Free sex!

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here. (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” – QOTSA – the quick and the pointless)

It’s really a shame none of you will treat me like a human being.  You miss out on so much good stuff!  Seriously, the blogs I don’t post here are more fucked up and hilarious than I ever imagined could come out of my mouth/fingers/computer/brain.  The dancing?  That melts me.  I am the sole witness to the world’s greatest dancer, the most easily bored person that ever lived, and it still melts me.  What do you ignoring assholes get to see of any of this?  Not a fucking thing.  That’s exactly what you deserve.

So I just spent a few minutes looking up “deserve,” which found me a definition and a list of Wikipedia-listed songs and albums with the word “deserve” in the title.  Rockin.  Then, I found out about this party.  I’m in!  I started my own “party” years ago.  I told all my friends about it.  I’m still the only person who knows it exists.  Anyway, it’s the PHLY party.  People wHo Love You.  It’s another one of them social inclusion things.  You’re all exclusive, “Adamantium Club Members” er whatever.  And, by being members, y’all are required to love everyone.  It’s like a rule.  As most of “my” “rules,” it’s for your personal immediate-and-long-term benefit.  Otherwise, do whatever harmful thing to yourself you want.  Or to me, for that matter.  I don’t fucking care.  I’m going to be right here doing exactly what I’ve done for my entire pathetic life.  Guess who gets to change now?  All of the rest of you.  Every last one of you has to quit being a lazy fuckhead.  God, I hate you.

So anyway, yeah.  Those of you who assist my disturbingly fucked up ass know all of this, have seen all of this, blah blah, or right, again we’re back to the me, myself, and eye.  Everybody’s got something to hide except for me and my monkey.  I got like a barrel of monkeys, sitting, jumping, and biting on my shoulders.  ‘Cept they’re flying monkeys, so they send me on little vacations occasionally, too.

As in this past weekend.  Fellow poor person X took pity upon me (he’s cooler than that, I just hate me), and having had the first choice cancel, allowed me to join/disrupt/ruin the trip.  I have a very low opinion of my effects on the world, my capabilities, and how others view me.  Read the rest of my shit online and see if you think I’ve a) ever had real “friends” or b) have any chance of having “friends” once that shit is burned into the collective consciousness.  No, fuck all of you.  You have spent my entire life telling me how smart I am, how nice I am, how I should have an easier time than I claim to, yet what do you actually do?  You do the opposite of what I say.  You tease.  You ignore.  You mock.  You chatter like al qaeda, in person and into the physical wires of authority.  It’s like you’re trying to run up a hill of corn that’s expanding from the top.  But you keep sinking.  What was my point?  Oh yeah, went to a kick-ass show in Chi-town this weekend.  ASS, tee hee.  Windy-city ASS.  It was a seated show, but I still chair-danced my ass off (apolo-geez to those poor people with the bleeding eyeballs seated behind me!  And, prolly, to the decent folks I forget occasionally treat me like fam’lay).  In deed.  I (totally mean to)add/ed them to my “influences” on my band page, along with other “bands” I’ve spoken to in person.  I prolly missed a few, but these ones stuck out.  This is about as name-droppy as I get (editor’s note: total lie).  I should probably get to the orders, eh?

Community leaders, heads of household, government officials, members of the remaining industrial economy, construction, “food” production/service, (frighteningly selective) law “enforcement,” teachers and students, professors and staff, prison guards and populations, everyone from farmers to developers, and every single “kid” within earshot, it’s time to start working as a team.  John Rawls (yep, citing the college philosophy “as it remembers it,” a method as reliable as … fuck.  Not rhythm, eyewitness.  Yeah, that’s the one.  Law school joke.  I’m the only one who will get all of the humor in here.  Plenty of it could probably be deciphered by the few women on this planet who have slept with me, or maybe by roommates, if they cared enough, had the time, or had any desire to know anything about me.  Scary.) said the proper mental exercise for how to treat other people (and I take this to mean socially, economically, and systematically) is to imagine that one could have ended up as any of the inhabitants on the planet.  Ok, me, for example, I was born to a couple of mid-70’s American post-college “freaks” who had, for the most part, been rejected by their families in one way or another.  They left the familiarity of their families and home towns, and they’ve been struggling to survive ever since.  Imagine if I had been born to an “indigenous tribe” of X region of X continent in a pre-invasion age where we comfortably relied-on/worked-with the land for sustenance.  Socialization was communal from the beginning, so particular quirks and scars of the biological parents were minimized by multiple examples of developed individuals.  Food was actual sustenance, not addictive poison sold to us by contracts.  It is only when one can actually visualize having been any person on the planet that we can ethically/fairly/rightly decide, for ourselves but also and perhaps mainly, for others, how resources are to be used and distributed.  You’re the king, go.  The post-planetary-unification ruler of earth.  You are the architect who writes the algorithm that will eventually spit out 42.  Take the weight, the actual physical reality of every human possibility and every ounce, ton, barrel, cubic mile, and cell of matter/reality/life.  If the solution pops lightly into your head, call/e-mail me asap.  We have work to do.  If your brain implodes from the whirring multi-faceted tangle of pointy, hurty things that you’ve been flung upon, I apologize.  I know the actual consensus of this method isn’t scheduled to be reached for a while yet, and I know many of you will simply bow out before allowing it, but those who follow… your kids and doppelgängers, whatever, have just been waiting for you to get out of the way.  It’s safe to stop fighting now.  I guess that’s my point.  Your voice is being heard.  Your rightness is verified by actual people.  Take a deep breath, and realize this is the one you’ve been waiting for.

Greenies, start preparing to think on a larger scale.  I want solar-powered, human-powered, electric, woodgas, and hydrogen vehicles all over the place, NOW!  Don’t convert one if you know how to do it, convert them all!  Set up a “contract” by which you receive payment for every dollar (on average) saved by use of the green technology, and do them for strangers when they’re not looking!  Nope, sorry ma’am, your car runs on water now.  Yeah, sir, I’m sorry, your box truck has a built in rain-barrel, solar water heater, and solar oven on it now, and it runs on zero point energy, so it never needs gas.  Mister, your bus didn’t even run before we installed a mechanical flywheel and bike propulsion system that allows 4-12 pedalers to take turns pedaling and playing music while we cruise the planet on tour.  We’ll help pay off your mortgage and student loans if we ever turn a “profit.”  We’ll arrange to have organic produce brought to you and yours.  We’ll bring an army of hippies, losers, fat-assed jerks, former lawyers and accountants, waitresses, web design people and bank tellers to turn your invasive, oil-sucking “lawn” into a lush permaculture forest that will feed you and your local ecosystems in perpetuity.  Labor gets 10/hr, access to at-cost everything, and totally free, open-source design, strategies, and planning tools.  Planners do it for free.  Managers do it for free.  “Team leaders” will fluctuate by daily ability and willingness to accept/steer collective responsibility.  Everyone, at one point or another, has to learn/plan/do every job.  No exceptions.  Well, then we have to design a wheelchair accessible potato shovel.  Alright, then, with the new method designed by 7-year-old Susie, we can quit buying propane altogether.  Experts are the problem, not the solution.  Experts are like attention, which excludes/hides/shuts/beats down all dissenting, non-expert opinions.  My people, PHLY people, are alive, awake, and aware (enthusiasm is optional).  You can know a lot, but if you ever demand “expert” fees, respect (over that of another), or pay, you’ll be busted down to private in a heartbeat.  I am setting up a system of non-heirarchical planetary management, but in order to do so, the last stage before level has me (and my “crew” if any ever sign on), elevated just enough above the rest of you to be able to see.  I am a tyrannical dictator of the likes this planet has never seen.  I am the child of revolutionaries razed by the machine, its blades shattered upon me (mind and body) at every turn.  I am the collective juggernaut of humanity, knowing its full existence with momentary nonverbal interaction.  I am the abused child of military dehumanization, the elephant in the room whose existence, when revealed, turns concrete into dust.

I am the unchallenged, undisputed ruler of planet earth.  Kiss my feet.  Touch my skin.  Celebrate my existence by healing yourself.  Go get laid.  Let me know when you’re ready for honesty.

With kindest sincerity, your pal,

Tyler Tavy Kelm Mertes
Dictator/CEO
LazyAssWasteoid Industries, LLC
lawleft@gmail.com

“fuck you”

p.s.  my online self will argue this point repeatedly, continually, etc., but the dictator is actually the kindest person we’ve ever met.  Just don’t push him, tell him what to do (unless it’s like, lick my pussy, stick it in, spend the night with me, etc.), or try to make him feel bad about his choice not to consume your poison.  He’s a sweetheart, really.  A sex-loving sweetheart.  I’m great with kids, I can cook, I don’t mind carrying heavy things or cleaning/organizing.  I can often fix computers, occasionally cars, and I like how you smell when you’re sweaty.  Do your hair however you want.  Wear whatever is comfortable, whenever.  Your desire to be with me is your best/most important quality.

p.p.s.  I just set up LAWtrade. It’s a first draft.  I also changed this shit and added some research links here.

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~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2010-05-26 (Wednesday).

One Response to “Free sex!”

  1. […] richer examples here, here, here.  search erv, […]

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