I need a bed on wheels.  I don’t ever want to sleep in the same place again for more than two weeks.  Those are the best relationships I’ve ever had, and I can teach anyone all that I know in less time than that.

Really.  I’m going to have to be rebranded before y’all accept me?  I can’t fucking believe this.  I was pretty sure that what this whole thing was about was speaking truth to power.  I control nothing.  It doesn’t fucking matter where I am, nobody gives a fuck.  I could scream my fool head off into an amplifier, and everyone would just go back to watching tv, because I would ask them to share their property.  Make you public.  Allow *gasp* strangers to sleep under your roof, touch the dirt that was once your lawn, and teach you how to crawl again, then walk, and then go as fast as you fucking want to.

Y’all don’t get it, do you.  These people, these rich assholes who run shit.  They’re the murderers, the worst of the lot, and they’re telling you to be afraid of the most gentle, sustainable people that are left on this planet, and putting fire-propelled metal in your hands and telling you that your brother is the one starving you.

Fuck, what was I here for?  Oh, right.  Specs.

My home should sleep six.  That’s me and my five girlfriends.  It will be a self-contained, multi-fuel survival home.  Using ONLY suppressed technology, it will run using water, compressed air, biofuels, vegetable oils, kinetic human input, or zero point energy.  I suspect the base will be electric in the first version, but once we get the custom shops competing for overproduction capability (growing food, processing food, cooking/baking food, distributing food, sharing DIY tools/expertise/designs), a silent purely kinetic flying bed will become my permanent home.  Icarus be damned!  I will live on sprouted hemp seeds and water from clouds.

This has got my panties all up in a bunch again.  This shit pisses me off.  All this technology, not made by experts or “the schooled,” but by tinkerers and do-gooders.  They defy the laws of physics, never mind that the laws of physics haven’t kept up with the laws of physics.  Proof is in the pudding.  Can we please start using sensible materials and quit with the fucking poisons already?  You’re not kidding anyone with this “we’re not evil” shit.  By definition, you, dear for-profit entity, are evil.  So, become something else.  Put together a task force of me to rewrite your rules, and I will get everyone to agree.  I’m dead fucking serious.  I will get the hardline communist business-person in china to agree with the cop in Moscow to agree with the homeless “crazy” genius woman on the streets of Sydney.  The farmers around the world are in agreement.  The teachers around the world, despite the lies they’ve been passing along, are in agreement.  It is up to you, dear landowner, dear toolsmith, dear electric tinkerer, dear gardener, dear greasemonkey and oh dearest of drunks.  You must lay down your own authority, which this system has granted you.  Those of us with none can do no more.

On “liking”: 1) like the article, not necessarily the event 2) think of it as creating a link, a database entry which associates you with the object. 3) so. what.  This is a way I can stick stuff I think you should see in front of your eyes.  You don’t like it?  Go away.  Defriend.  You don’t talk to me in real life, and I’m not collecting strangers.  I’m timelessly harsh, impatient, an information junkie.  Get off my fucking internet if you don’t want truth, whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  If I hurt you, alert me, because I have no animosity towards anyone.  I want this planet to be winning.  As a planet.  You’re all fucking here now, every color (as if that ever mattered), every belief, and every dogma.  You’re a bunch of petty little haters, addicted to shit.

So I was reading about social rejection and social isolation just now, and thinking, this honestly is my entire life.  Even within organizations, I become the outsider, if it is possible to be one.  I’m an acute phase sex addict.  How can one be addicted to the reproductive act?  Well, contort it into a cash/lie-based social construct and replace its absence with freely available highly superior orgasm-inducers.  Who the fuck needs friends when you have good porn?  Seriously, you people don’t fuck enough.  My opinion is far from humble.  In my brash, over-spoken opinion, you fucking prudes don’t get naked with one another nearly as often as your human fucking health would seem to require.  Maybe it’s just me.

My blog, rulz. Just sayin’.

You don’t deserve this one either, but I’m posting it anyway.

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-03-15 (Tuesday).

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