Saturday 19 December 2015

Random Brain-Dump

Keoni Galt over at Hawai'ian Libertarian has been going great guns over the last month with his observations on the world:

Remember the Reason for the $ea$on
The Illusion of Choice aka DuhMockRuh$€¥
Programmed Obsession With Evil

Satan bought my soul for 10¢ on the dollar. Maybe if I was a better person, he would have paid 20¢. There are times when I wonder.
I'm supposed to care about money. I'm supposed to take corporate cock up the ass while singing the National Anthem.


The stress and the bullshit take over, and your soul is poisoned forever. The dream vanishes. Only the lifestyle remains.

You spend half your life being bored as shit about your job, the other half talking about how interesting it is. Yak yak yak for 12 hours a day.

If you get some clarity, you start sweeping away the ashes and make something more meaningful to you. Fuck everyone else.
Money is no object. You are an object.

You might hate feeling crazy. Unfortunately, your job depends on it. Sanity would make you pull a gun and do something about it.

So you walk around, looking busy, handing out your business card - too busy to notice the cock up your ass.
Satan's wet dreams don't have people in them.

Much of the wastelands of the interwebs, out here, is nothing more than an insane rant. Then someone writes it up in a book. The subject, the subset, of an insane rant.

"I rote this! Pay me $$$! On your knees and suck Satan's cock! Swallow! You know you love it! I am your GURU!! YOU WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME AND SUCK MY COCK AND WORSHIP ME!!!1!"

Then it all goes onto next year's ash pile of indifference.

An endless cycle of meaningless consumerism.

Do some of these do it for the money, or just to be a fuckin' asshole?
The PUA.

"Y'know, I'm kinda bored, kinda lonely and kinda drunk - but I wouldn't mind fucking you."

"Wow, I think you're an amazing person and would love to get to know you better."

The latter is a tarted up version of the former.

So I hurt you? Too bad. I was just taking the Temporary Boredom Cure™.
Any blog.


Yeah, stroke it harder, kiddo.


"I want a man who's tall, dark, handsome, young, great with kids, absolutely loves me to bits, gives me heaps of time and attention, and oh he needs to make six figures."

The divorce.

The doublethink.

Fuckin' amusing.

How else can a man make $150k a year and still somehow be made to feel like a loser? And all of female society agrees?

Get so drunk and hungover that you puke.

Ram your head into a wall and then puke.

There's a difference?

Oh. Yes. The second is cheaper.

So much alcohol in your blood. To have another drink, just open a vein and suck on it.
The walk of shame (that they're trying to change to the Strut of the Slut™).

As she limps home.

As she walks funny.

Are there moments of clarity?

Is there a moment where she realizes, where she decides, that God has made a friend?

Chances are she'll always be the hypocritical born-again type.
Her: "Why do you like me?"

Him: "Start with your vagina and work backwards."
Is there someone out there more alive than I am?

I haven't met them in person yet.

Another drunk who's better than me: "Unlike you, I've seen life! *hic*"
There comes a point of not giving a damn.

Freedom in it's way.

I have no time for this crap.

I'm glad. It keeps some types out of my life.
Do I look fat in this?

You only look fat when you're naked.

Are you bikini bod ready?

And she's thinking: "I am so utterly fucked..."
You know why 90% of the internet is crap.

Because 90% of what people say is crap.
The cry of the PUA.

You are not important.

You sleeping with me is important.

Rinse. Repeat.
So she's crying in her whine.

"I got a facelift. I got plastic surgery. A boob job. A butt job. I tone up 6 hours a day. All to look younger for HIM! So what happens? He divorces me and starts fucking a teenage girl young enough to be our daughter."

Like I give a damn. Go buy yourself some blue cheese to go with that.
So I should say something scathing about the idiot's with big houses, corporate jobs, etc.

Aren't I the fucking clever one?
PUAs. Women.

Eventually you start to get the feeling that she'd still be a pain in the ass - even if she wasn't insane.

Fifty shades of shit. The Story of O.

Yanking her hair. Smacking her ass. Tying her up. Putting a gag in her mouth. (Though the last one is pure mental self-defense.)

You seduce a psycho woman with great care: "So...if I agree to beat you up, will you go out with me?"

You do this voluntarily?
Having a conversation.


Other than your pathetic little problems, what else are you interested in?
So we embrace reality.

Then we meet an asshole like you.

Every time.

Too many cats.

Not enough cock.

It's not a relationship. It's a mercy-fuck.

"I love you so much, I want to make a trophy out of you."

On to the next trophy.

Being a single, middle-aged barfly is where it's at, babe.
Living in a world where the exceptional is sacrificed to the bland.

I don't know what's exceptional any more.

Do I want to be exceptional? Or do I want to do things that I enjoy?

The point where it all changes. And something moves smoother.
Eco-warriors. Eco-fucktards.

Social justice warriors. Social justice fucktards.

The razor-edge of difference.
Narcissism. The Dark Triad. The Deadly Sins.

"I'm so fucking cool, even my ex's are in awe of me!"

So we should give him/her the time of day.

Heh. Heh. Heh.
The Hangover. (The movie.)

"Hi mom and dad. I'm in Vegas, I'm really drunk, and I just got married to Jade, who's a stripper and I really love... *BEEEEP*"
You've lived for 50 years.

You've dated for 35 years.

You've been married for 10 years.

You've been divorced for 5 years.

And you still have the delusion that it's actually possible to like other people.
You're not getting fucked up the ass enough.

Time to get a job in the film industry.
She just wanted to be in the movies.

She got what she wanted.

Her stage name: Belle Starr.

She should have specified what kind of movies...
Life came along and broke him like a twig. He whines about it. Scream at the God who made you. Alright for Him, on His perch.

God promised Men that there would be good wives to be found at all corners of the Earth. Then He made the world round, and He laughed and laughed and laughed...
"We worked out for the best," she said.

The words of every lying cunt on the divorce-train.

Her dream. To be living a fabulous life.

Yeah, right. You're 50 kid.

Do those ashes of dreams still stir?
The streets have a name.

Most people are too well-mannered to speak it.
Society's idea of happiness.

When a celebrity's life goes to shit.

Then they get paid to spread their dirty laundry in the news.

The pain. The pain. The pain. What's your number? The pain.

Round and round again.

I don't need a lot to be happy. Just enough to pay the rent and enjoy a beer with my friends. I don't think that's asking for too much...




  1. Many thanks for the linkage....but if reading my blog contributes to posts like this that seem to indicate you're drowning in cynicism and nihilism , may I suggest you take off the crap colored glasses once in awhile and actively seek out the beauty in your life.... jus sayin. :-)

    Merry Christmas BPS!

    1. Christmas does tend to bring out the worst in me. I become extremely jaded and cynical at the endless marketing. Is why I haven't posted much in your commentary. It would not be appropriate, most-times.

      Now, most of that up there I would normally look at and laugh at and throw it away. There might be a couple of posts in it, with a lot more fleshing out. Most of it's just crap spilling over from work. It's aggravating having to deal with the side-effects of incompetence for several hours a day.

      It's summertime in New Zealand. For Christmas I get to actually relax. For the New Year, I plan a trip to explore nature. It's almost like I don't know what to do with myself, first time in ten-twelve years of business that I've actually had the two holidays without something crazy going on in the wings.

      It is going to be relaxing, fun, and beautiful in it's way. It always is when I can get away from the masses of sheep for a while.

      Merry Christmas, Keoni. Or at the least, many well-wishings for your life and family, from this lapsed Roman Catholic and Awful Atheist on the bottom half of the world.

    2. Thanks for the heads-up, by the way. When you're lost in the garbage it's often hard to realize.