T minus seven 2
T minus seven 2Stupid bowl sundae
And the fucking Packers are in it. fuck. My. life.
Fuck all our lives, actually. Hey, I’m spending my day in a room where people aren’t screaming at a television screen. I am far less offended by people zoning out into their own internet or homework machine than by the one-way hate-box.
I started a spreadsheet I called house. I wonder what that might be for… (/sarchasm)
Towns like this are torture chambers. That’s what the American dream is, a torture chamber. I refuse to enable these cruel addicted souls any longer.
All I’ve ever been is a property manager. I show up, and the current “guy in charge” takes a sigh of relief that someone who’s actually capable of making things run smoothly is there, but decides he doesn’t want to give up any of his power, least of all to this in-your-face sexless nihilist thug. It’s the only thing that matters. Fuck.
Without it, I won’t make a dollar.
So this house thing, the reason you want to calculate all this stuff is that when you have multiple homes on the anti-grid, putting more people together in one house may make more sense for multiple reasons. Some houses may go unheated for the winter. This does not mean unused. Once storage and matter intention are cleared, these spaces may come to life only during sunlight hours. So, you’re going to want to know whether the windows and/or skylights provide enough ambient light to operate during daylight hours.
It might make sense to find a ghost town and bring in “investors” who have been paying rent in an urban, semi-urban, suburban, or even other small towns. Why not? The means of decent human interaction are the same regardless of these things. Zero tolerance of criticism of others’ past, appearance, mannerisms, attractions, or “philosophical beliefs.” Full disclosure of tendencies to socially manipulate and/or control others: volume, harassment, physical or verbal confrontation.
Testing: we have a variety of tasks here, many of which are physical in nature. You’re not used to physical labor, most of you. And, many of you may not be suited to it just yet. So, on a schedule that will look something like: intake, any change, (eventual) regular interval, you will be run through an anti-judgmental battery of tests to determine placement, capability, and speed. Think of this as creating a multi-lane social and work environment where you’ll be surrounded by fewer “crazy drivers” going faster than you and fewer “idiots” going much slower than you. As far as I understand, non-judgmental and self-helpful “discrimination” on the basis of capability isn’t illegal, yet. Look, the smart, capable, and quick have been doing everything for the violent and lazy since forever. Credit where credit is due. Nobody’s survival will be in question. That is a right. The overarching idea here is that when we measure qualities of a social and verbal nature (happiness generation, mood enhancement, or some other “name”), we will discover that everyone contributes in different ways, and just because the stupid box presented you with the idea that certain “types” of people are worth less than your worthless business-owning ass, probably means it’s the opposite of true. That’s what you get from liars: the opposite of true. So, in another sense, they’re not even liars. They’re “polarity responders.” Unrelated giggles, etc.
How’s this gonna work in a real-world setting? For example, x1 comes home late, drunk, drops scarf on floor. X2, not knowing scarf’s owner, removes it from the floor to the nearest transitory matter table. Camera overlooking the table allows internet user x3 to id scarf as belonging to x1, and the next person to move in the house, x4, moves scarf from table to x1’s shared matter storage cabinet. Where is it written that you must interact “socially” with the people who live near you? Sometimes that doesn’t work. So what? People can still share space and peacefully coexist if shared means of survival exist. The cruelest of you have made me realize that scheduling kitchen time is essential. For those who choose not to participate in group meals, alternate means of preparation should be scheduled. This does not preclude a systematic desire to understand why one would choose not to participate in group meals. Social exclusion is likely, and it is not the responsibility of the excluded to un-exclude themselves. The same goes for the capability testing. Just because someone is not physically capable does not mean understanding of their inability is avoided. No, just the opposite. The least healthy, the incapablest, sickest, most diseased are to be given first quality nutrition. People like me, the physically capable, the free and clear, will most likely live on scraps and trash. The purpose of this thing is universal survival, and implicit in that directive is health. We exist to make the not healthy, healthy. The healthy can contribute to this, and the unhealthy can “recruit” other unhealthy people as they themselves become healthier. The connection between your mood/sociability/kindness and your nutritional intake is far more closely connected than you have been led to believe. This structure creates a means for a purely positive, zero-ego environment. The earth shall feed us paradise.
National Geographic is as compromised as NPR. Yes, there is some “worthwhile” information, but the bulk is just corporate propaganda from the worst abusers. It gives you a warm fuzzy feeling related to the cruelest entities on the planet, and it marginalizes the poorest, the most sustainable, and the ancient knowledge. Pure. Fucking. Evil.
The fucking stupid bowl is next week? Why does nobody tell me any fucking thing? One more week of retarded football hell. Fuck.
The fucking site has a huge ad. Fuck that.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Super_Bowl_XLV is slightly less offensive. Oh look, Joe Buck’s soothing voice will do the play-by play. The list of corporate stooges willing to provide “music” for these hate-fests is getting shorter and shorter, eh? Seriously, corporate “entertainment,” you fucking suck.
What if teams win because of injuries? Think about it, the stars, the leaders, who are always (necessarily, I would think) beaten and battered by the end of the season. The up-and comers, seeing opportunity and having been included in the overall progression of seasonal wins, losses, successes and heartaches, are given full responsibility for their respective positions, rather than supervised substitution. How do you think people develop as people? With someone watching over them? No. Clear instructions and expectations, then self-determination/supervision. Nobody else can decide when and how a score can/will be achieved, so the individuals on the field must be fully reliant upon their own abilities to take advantage of instances of scrappiness. I’ve never played tackle football, but I’ve watched plenty of it, and I have been elbowed in the nose during a game of flag football, not that that really says anything. I am just as capable of pontificating as a fucking armchair quarterback as you assholes. Probably more so. Whatever. I don’t waste my time with inane statistics unrelated to any tangible matters of importance. Fuck corporate distractions. Fuck ‘em.
Social phenomenon, whatever. Treat me like a god or they treat me like a leper. All within the space of a few minutes. Fuck. Your. Hate. Every time you hit me with that shit, I will cut you off. Permanently. Repair your fucking aura, dickhead. Quit spewing hate, quit consuming hate, and replace it with some fucking nutrition before I am forced to remove your impediment selves from the equation. I’m tired of this shit. I have been busting my ass permanently since the day I was born and you are nothing but hatred, fear, and self-loathing scorn. Fuck your colors, fuck your flags, fuck your borders, and fuck your gags. Fuck your in-capabilities and your boundless fears, fuck your fat poison spewing faces and your fat poison-spewing rears (p.s. best. username. ever.).
Fuck. Your. Hope. Lessness. Fuck your hierarchical programming. Fuck the isolation of your advertisement spamming. Fuck your ugliness away, fuck your depressive fearful hiding, come out from behind the poison shields for which you’re vying. Fuck any bank that is not YOUR OWN, and fuck transfers of meaningless data that say your home ain’t YOUR HOME.
I just removed this from my couchsurfing profile:
“Currently, it’s in a 3-bedroom house in the middle of a huge potato field about 15 minutes/miles outside of the teeming metropolis of Stevens Point, WI. I have one cat, but dogs are great, too. I do not smoke, but I don’t mind if you do (outside, tho…). Around me, there are fields and woods and country roads. Without a car, staying here wouldn’t be too convenient.
My schedule is constantly in flux. I don’t have permanent or long-term employment, and work appears with little notice. If available, I can show you around, but it would be better if you’re mostly self-sufficient.”
Hey, fun, a mild panic attack. I haven’t had one of those since, oh, right before the last time I smoked.
Ok, so the situation with my house right now, I should explain that to you:
I moved in with the belief that the property and people involved were moving towards a cooperative housing venture. Shortly after meeting and discussing such ends, I learned that such was not feasible. Those on the lease were incapable of managing or sharing responsibilities or even recordkeeping, and were dismissive of anyone else’s input. I paid an initial $200 in September when I moved in, $600 (for October, November, and December) on October 6th, and $214 on January 14th and 29th of 2011. My roommate, (Female, 24), whom I have informed of these payments, has lied to my roommates about what I have contributed to the house, including meeting with them without telling me so as to convey these lies. On January 6th, 2011, in the early evening, as I attempted to heat up some leftovers, my roommate again (though violently this time) accused me of non-payment and harshly criticized the use of my time and me personally. She screamed “GET THE FUCK OUT” and threatened to move my belongings to the curb, all at a time when a) it was freezing outside and b) I was only 6 days late with rent. Then, the next time I came home (only because it’s the only warm place I have available for me to sleep), another roommate and long-term resident of the house, informed me that she had also falsely accused me of threatening her. I did my best to convey the truth of the matter to him, but he has been friends with her for longer than me, so he seemed skeptical. I feel betrayed, lied to, and lost. Two other roommates have since moved out of the house (the closest ones to “my friends” living in the house, no less), and the only eye contact with her that I have experienced (2 occasions, one shortly after the incident and yesterday upon return from working at my fathers’) has been greeted with looks of hate and disgust. I don’t even know why she’s angry with me any more. I just feel like she is ready to explode in screams or hit me. I lock my door and don’t use the kitchen. If I had anywhere else to go, I would go there. I believe all of her actions to be bullying, verbal abuse, and if push comes to shove, domestic violence.
Please stop lying to people about me. It was you who threatened me, and there are witnesses of this having occurred. I have been upfront about my payments and ability or inability to pay, and I have felt like I was not allowed to use the facilities (for a few months now) of the house in which I have been paying legal rent (since September 2010). I will continue to stay out of the house as much as feasible during waking hours, and I will gladly meet with you if you publicly apologize for lying about me and my actions, and about threatening me. Please refrain from unsupervised verbal communication with me, or I will take legal actions to prevent you from assaulting me again. I have no interest in inflicting harm upon you, I just want to get out of your way.
New topic. I checked in with twitter, ended up star-fucking a girl I just started following, and I ran across this tweet I thought was funny. Well, the video is funnier. Maybe.
More from home, later, perhaps. (editor’s note: nope)
Fucksticks. It’s mall time, more house programmies. Mall logic and spaces shall be worked in here, too.
Merchants currently on display:
Dancer (DVDs), Musician (CDs), sculptor, genius. Pay what you can.
Why pay what you can? Well, because you can’t afford me. If you have to ask, infinite dollars per nanosecond. So, all of ‘em, immediately. It’s a steep price to pay, but I think you’ll find it’s worth every penny, tuppance, shilling, peso, like you got yen. Oh, you actually have yen. Cool.
I’m gonna go program more. This mall got me feelin’ all property-managey. Claire’s emptied out, too. I laughed. The smell of coconut oil (took me a second there) was overpowering, and still hangs heavy in the air. It might be comforting if my hands weren’t so cold. You really think they keep a nearly abandoned mall as warm as a fully active shopping center during holy day consuming hours? They do not. My sunroof gots snow on it. Kewl patternz. Pics mebbe? Codes, more likely. You can tell I’m not clear on my end product by my procrastination. That, or I just like talking during pterodactyl. I got a vimeo account just so’s I could download theyze vids for the songs. December may be my current all-time favorite. Yes, current all-time.
K. coding. B-bak lateski’s (10:50 am)
No, you haven’t been trained on the compost toilet yet. Go to the clean-water fouler. First things first, and your aggressiveness is the first thing that has to go. You don’t move the conversation forward, at all, ever. What, exactly, do you think those who hear you gain from hearing you say what you say? Over, and over, and over, and over.
Back to the calculator, I guess (10:57 am)
Well, it’s 11:33, and things are progressing nicely. Static, active, means, ends. I dunno, It’s always all draft. Rough. Sloppy copy. Brain. Storm.
Post bathroom, it’s brunch of champyonz (birdseed spiced water). Yummers. It’s because I can eat in here without hassles that I eat in here without hassles. You try eating a pre-packed lunch at a library, a coffee shop, or a bar where you didn’t buy anything. It doesn’t work. Without “the cash,” you’re not an acceptable human being. This is why I squat my office/coop in abandoned malls and whatnot.
The nice lady who watched my office whilst I peed just gave me a Point Journal, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and USA Tadae! Paper shredding time!
Quote atop front page picture, of the president of the local catholic school: “There’s more peer learning going on. It’s helping the students take more responsibility for their own learning.” Translation: these fucking kids show up knowing more than anyone who works for my organization, so it’s all we can do just to keep them busily occupied enough to bother to show up. The kids and parents in the picture seem quite impressed by the trophy at the front of the room.
Abortion thinkers are out in full force. “Hundreds pray for end to abortion at [free ad].” Ladies and gentlemen, you are pathetic, shameful, and a bunch of crybaby wallowers. Get a fucking life.
Oh, hey, I heard on the radio (I’m really really gonna miss the 90 more than anything else in this town, by the by) that Gooberner Incorporated is spending your tax dollars to change the lights on the capitol (my ex and I had an argument about those once. She liked verbally fighting. We were in law school, duh. Of course I don’t remember which side I was on [though it probably didn’t involve light pollution]), and I have grown to despise the NFL along with other corporate distractions, so I’m still in favor of kicking all those politicians, thugs, liars, and cash addicts out of that building and putting it to use for the people. Our Madison will be nearly dark at night. We will see the stars once again.
You. Fucking. Asshole. He’s selling out his employees already. “To hell with the unions” he goes, and all the republican lawmakers start sucking each others’ dicks. Fuck. Your. World.
P. 7A: For Sale: Investors Community Bank, stock $110/share (100 share minimum) and a phone number. They’re calling for $11,000 or more, investments. In a bank.
Milwaukee paper, p. 8C,
“[free ad] answers beef with humor”
The executive quoted in the article said he wasn’t a food scientist but that every ingredient was “in there for a purpose.”
Poison is the purpose of all corporate foods, you fucking brain dead retard poison addicts.
(then from the “Today” pile of “words”)
Headline on p. 3A, “[free ad], other service groups fight decline”
From Story: “We’re not a secret society,” […] says. “We’re a society with a few secrets.”
Same secrets as the church probably. Keeping the rapists, murderers, thieves, and psycopaths safe from the peace-loving people of earth. Why else do you think they keep secrets? Criminals, all. By definition. Conspiracy. Admitted, right here in black & white. It’s an exclusive, exclusionary network, you fucking asshole. That’s what makes it conspiratorial, you fucking shithead. This paper is all, only evil adverts.
9A: “A pillar of [free ad]’s legacy: [free ad].”
The FDIC took over another WI bank, Evergreen State Bank, Stoughton. $22.8 mil fail.
I just now noticed that the section of [ad] that is called “life” has to do with tv, movies, celebrities, and other brain-dead propaganda programming. What a crock. Fuck. Your. World.
It’s 12:58 pm, and I am cold. I’m done eating, so I could head to the library. I am itching for the surf, too. Plus, the cute girls at the other end of this line of six tables have left, again. Different ones, but yeah. There will be more at the library. Always are.
Another potential lead from Wikipedia: Marshfield Clinic
“Marshfield Clinic Laboratories is a system of laboratories that employs more than 450 people and performs more than 20 million tests annually. In addition to human medicine, it has established separate service lines for forensic toxicology, food safety and veterinary diagnostics. In 2003, Marshfield Clinic Laboratories diagnosed the first case of human monkeypox in the Western Hemisphere.”
There’s a dude plowing the sidewalks with a little john deere lawn tractor with a blade on the front. Second biker of the day just went by, too. Both look like fun, but it’s fucking cold out there. He got caught up on the uneven sidewalk.
I’m hungry. I wonder if there’s somewhere I can go get something to eat. The library’s open for another 5 hours, but I don’t want to stay here for that long. I don’t want to stay anywhere, ever. That’s just because nobody’s ever wanted or needed me.
Look, you can tell me that’s not true, that I should be positive or whatever. People don’t like having me around. I say things that make people uncomfortable, things that have to be said because people ignore reality. I can’t help that you hate me for this. I just can’t. Nor can I be someone else.
If I had friends, they wouldn’t watch tv all the time. If I had friends they wouldn’t be scared of sex or talking about sex. If I had friends they wouldn’t lie to me about anything.
It’s all used up. Whatever goodwill was left for this town, or from this town. It’s not as if I have any anywhere else. God, I’m fucking hungry. Why am I so fucking hungry after not eating anything for five hours? I must be getting old. I have bean/rice stew at home, plus beer.
I must be done for today. I’m blank.