo. Throughout history there have been those who try to break the chains, unlock the cages, and set humanity free... Most of them are killed in a violent manner, often by those whose freedom they are trying to achieve, because the programmed minds are unwilling or unable to admit the truth to themselves. This is where pride gets in the way, saying, "I'm not an idiot! I couldn't possibly get swindled into believing lies! My church/government/teachers/etc. would never steer me wrong, they are beyond reproach! How dare you insinuate such?! You must be the liar, then!" (Etc, etc, ad infinitum) This is known as belligerent denial. I have not yet found a sufficient means of smashing that wall of denial and forcing folks to look at the truth, and without some "positive empirical proof", some "concrete evidence" that cannot by its very existence be doubted, I know no way yet of freeing humanity. I still keep on searching. Deep within there must be the answer I seek.
There has to be a way to smack even the most belligerent delusional mind awake. When I find it, all will know.
It's hard, exceedingly so, not to become jaded. It's hard not to get angry, anger born of frustration, frustration at the seemingly dimwitted examples of sheeple who aimlessly roam thru life, sometimes speaking opinions which are not truly their own, but rather are what they have been told to believe by some "authority" figure or another. It's difficult to make myself understand that it mostly isn't their fault, (bless em) that they have been manipulated by outside forces mind-fucking them. To try and get thru to them is like nailing jello to a tree. {Goddamn sonofabitch! I coulda fucked a mule!}
I try just to make my peace with The All That Is, simultaneously judging myself harshly for judging others. I tell myself that everyone and everything is Divine and Sovereign, even those bastards that I hate. It ain't easy carrying this sack of rocks on my back.
If I had a woman to share my burden, but no. None of them ever quite understood. It was always fun for awhile, getting some pussy, but then the arguments would ensue. Who can be expected to understand the mind and the heart and the soul of a crazy person? So I carry this sack of rocks alone.
Maybe one day that big black triangle will return, with the cute blonde who speaks to my soul with her eyes. Maybe she will come and take me away with her.
I know there is a purpose to it all. There has to be.
Fuck, fuckedy fuck fuck.
Anyone with even the slightest bit of awareness knows there is something wrong. Humanity was not meant to be what it has become. There is some force pushing us in the wrong direction.
Call it what you will, its existence cannot be denied, except by idiots and the brainwashed. Leaders of nations and leaders of religions do not have the best interest of humanity or our home at heart, rather they are interested in manipulation and exploitation for their own selfish ends. This percolates down to the common man via the programming and conditioning of his mind from early childhood. People are taught to be greedy, self-centered consumers, useless eaters keeping the big machine running for the benefit of the 1%, livestock and draft animals in abject servitude to the illuminati masters. In order to break the vicious cycle and break free, one must first become aware of what is happening around them. Then they must pass this knowledge on to others.
The more who become aware, the closer we get to the overthrow of the overlords. You can choose instead to deny the truth, even as it stands before you smacking you in the face, and to go on about your delusions. That is unfortunate, but the programming is hard to undo. Throughout history there have been those who try to break the chains, unlock the cages, and set humanity free... Most of them are killed in a violent manner, often by those whose freedom they are trying to achieve, because the programmed minds are unwilling or unable to admit the truth to themselves. This is where pride gets in the way, saying, "I'm not an idiot! I couldn't possibly get swindled into believing lies! My church/government/teachers/etc. would never steer me wrong, they are beyond reproach! How dare you insinuate such?! You must be the liar, then!" (Etc, etc, ad infinitum) This is known as belligerent denial. I have not yet found a sufficient means of smashing that wall of denial and forcing folks to look at the truth, and without some "positive empirical proof", some "concrete evidence" that cannot by its very existence be doubted, I know no way yet of freeing humanity. I still keep on searching. Deep within there must be the answer I seek.
There has to be a way to smack even the most belligerent delusional mind awake. When I find it, all will know.
It's hard, exceedingly so, not to become jaded. It's hard not to get angry, anger born of frustration, frustration at the seemingly dimwitted examples of sheeple who aimlessly roam thru life, sometimes speaking opinions which are not truly their own, but rather are what they have been told to believe by some "authority" figure or another. It's difficult to make myself understand that it mostly isn't their fault, (bless em) that they have been manipulated by outside forces mind-fucking them. To try and get thru to them is like nailing jello to a tree. {Goddamn sonofabitch! I coulda fucked a mule!}
I try just to make my peace with The All That Is, simultaneously judging myself harshly for judging others. I tell myself that everyone and everything is Divine and Sovereign, even those bastards that I hate. It ain't easy carrying this sack of rocks on my back.
If I had a woman to share my burden, but no. None of them ever quite understood. It was always fun for awhile, getting some pussy, but then the arguments would ensue. Who can be expected to understand the mind and the heart and the soul of a crazy person? So I carry this sack of rocks alone.
Maybe one day that big black triangle will return, with the cute blonde who speaks to my soul with her eyes. Maybe she will come and take me away with her.
I know there is a purpose to it all. There has to be.
Fuck, fuckedy fuck fuck.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Muckin Puckin Motherfuckin Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Howdy. Greetings. Salutations. Hello.
It's been a minute. It is what it is.
When I was twenty, I never suspected that at forty eight I'd be an old, grey-haired, cigar-chomping, miserable fuck. Yeah. But here I be. ...in the blogosphere, as it were. Yeah.
So, what are they doing down in the tunnels? I don't mean subway tunnels under any given city, either, and I don't mean highway tunnels either. And when I say they, I mean they, them, the hidden ones, etc. You know to whom I refer. Mount Shasta, CA and Dulce, NM... Area 51... Yeah.
The network of tunnels is vast, if what I have been able to investigate is any indication of surface-scratching. In fact, it's possible that our Mother is not what she appears to be, she may not be a naturally occurring planet at all, but a manufactured one, in essence, a spaceship. Like the Death Star. And our Moon as well. So what I ask is, who resides inside? What are those little grey anthropomorphic things with the big wraparound eyes? People use the word "alien" to describe them, but I don't think that is entirely accurate, is it? The word alien means not from here, from elsewhere, so it could be correct if they are from another planet, or another dimension, or another time. But what if they are from here? What if they live underground, like mole men? It could explain the pasty complexion and the large eyes. What if they were here before we were? Maybe the gods created them first, to live in tunnels underground, and mine minerals.... Then they created us to live on the surface and, I don't know, herd aminals maybe, or something else. Maybe to be the guardians or caretakers of the surface, or to be visible for other races to observe, as opposed to the hidden. Maybe they created man with the intent of creating a being which is capable of transporting their essence, an avatar thru which they could interface with this world. But something went awry... Something... A fault in the system, a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the program... Somehow we became sentient on our own, capable of reason, capable of our own volition, our own freewill.
I don't know, man. There are so many unanswered questions, so many variables, so many unknowns.
Find x. For 1 to 1gulptillion, x=ae/y ~ EADGBE ;; DADGAD ;; EIEIO (and sometimes w) so find the motherfucker, I triple dog dare you! And.... yeah. There it isn't. Good cigar, though.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, meaning it doesn't have any weed in it. Maybe tomorrow they'll legalize recreational marijuana consumption nationwide, in which case, a whole nother variable is introduced, and whence hereupon my cigars may contain more than just tobacco, but for this moment, yeah.
Here's a little random video clip:
Irregardless of what a cartoon character may or may not like, It's gotten into the American vulgate and it's a whole nother thing to think you can just make it go away all of the sudden like. Actually, in all actuality, I could care less about it. I could also care more, however, I don't. Webspeak, lolspeak, txtese, and ebonics have all worked their way into the everyday vulgate, which means the language of the people, regular folks, as opposed to suit-wearing yuppy fucks, or English teachers, or other hoity-toity types who walk around with their noses in the air, acting as though their shit doesn't stink. Some of it is just silly, and some of it sounds retarded, such as 'axe' for ask, or the improper usage of there, their, and they're, or your and you're, where, were, and we're, etc. But it's just a reflection of the substandard "education" rampant among products of the regimented, institutional brainwashing and conditioning machine (AKA public school system) in this country. {And presumably in others as well.}
I dropped out of high school in 1982 because I was sick of the rules and the regimented nature of the system. (The scene from Pink Floyd's The Wall with the kids marching into the grinder and coming out as worms comes immediately to mind.) And I had my GED in my hand before my class graduated. I aced a college English class afterward, so I obviously know the proper English, though I choose to use regular construction-site vernacular in my everyday speech, peppered with fuck, motherfuck, shit, goddamn, sumbitch, and other colorful words and phrases, because I feel comfortable speaking that way, and because I can. [Sticks out tongue and thumbs nose at society]
Television is mind-numbing drivel, designed to distract the sheeple from observing the world around them. I suggest reading books. Aldous Huxley's Brave New World is a good place to start.
Peace, y'all.
It's been a minute. It is what it is.
When I was twenty, I never suspected that at forty eight I'd be an old, grey-haired, cigar-chomping, miserable fuck. Yeah. But here I be. ...in the blogosphere, as it were. Yeah.
So, what are they doing down in the tunnels? I don't mean subway tunnels under any given city, either, and I don't mean highway tunnels either. And when I say they, I mean they, them, the hidden ones, etc. You know to whom I refer. Mount Shasta, CA and Dulce, NM... Area 51... Yeah.
The network of tunnels is vast, if what I have been able to investigate is any indication of surface-scratching. In fact, it's possible that our Mother is not what she appears to be, she may not be a naturally occurring planet at all, but a manufactured one, in essence, a spaceship. Like the Death Star. And our Moon as well. So what I ask is, who resides inside? What are those little grey anthropomorphic things with the big wraparound eyes? People use the word "alien" to describe them, but I don't think that is entirely accurate, is it? The word alien means not from here, from elsewhere, so it could be correct if they are from another planet, or another dimension, or another time. But what if they are from here? What if they live underground, like mole men? It could explain the pasty complexion and the large eyes. What if they were here before we were? Maybe the gods created them first, to live in tunnels underground, and mine minerals.... Then they created us to live on the surface and, I don't know, herd aminals maybe, or something else. Maybe to be the guardians or caretakers of the surface, or to be visible for other races to observe, as opposed to the hidden. Maybe they created man with the intent of creating a being which is capable of transporting their essence, an avatar thru which they could interface with this world. But something went awry... Something... A fault in the system, a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the program... Somehow we became sentient on our own, capable of reason, capable of our own volition, our own freewill.
I don't know, man. There are so many unanswered questions, so many variables, so many unknowns.
Find x. For 1 to 1gulptillion, x=ae/y ~ EADGBE ;; DADGAD ;; EIEIO (and sometimes w) so find the motherfucker, I triple dog dare you! And.... yeah. There it isn't. Good cigar, though.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, meaning it doesn't have any weed in it. Maybe tomorrow they'll legalize recreational marijuana consumption nationwide, in which case, a whole nother variable is introduced, and whence hereupon my cigars may contain more than just tobacco, but for this moment, yeah.
Here's a little random video clip:
Irregardless of what a cartoon character may or may not like, It's gotten into the American vulgate and it's a whole nother thing to think you can just make it go away all of the sudden like. Actually, in all actuality, I could care less about it. I could also care more, however, I don't. Webspeak, lolspeak, txtese, and ebonics have all worked their way into the everyday vulgate, which means the language of the people, regular folks, as opposed to suit-wearing yuppy fucks, or English teachers, or other hoity-toity types who walk around with their noses in the air, acting as though their shit doesn't stink. Some of it is just silly, and some of it sounds retarded, such as 'axe' for ask, or the improper usage of there, their, and they're, or your and you're, where, were, and we're, etc. But it's just a reflection of the substandard "education" rampant among products of the regimented, institutional brainwashing and conditioning machine (AKA public school system) in this country. {And presumably in others as well.}
I dropped out of high school in 1982 because I was sick of the rules and the regimented nature of the system. (The scene from Pink Floyd's The Wall with the kids marching into the grinder and coming out as worms comes immediately to mind.) And I had my GED in my hand before my class graduated. I aced a college English class afterward, so I obviously know the proper English, though I choose to use regular construction-site vernacular in my everyday speech, peppered with fuck, motherfuck, shit, goddamn, sumbitch, and other colorful words and phrases, because I feel comfortable speaking that way, and because I can. [Sticks out tongue and thumbs nose at society]
Television is mind-numbing drivel, designed to distract the sheeple from observing the world around them. I suggest reading books. Aldous Huxley's Brave New World is a good place to start.
Peace, y'all.
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