o’deer

oh deer

she felt where i was looking, and she asked me about it, by making my muscle under my arm tingle, right where a hunter would aim.  i told her i had hunted before, and she ran off, in a big of a huff, making noise and breaking a few branches.

esp with animals doesn’t have to be close up, but if you can see their facial expressions and catch subtleties of tail whips and blinks, it makes more sense.  most of ‘em seem to like me most of the time, or be willing to acknowledge me anyway.  ok, yeah, so they bolt.  animals are people, too.

I would rather the design be inclusive, complete, and well-implemented than ever speak to another person again for the rest of my life.

let’s rephrase that (next day, 12:08 PM):  I would rather the design be good than have any friends after the design process is finished.

  • my soul screams in agony.  i have a soul?  my soul sits silently, waiting patiently.
  • i’m an armored moshing elephant, in heat.
  • oh, science, you and your orbits.

do i need to mention that if you have a question for me, you can ask me, e-mail or twitter.  i should probably fix my twitter links on my website.  yeah, probably.

hey, hey, anyone who ever believed that google, a for-profit, public company, was ever “not evil,” you’re a fucking retard.  head-in-the-clouds, delusional zombie.  the reason corporations specify their “activity” as “any legal purpose” or any other non-specific wording, is so that they can continue with their destructive ways.  this is all they’re allowed to do.  free, clean food/information is not allowed on planet earth.  this is the primary policy which demands change before any others can be addressed.  for, indeed, any other policy change will be eventually reverted without digging this thing up by the root.

rocks can too dance.  they also help heat trees and clean air with their lichens.  do you have any idea how much cleaner the air gets when you enter an area with a bunch of lichen-covered rocks?  oh, sweetness.  you can’t help but be in a good mood in a place like that.

a few minor wording changes, and you might be half-way acceptable to a decent chunk of the population.  they still think i have to be mentioned on tv to be worth anything.  the tv is smarter than that.  fucking eDeportion is bullshit.  twitter jail is guarded by people.  the twitter stockades have many who will have your back, no matter who you are.  being forcibly immobilized for your beliefs is no reason to be tortured on top of it all.  you know, that’s what the machine does.  we are an indicator species.  we can feel the all.  we can hear and sense the all, and our power, safety, and numbers are increasing at increasing rates.

new bio: dictator of planet earth, 3rd dimension department.  tweets sporadically noon-8? CST, drunk tweets 8 pm -2 am. fairly regularly.

looky here, one of the last jobs i had was working for nuns.  one of their strict dress code rules was no shoes that made clicky sounds on floors.  i believe i happened to wear my big chunky dumpstered boots the same day the amazon i was completely infatuated with at the time wore clicky heels.  sinners.  i gave her my number, in traditional wasteoid non-response allowing style.  i think people think they can compartmentalize my insanity rather than just telling me their true feelings and then letting us get on with our lives.  fuck.  no, instead, i have a head full of unanswered questions, unrequited glances. plenty of stares.  that was your invite, sweets.  it’s a standing invitation.  i’m here.

this technique was developed over years of having close friends who would complain to me about not having/getting love, when i, the person sitting directly in front of them, wanted to hold them so desperately, all that was left was to get away.

these things happen, but they only happen after i leave.  black holes are like that.

i am in need of a guru.  you are a guru, asshole.  you are in need of an income.  customers?  ok, what if you got to be there while i was working.  i dunno, sitting across the table from me as i type?  you don’t think you’d get anything done with someone finger-pecking away qwertily right over yonder wouldn’t put you in a work-getting-done mood?  i don’t know how humans work.  i have this internal drive that is unstoppable.  the trick is getting it started.  you have to provide it with an adequate amount of work, and varied tasks that can be completed on top of each other.  concurrent projects.  i take a break on one as i do the monotonous routine of another.  i work out the plans for one while i’m actually doing the other.  then, i switch.  if you had a group of half-way intelligent people, allowed to work “under” me as a team, or as individuals, we would be able to accomplish many impossible feats.  no, you’re a load of crap.  it makes you so fucking cranky too.  fuck.  pop a tab, lardass.  quit plugging your cells with psychopathic pharmaceuticals!  clean.  dissolve.  steam, solubles.  see how some sugars cake up and harden.  further reasons to add plenty of water to the entire system regardless.  your stomach is like a little anaerobic digester.  add a little water to the organic matter that is mashed up and fed into the chamber.  pull whatever usefuls may be pulled off of it, and send the wastes out to be used by the external systems.

my college ex girl-friend wrote this.  the thought it raised in me was this: humans revert to cooperation with the most cooperative structure that they can find.  is it ironic that police departments and prisons and entire criminal justice systems have their own “inability to police their own” policies and secretive practices which inevitably lead to a downward cycle.  too much money passes beneath their noses, and too much responsibility and temptation is given to people who are ultimately under the orders of the warmongers, and the rulings of the lawmakers.  speaking of organizations that are incapable of policing themselves.  these places draw and secure the worst of the worst, and give them unlimited power.  supermax prisons around the globe are full of the true leadership potential of the planet, and they remain imprisoned there by petty, jealous, weak, and horrible people.  these are the gods of your television.

her fiction is so beautiful.  even some of the fluffy stuff she’s done is pretty entertaining.  that she has to work at a place called “the crime report” as a day job is, uhh, i couldn’t do it.  you couldn’t do any job, dork.  not true.  i’ve held numerous, if not temporary, positions at a variety of corporations, including fortune 500’s and small businesses.  some of these jobs i’ve held for UP TO A YEAR.  and this LazyAssWasteoid gig, we’re what? ten years?  i couldn’t focus on the negative things people did.  that Amish forgiveness thing where mentioning the original crime after the penalty has been imposed, that seem a more logical database of how things happen in real life.  if you dwell on the bad, that’s all you keep getting.  if you let people do what they know they have to do, they will give you beauty.  capitalism is a far more destructive gang than the crips, bloods, or any drug cartel could ever be.  if you disallow humans to feed/support themselves by growing their own food, nothing will be sustainable.  systematic sustainability is both exactly the same thing as “environmental” or “ecological” sustainability, and nearly the exact opposite.  environmental advocates have this notion of zero-contact, as if humans are only destructive in these places or roles.  wrong.  destructive humans are destructive.  most, yes MOST people would be able to interact perfectly healthfully with nature if they were given the foundations and knowledge of truth, rather than this constant stream of drama and lies.  i don’t know.  we’re some sort of uber-diy-wellness infrastructure.  how we communicate ideas is intricate.  how we survive?  thrive away.

poster:
Information Meeting: local cooperative housing project.  a cooperative permaculture venture, intended to put to use unused land, to convert dilapidated architecture into usable local food infrastructure, and a union of homeowners, craftspeople, businesspeople, and hobbyist homesteaders/farmers.

Examples of participation:

  • lawyer: help drawing up community land trust/cooperative participant agreement/land-lease purchase agreements/participant bankruptcies
  • banker: establishing baseline combinatory home loan structures for full-block/big-box/warehouse/field conversions, identification of “worthless” properties for improvement
  • accountant: calculating homeowner maintenance schedules
  • participant: garden worker, food processor, designer, assembler, laborer.  teacher, team leader, babysitter, dog walker, computer programmer.

we render all of you irrelevant.  we could do this whole thing by ourselves, with the most worthless piece of land you could imagine.  give me a slab of rock or an an uninsulated shell, and all the feral animals and discarded people that nobody wants to talk to or look at because they’re just too weird.  these are my family.  your rejects.

why does the mechanism not exist for any one person to want to meet people and be able to go to a place and have other people who want to meet people go there.  nobody wants to meet a people like me.  not true.  nobody wants to fuck a dick like you.  touché.  also, not true.  they just don’t want to have to deal with me being head-over-heels in love with them in real life.  that’s the worst torture one could imagine.  stop it already!  you can’t reprogram human interaction!  why, it needs to be reprogrammed.

layne is on my radio again.  she’s a beautiful genius.  i am a smelly mad scientist.  no, you’re a theoretician.  hypothesisizer?  whatever, drunken hornball.  we’re totally sober right now.  yes, totally.  as if you could even tell the difference, though.

do i have behavioral problems?  you are a behavioral problem.  am i, really?  chrome keeps crashing.  whatta hey?  oh, also, why, when you crash, do you hide the article that’s being displayed on my screen?  there has to be a better way.

in theunited states, educational institutions are seen as money-making ventures.  they cost money to attend, and require money for meaningful participation.  the means of attaining supplemental funding are cumbersome and dehumanizing.  i want to move toFinlandnow.  i wonder if i could combine this with my study of Swedish busses?  i don’t see why not.

in love with the crazies, loved by the sanish, madly desirous of finn, swede, and danish.

that’s knot garmentically correct. no?  i no.  one must read intent through words.

this whole society is compartmentalized and isolated.  the problem is the entire food infrastructure and information-delivery infrastructure.  you see, we really do have to change all of these things at the same time.  the reason these fat-heads viciously defend their own fatness is that they participate in this system which keeps themselves and their own kids fat and unhealthy.  to try to convince their own children to do something that they themselves have been unable to do is akin to asking them to eat their own words.  we all know they stick to oreos, words not having nearly enough sugar.  fuck you, fatties.  fuck your fat asses, fat heads, and ultra-uber-fat egos.  you fill yourselves with shit, which prevents your poor overstuffed body from being absorb anything healthful at all, whether it exists in your current poison-stream or not (typically, it doesn’t).

people that live on a healthy diet have nearly infinite energy compared to you lardass gluttons.  their weights shift by season.  not television season, you poisoned ape, but actual seasons of this planet’s revolution about the sun, water cycles, and growth cycles of plants that exist all around us.  you have to want to change all of this before anything will change.  all of it.

physical size is not necessarily telling of anything, but it is really telling of everything, from philosophy to spiritual awareness to ethics.  go ahead.  pack on the experts.  see if you can actually gain enough to become your own planet.  at your present pace, i don’t doubt it.  bubble people are so sad in their inability to think.  not to mention, insistent about being able to, regardless of ability.  aww.  that’s so cute that you think the shit streamed over your tv is “news” and not “scientifically-designed-propaganda/poison.”  your experts are petty tyrants, and your systems of education are prisons.  mother earth is the only teacher that matters, and any teacher worth its salt will tell you the same.  stories like this are fun and telling in that they show you which people are completely insane and should not be allowed to determine health content at all anywhere.  yes, they all have funding.  yes, they all have jobs.  they all work for the same bank, for there is only one bank.  those are the sides.  earth, bank.  pick one.  oh, i see you already have.  the gravity is strong with this one.  don’t hate yourself.  that’s not useful.  learn as much as you can and do what you can with available resources.  you want an inspirational story about someone who’s lost a hundred and twenty pounds?  it’s called thinking.  it’s called logic and personal experimentation, and it’s called exactly the opposite of what every expert has ever taught me anywhere in my entire life.  health, fatties.  want it.

http://www.disinfo.com/2011/08/monsanto-modified-corn-losing-bug-resistance/ lolled @ “i’m in everything”

the problem with Monsanto is the same problem inherent in all for-profit (and non-profit, for that matter) institutions.  they have contracts and customers.  these are the only entities they consider.  they have a legal department which spins their acts into legality, and shareholders and management that force synthetic expansion as they push outward with psychopathic drive, determination, and ethics.  they’re compartmentalized beyond logic, but right into the realm of cya (cover your ass) and dadt (don’t ask, don’t tell).  until communications infrastructure and the heads of these systems demand accuracy and truth in their activities, all of these databases, systems, and entities will continue to run the planet into the ground with an increasingly insidious.

another example from my radio just now.  this ad compaign.  first, it repeats and preserves this horrible, yet dying means of insult.  then, it confronts it with a different type of equally shallow insult.  a sexist one at that.  hey, i think Wanda Sykes is beautiful and hilarious, but this script is insidious and evil, as are most of the shit that the ad council produces.  short-sighted, small-minded, industry-participating people run the world, and it’s a cruel, harsh, competitive and hateful place because of this.  stick to the independent filmmakers.  “yeah baby, why? ain’t like he called us porch monkeys.”  the righteous anger of these actors bothers me (i’m also madly in love with Rosario Dawson since the first time i saw her, ever), but i love that Smith wrote this conversation.  then, in proper Socratic rhetoric, it’s randall who defends the old-timers.  “well listen to you. telling me i can’t do something because of the color of my skin.  you’re the racist.  i’m takin’ in back, you watch. […]  It’s cool, i’m taking it back.”

get over yourselves.  everyone has a hard life.  quit trying to keep these stupid old terms alive.  how do i know you’re trying to keep them alive?  when you flip out and scream at people who innocently use them without insult.  then, when people actually insult others without using harsh words, or using some more acceptable insults, you defend their actions as somehow not destructive.  this whole fucking planet is logically fucking retarded, and i can’t take it for another minute.  fucking a, fat boy.  let me cook for you.  i’ll have you down to fucking weight in no time.

i have to get everyone down to fucking weight.  otherwise, there will be nobody for me to have sex with.  models and actors who read cruel scripts of corporations are just as responsible for that content as the lawyers who vet it and the consumers who buy all that shit.  yeah, myself included.  i’m the laziest fucking fatty that ever existed.  this is what happens when you see yourself without time.  i am all the things i have been, and all the places i have been them.  i feel your pain, because it is my pain.  i facilitate the bloodletting, because your toxin levels are past tolerable.

am i the only music lover who thinks tom waits sounds fake?  some of his stuff is good, but that forced gravelly thing drives me crazy.  he’s far more tolerable than anything on the standard commercial radio spectrum.  speaking of, the last time i went for a swim out at Sunset Lake, the time i tweeted about having the beach to myself?  anyway, the last group of people to leave, the ones who were leaving as i tweeted that, didn’t.  well, one of them didn’t.  she kept her van open and shitty fucking corporate country radio station blaring out over the lake.  it was only when i backfloated with ears below the surface that i was able to escape the horrid, profit-driven auditory onslaught.  i asked her to turn it off, but i didn’t have my glasses on as i did.  i had no interest in confronting her.  she was drinking soda and smoking cigarettes, the other poisons common to the corporate social-hate-adherents, known as “popular music.”  fuck.  when did pop country turn to extra-shitty-pop-rock?  they’ve taken every last shred of decency from the things that you love, yet you cling to everything that they produce as if it’s the only game in town.  if you only listen to one fucking source and its variety of disseminations, and that source continues to tell you that it’s the only source in town, you can pretty much be sure that you’re being lied to.  i bolted from that lake to escape the ear/soul pain.  she passed me on my bike not more than  a mile away, and waved.  at least the air-poison was off.

this is what you poisoned fucksticks are going to have such a difficult time with when it comes to consensus.  the sensitive of us cannot take even a taste of your insidious corporate shit, whether you love it or not.  it is blocked from being presented here for that reason.  this is not discrimination.  we are not preventing you from thinking anything, but we are preserving our own tortured ears from having your own brand of poison crammed into them.  those melodies composed of gender roles and awkward, destructive human interaction are the patterns you build you lives around.  much like the amish, i believe those past crimes should not be mentioned.  the punishment has been dealt.  you are completely forgiven and i am still madly in love with you, and i will continue to be madly in love with you when you so harshly insult me and ruin a small chunk of my life, forcing me to dish out this wordy punishment.

it’s cloudy and 5:30 pm.  i should bike.  i’m nearly out of weedy meds.  has the dictator ever made us go postal before?  well, has he ever made us steal anything?  well has he… the world forces us to be without happiness.  dictator would never prevent you from enjoying that.  dictator directs you to the most stable, inclusive, comprehensive means and form of health that any of us have encountered through this entire meatbot experiment.  you get the shortcuts, the instruction manual, the full franchise agreement with all the terms and conditions, right up front.  the cost is as free as you want it to be.  the dictator starves at the moment, physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially.  he endures social torture the likes of which none of us could comprehend because none of us stick our heads out enough for them to be chopped off the way he does.  yes, this reveals all of us as the states’ executioners.  also, the corporate silencers.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aztec_religion includes the term “bloodletting” which is a ritual of Tozoztontli, the “little vigil” festival from march 26 – april 14.

when i went back to Yale for my reunion, i mixed ibuprofen and alcohol, and was put under a spell so insidious and cruel, i was in torturous pain.  this was fairly typical of the time i spent there.  social exclusions were without explanation, and no exceptions were made.  dude, nobody wants to talk to anarchists anywhere.  who says i’m an anarchist?  you did.  ok, does it look like i am?  well, you look like more of a cooperativist.  but you call yourself a fascist more often than an anarchist, even.  and what does that have to do with anything?  aren’t my means of proclamations fascist?  no.  they’re not human, rational, or explainable.  word shitting for its own sake.  is it?  there aren’t any themes woven through there?  this is what i’ve spent my life studying.  this is what i know about humanity and institutions and earth.  take it.  i don’t want it all to myself any more.  i can’t handle the torment of being excluded for knowing this shit.  when everyone knows it, and is then excluded, we’ll all just die or become reevers.  i told you from the fucking beginning, all you have to do is stop taking the poison, but you have to decide to stop taking the poison.  then, you have to recognize it as poison.  not because you were taught that by a book, but because you can actually feel the damage it does to your very own energy body, your magnetic field, the fluid flux of bio-chemical, physical, and electric synaptic processes that morph daily into angels and demons alike, all of you.

if a three year old is being a tyrant to you, do not hide the pain that it inflicts.  show or tell them that, and ask gently if they will stop.  coordinate goals, as basic as finding nutrition and appropriate company, and assist one another in common tasks.  there is much to do, and a lot of it would be better shared publicly.

i don’t know how to approach people.  not effectively.  they put up those shallow social barrier tests, and i kick them down and scream at them for being so fascistly territorial.  it’s abusive.  both the way i interact with the world and the way the world interacts with me.  why do you think i can yell so fucking loud?  i have been abused by the best of ‘em.

i don’t need to look at pictures of the exes.  i memorized every square inch of their physical forms.  sweety, i know you only got naked on the internet.  far as my body knows, you’re an ex girlfriend.  this entitles you to a great number of rights with no responsibilities, at all, really.  you don’t have to listen to anything i say.

another human i’ve encountered irl is on my radio now.  he just said, “we have insane clown posse bobble-head dolls.” go get ‘em! lol.

the devil’s in the details.  the key passages will be the boring ones, the structural things.  the fluff about “rights” is what the public “debate” will be focused on, but that won’t be the nuts-and-bolts of the designed-in-capitalism of the system.  if there are any entities called “independent bodies” whose budgets and appointments are under the control of another entity, they are not independent.  independent bodies have unconditional budgets and standing unlimited right of freedom and access to records.  do not let them distract you by saying that the fluff about what “they allow” you to do has anything to do with the infrastructure that all humans must navigate that goes into place by enacting this thing.  if only 35% of people voted, i suspect it’s because input on the essential sections was either brushed aside, sarcastically dismissed, or prevented by the very structure of commenting that was allowed.  international corporate standards make these things slaves (yes, entire nations are slaves) just by setting the framework for these documents.  if you want something original, forward thinking, and open, you let someone like Buckminster Fuller design it.  it’ll be a page long, and people will thrive.  amen.

the music i tweet, the historical corporate stuff, is the tiny percentage of the whole that i’ve heard which i enjoy, deem acceptable, or have once liked.

i have no vested interest in any of these stories.  i can’t verify any of their sources.  even if i could.  i am a feral animal, and my aura is my life.  if you try to bleed me, either incrementally or in one sarcastic swoop, i will take you out, permanently.  if you have suggestions for more efficient means of accomplishing all of the essential design-inclusion functions, please word your additions to that end.  it’s so frightening, initially, to the terror-drones, that the only interaction they have know for their entire lives, except possibly for their child-rearing experiences, is no longer acceptable, at all.  you must provide them a means of draining these diseased pusses as they detox.  you must continue the never-ending supply of love, for that is what will ultimately heal all of us.

ooh, maybe that’s it.  maybe it’s just the fucking database.  who have you slept with, how did it go down, and how was it?  shit yo, it was good.  it was very extra yummy super-good.  when hasn’t it been?  no, even wasted, sex is fucking great.  couldn’t we track known diseases, and let the people with the same ones go crazy on each other?  isn’t that only fair?  entire communities could just swap.  yeah, that’s syphilis-ville.  you’re looking for aids-town.  it’s two towns over.  look, it fucking matters.  be specific about the specifics worth actually knowing the truth about.  i will not ever categorize you as a bad person, nor will the terminology i choose echo judgment of the shallow-minded and cruel.  unity of commonalities, fruits and vegetables, flora and fauna.  birds and bees.

so, why shouldn’t a singles site ask you who you’ve fucked already, then it asks those people how you were, and then recommends you to their single friends?  would it be a bad thing to recommend you to non-single friends whose family and friends ALL recommended a partnerial upgrade?  how don’t databases and flimsy cultural “how-it’s-done’s” significantly affect how you live your daily lives?

look, unless you’re sharing girls with me, i don’t have much interest.  i can dictate all this shit from my tiny noisy corner of my imagination.  fuck your huffery and puffery.  you’re all fucking brain dead and without something to stick my dick in, there’s really no point.

where did that come from?  jesus.  jesus gave you that, did he?  no, that was like an exclamation, like JESUS!  so it was a typo?  no, more like a teaser.  you don’t handle teasing very well, of any sort, do you.  no.  put up or shut up.  i can drop any human instantaneously.  i could take out a mob single-handedly.  i have defeated armies, without weapons, armor, or ranks.  you’ve never heard of someone as alone as i actually am in real life, right now.  my actual life is the dystopic fairy tale.  suck my dick.

i think in any organization, you should be able to vote with your dollars.  zivity style?  well, i guess, sorta, yeah.  look, in any given non-profit or business where somebody sells you on some product or process or technology or whatever, don’t you want to be able to specify who determines the disposition of that dollar?  whether we’re talking about the ability to donate to the survival of individual members of “my” co-op, or the hiring of the time of experts, workers, writers, or designers, for their time.  as of right now, i would put full dictatorial control in the hands of John Sheffy.  he’s the only “male” other than myself who i would give this control to.  the only other capable, and sufficiently agile to tackle a project such as this.  i would gladly be his house slave.  oh that’s just sick.  no, it’s really not.  look, any healthy environment is going to lead to my attachment to another warm-blooded human(s) of appropriate age and marital status.  it happens.  sure, keep me locked in a cage with no right of visitation, and i’ll get kind of hungry.  you better propose before i run out of weed, bro.  no, it’s like a magical force-field.  jesus Christ, man! you’re not the only one who’s allowed to be in love with your wife!  quit insulting the two of us and learn something about human interaction.  do i ask too much?  no, you demand it.  look, it’s not my fault you built your society out of poisonous hate.  i’m trying to let us all escape from it simultaneously.

horrible grammatical mistakes are terrifying from someone you’re trying to fall in love with, arent’t they?  from someone you’re already in love with, they’re beautiful.  you know they don’t really matter at all.  some of the kindest, most sensitive people i’ve ever met have a horrible time sticking to formalistic grammatical constructivism.  formulaic does not mean holding to a specific path or preventing anything specific outright.  it means allowing broad tolerances of interpretation as long as deeper understanding of philosophical and practical intent are understood.

are we back on education?  yes, that article was excellent, and not just for the picture of healthy, well-adjusted children.  they don’t look American, do they.  no, they look like they live on actually healthy plants and don’t receive daily bombardment from corporate “entertainment” firms.  the psychopaths will not do a good job raising your children, except to teach them how to be good contented little slaves.  since no such thing exists, they balloon up into diseased addicted noisemakers.  clean food is saving the world.

they give themselves to me, these children.  well, they provide me the opportunity.  i don’t know that the way i take it is inappropriate at all.  ask them.  i consider them all my friends, and i wish them the best.  i recommend them to one another, and i continue on this project which i hope will provide a sort of means through which all of us can pool our talents and resources, for the health, freedom, and entertainment of us all.

you tell me i’m ok.  you’re ok.  no, but you’re much better than ok.  you’re on the verge of a miraculous breakthrough.  am i?  you are.

dude, this is a lot of words again.  what’s with the nosey grindstone all of a snowden?  catchy.  uhh, i dunno.  solar flares, prolly.  you laugh.  that’s an offense punishable by death, you realize.  *stands and raises hand* speaks aloud ,“permission to execute in-kind verbal assault of offending dementor.”  it met eyes with each of them individually, some raised their thumbs in constitutionall-granted shows of approval, some extended flat-handed signs of abstention, but none blocked.  it stepped to the top of the table, walked to the man who had merely snickered, dropped to the floor to reach ear level, and upon inhaling a huge breath of air from the center of the circle, leaned into and over the table, and unleashed the most deafening, blood-curdling yell you could imagine coming out of the skull of a mortal human.  half the room cupped their ears.  a few chimed in (oral democracy is the name of that tune.  it’s an audience-participation number.  sing along if you know the words.), and those first to witness the dictator in action were terrified into paralysis until those around them and then the dictator surrounded them with the most loving hugs they had ever received.  yes, this is exactly how we treat human beings on planet wasteoid.

the reason we create basic standards of acceptable communication right from the beginning is to ensure appropriate (there’s that word again) participation from everyone.  what’s that even mean?  it means everyone gets to voice their small-minded opinion and be told why it’s wrong, or how it’s already been taken into account.  if they are not satisfied with the explanation, or feel that they have been marginalized, they may block.  if they unconditionally block a life-essential function, they may be rightfully deemed to be contrary to the life-supporting mission of the co-op, and may be temporarily or permanently removed from its board for that reason alone.  most of the time, the challenges would come from a small, soft-spoken member, and their questions rather handily answered by those central to the project.  if not satisfying or non-confrontational enough, a conditional block pending further information or ego check block (essentially an audit by standing committee) could delay progress by a meeting cycle at least.  although, typically, when one of these did this, dictator would lodge a concurrent/parallel block, acknowledging and adding to the original exceptions and demands for investigation, accounting, and information, but adding on numerous additional layers of his own.  what usually happened was that the project went out of their way to include the original blocker in the present and ongoing design and budgeting process, and their input was very well received.  also, most of dictator’s added concerns were addressed by the next meeting as well.  those honestly addressed/considered, yet not satisfied were often withdrawn.  those not addressed stood as stubbornly as the dictator himself.  power always reverts to the most powerful entity in the room.  your titles and labels and “job responsibilities” bear little meaning to actual reality.  this is how shit really works.

to design a project that dictator can actively participate in, he must be exhausted completely.  this means a full day’s worth of hard labor.  this may sound easy, but it’s not.  the owners of 2,500 acre farms have had to invent tasks to keep him busy.  that’s when you put him on the task-creation.  let him make his own to-do list, test the results of his own lab, and implement the creations that result, based on actual existence or empirical data.  this is how i know you’re all complicit in evil.  none would sacrifice its own pathetic little ego or mound of dirt to allow the know-it-all geniuses of the world to actually implement the utopia that your fasci-capitalist attempts have failed at so miserably throughout history.  you are a petty tyrant, the end of a long line of petty tyrants.  the reason you have the resources that you do is a result of your tyranny.  is that universally true?  no.  there are exceptions.  there exist people who truly heal.  such activity is not actively rewarded, and is one of the most heavily armed industries.  like, corporately?  exactly.  you talk weird.  yes, thanks.  what is this shit we’re listening to?  no idea.

oh yeah.  not all of the poisons you consume are in “food” form.  many are in the form of “drugs” and these make you fat as fuck, too.  smoke a bowl, fatty mcPhatterson!  you are an intolerable ass.  i know you are, but what am i?  good one.

food forest every five.  we will set up a network of free food forests, where human beings may go and eat, freely.  fuck theunited states.  i prohibit any of my creations to be installed in theunited states of America.  there. done.  god fucked theusa.  starve, you are gonna leave this, huh.  you are the strangest presidential candidate i have ever seen.  thanks.  how absolutely adorable of you to say.  you could be beating me with a baseball bat, and i would find it absolutely adorable.  what?  get near me.  prove it.

loll’d. yuh, ‘cuz after the first strike, i would emit the most brutal noise you have ever heard in your entire life, and you will not have any idea what to do.  i will dismantle your vital functions one by one, if need be.  most likely, all at once.  we’re brutal that way.

ooh, human tags.  genderless.  if i tag you this, it basically means, i never hear you ascribe genders to actions, or actions to people based on gender.  you tend to shy away from gender-based descriptions, and insults generally.  or, perhaps, it is more of question of whether you tag yourself this in the first place.

i’ve looked like a complete and utter douchebag since i cut off most of my beard.  i’m not a worthy human anything.  why haven’t you fucking assholes put me out of my misery yet?  this is a serious question.  hey, this is a happy paragraph.  honestly, do you view your life as screaming at people from the middle of nowhere?  i don’t know, it seems to be like what people need right about now.  get over it.  get past it all.  nothing matters and nobody cares.  we all only want to be able to eat.  let’s help us do that, k?  OHH FUCKING KKAAAAYYY!!!  i merely enjoy yelling loudly.  that is all.  a tic, if you will.  i take medication for it when the natural suppressants are unavailable.  look, i was educated by civil society.  there is simply no way to shut off your survival instincts.  if you can’t individually act as both the designer, queen, and drone of a hive, we’re all done.  seriously, either that, or shut the fuck up, and sit your noisy ass down before i break your fucking jaw.  well, fine, as long as you’re asking nicely.

you know you could have just been a good family and let me be a dancer.  there’s no money in dancing.  dude, there’s no money in anything for me.  i’m intolerable to humanity, never mind capitalism.  i’m in pain.  no, existential pain.  i have no progeny.  not a single person of means has found me of acceptable quality, character, word, or deed.  conditionals, all.  the proportion of your life that you’ve been dancing lately hardly qualifies the title.  oh really.  there are rules about this kind of thing?  absolutely.  strict ones.  the international dance-self-entitlement agency oversees all of that.  naming standards and whatnot.  hmm.  an appointed body, no doubt.  the president of the universe has appointed the current participants, but he’s really more of a family man, and i doubt he’s take you in the octagon or anything like that.  momma’s boy, eh?  no doubt! aren’t most humans, oh.  what else is wrong with you?  what isn’t wrong with me?  i got nothin’.

this is page 13, since right before those two monster paraglyphs above us now.  eew.

this is beautiful, but i had to lol.  it can give you the confidence to cook like a chef if you happen to have a can of nitrous-charged egg foam sitting around.

we’re going to post this thirteen-page monstrosity?  why the fuck not?  what? you got somewhere to be?  you got some friends who are urgently … no.  the only people who give a fuck about you can’t do a fucking thing about it.  drink.

k.
t

p.s. this post has a terrible ending.  not any more, it doesn’t.  yes, you have to end it.  no, the end of this unlucky page is in sight.  go get some food and think about what you’ve done and things will get better.  fine!

be right back. 12:08 AM

it’s 1:00 AM, and my computer has been crashing for the past hour.  awesome.  thanks.  how did you not ask for this?  right, that’s what this is.  it is, and you know it.

k, can we move on now?  i think so.  don’t post it.  don’t tell me what to do.  fuck.

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-08-31 (Wednesday).

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