how it is
how it is
most of the time, i only leave. twitter is the first time i’ve bothered to say anything (not to mention, stick around). when applying for jobs, these are the people who will get them:
- people of similar education/political views to those hiring
- people of similar familial/social background to those hiring
- people with kids, people who are married
- people who ask/demand things for themselves
as there is no shortage of any of these brain dead morons to apply for every fucking job there is, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for single, childless, homeless anarchists like me to bother. what are my options? i have no idea. i’m off the grid, any grid. every time i encounter someone of means, they instantly sense my utter desperation and go into hoarding mode. usually, i end up paying them. i’m starving to death. here, now, in every sense of the word. socially, physically. nobody in this horribly fucked up society cares. people who are slaves to the petty land/business owners don’t dare rock the boat, for there are at least ten more like each of them waiting to take their place if they leave. there are not as many jobs as there are people. this is a simple fact, and it is by design. this is how you know we’re all slaves. that’s how the things that shouldn’t matter can be made to matter. that’s how the unacceptable people can be funneled, rounded up, and kept from doing that which i do on a daily basis, scream about the fact that nothing here is logical, if it ever was.
it’s my grandfather’s birthday today. he died a few years back, of Alzheimer’s. the last time i saw him was at a birthday party. his face was swollen and distorted, he didn’t look like himself at all. not to mention, my father hated him, probably for good reason. well, for one he was military, so he no doubt went through that psychological torture. then, he was catholic, so that torture was his as well. stained, through and through. unforgivable, right? they needn’t be. well, the two people who seem to me most greatly affected by this old guy, who i liked and got along with for the small amount of time i got to know him as a kid, are pretty much the most hard-headed, conservative, nasty, cruel “liberals” you’ll ever meet. now i even own an rv like grandpa did. they think i’m satan incarnate.
thanks, grandpa. so, the shattered children of a shattered home were my adult role models growing up. war culture, tv, the shift to industrial food, and the kennedy assassination had more to do with y’alls fuck-uppedness and inability to think and discuss sensitive issues as human beings than any of your family interactions did.
oh, and the whole family is cruel. not only the men, and not only that side of the family. harsh cruelty is how they “deal with” each other. i really wonder if any tenderness was ever shown in that household. it was spiteful and competitive, regardless. here’s how i know. since i don’t have a job, nobody will speak to me. since there’s absolutely nothing outside of “how ones makes a living” that is worth mentioning to the outside world, then what would possibly be the point of communicating with that freak? grandma’s delusionally paranoid about certain things, but a die-hard true-believer about other things. in a parallel universe, where i am rewarded for the work that i do, i was able to establish a clean, nutritious food and social infrastructure which allowed them to purge their demons and toxins and we all get together and see one another regularly. instead, i can’t afford gas to go anywhere, and they force me to ask for help. hey, “family.” if i had finished my law degree, nobody would have hired me, and i’d still be in exactly the same predicament i’m in now. possibly worse. so, eat shit and die. you all suck.
happy birthday, grandpa. this is your clan. i follow those on fb who will friend me (not all will), but i can’t take their means of interaction any more. basically, i’m too much of a fascist to be amongst these fascists. they start getting competitive and i will knock everyone on their ass with a single phrase. i don’t have to raise my voice, but i can. my voice can condemn and terrify anyone, and almost nothing phases me except hierarchical cruelty towards ones dependents. in other words, typical human interaction.
i don’t require kids because i knew what raising them was like when i was one. fuck, most of the time, i was the one in charge of whatever room i was in. i handled classroom discipline, i made sure the conversation kept rolling. the entire structure relied on me and gave me nothing for it. no, they got your ego worked up enough to think that an expensive education would help. we knew better, but we had to check that place out. i didn’t really hate everyone there, but they thought i did. my life has always been a mess.
Happy Birthday, Grandpa George Trafford Mertes. RIP (1923-2004)
facebook is full of pictures of kids leaving for their first day of school. fuck. poor little guys. stick together, kids. everything they’re “teaching” you is lies, but they don’t know any better. so, do what you have to do to get through that horrible place, but take it all with a grain of salt. trust me, this is coming from someone who took everything that teachers/textbooks told him as gospel truth. it’ll make for quite the know-it-all. none of that shit matters, anyway. the people who get jobs are the lazy fucks who don’t think past any of what they learned. in fact, they barely remember all of that. this allows them to make “dumb mistakes” and remain human. if you never slip, nobody will believe that you’re not a robot. fuck the world.
how many times? ok, i’ll tell you again. i would like a place to live. i am currently staying under my dad’s roof, but nobody’s supporting me, not even me. have we not gone over this in this very post? this must have been what grandpa felt like in the months before he died. stuck in a “nursing” home with cold, impatient, on-the-clock “caretakers.” yeah, i’ve met nurses. they’re a hardened bunch. they smoke. they’re frightfully unhealthy, and they have inferiority complexes from working with over-educated assholes who make lots more than they do. how is this not a formula for nastiness? fuck all that.
we need to be more clear about this: dear family, nuclear and extended. fuck you. wait, no, FUCK YOU. i have no idea who or what is supposed to help me, but i had some delusional belief that my own flesh and blood would give a fuck. clearly, about that, i was mistaken.
i really don’t think you want me doing anything without weed. i wouldn’t trust me around 99% of humans. no, i would only leave, unless i was captive. then, i would do whatever it takes to not be tortured, like EVERY FUCKING ONE OF THEM DOES TO ME EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE THEM. noise, first. if that doesn’t work, i will start disabling you. ability to speak and breathe may be the first to go. oh, and i’m not afraid to hit “girls” as if competitive judgmentalism and insults are “feminine” traits. there are so few pockets of non-torture-chambers in this entire country, but i know that they exist. if a relatively stable/kind family were to adopt me, i don’t see how i would have any problems, you know, other than the whole inability to feed myself with zero access to arable land. your lawn is fascist. your face is fascist. i can’t possibly make you feel as guilty as you deserve to be made to feel. that’s because you don’t deserve to be made to feel guilty at all, by anyone. so everyone has lied to you for your entire life, so what. so every authority figure has gotten there through foul means. so what. so the entire social structure is built on polite little lies that all of you sorry fuckers tell each other EVERY FUCKING DAY! fuck it.
those who demonized your sex drive did so for the purpose of manipulation and control. now, you are entirely complicit in the process. i am a monster, aren’t i. so are you. ok, so is your kid, then. my kids are angels.
so, yeah, i’m here to tell you i’m being starved and tortured by my family because your fucked up society’s fucked up rules. oh, you’re here to make a buck, are ye? no, i’m here to make friends. i don’t know. ask the three hundred people who are my friends on facebook who’ve met me in real life. ask them if they really consider themselves to be my “friends” now. i can feel human vibrations from anywhere on earth, and i know and hold dear the handful of people who do send me love. the people from my distant past can’t really be expected to be the first to move on something like this. they have bills and mortgages and jobs and families, and… that kind of cuts both ways, doesn’t it. they’re all responsible. the thing is, even if you have your own shit covered, and your own family’s shit covered, you’re only as safe as the least safe people feel. once everything breaks down, there are people as capable as me who have large dependent families to support, and as no army thus far has been able to stop me, let alone slow me down, if you really think that pile you’ve amassed is going to protect you from the rest of us, you must have some mechanized genocide in mind (not that it isn’t public knowledge). it amuses me, watching how far you’ll push it, both individually and collectively. gang up, go ahead. you just give me another corpse to use as a weapon.
the reason i love twitter (here we go again) is that it is a relatively level playing field. you can watch without letting anyone know you are there, or there are varying degrees of being able to do so. also, you can’t really interrupt anyone. you can act like someone in the real world would pretend to, being louder or changing the subject, or ignoring it, but on twitter, a whole bunch of actual human beings saw it. it really happened. that thing was said, or that question was asked, and it should probably get an honest answer.
so, troll is just a word for someone not in your little in-group who you don’t like? awesome. definition 6 is telling. the “patriot” post is as trollish as the troll’s response. it is, as definition 2 states, “ad hominem” and “straw man” “attacks” or “arguments.” this whole line of discussion is mind-bogglingly avoidant of substance. nobody knows a fucking bit what they’re talking about, but since they don’t have anything of substance to talk about, they end up trying to start discussions with completed offensive thoughts that they’ve been fed by authorities, to reinforce their carefully constructed worldview. see, now i’m doing it, too. a “flamer” disagrees with the content, eh? i’m should bprobably add that to me bio, eh? meh. comedy cuts into this. you can turn yourself into a straw man with comedy, or defile yourself as “a troll.” well, when you are viewed as a weirdo everywhere you go? expatriate-minded, international types.
the fucked up thing about planet earth is that THERE ARE NO ON-TOPIC DISCUSSIONS, ANY FUCKING WHERE. the labeling of people is troubling. regardless of purpose, for which broad assumptions are made, these people either have a lot to teach, or could learn a lot.
also, this is why people lurk. they’ll get banned as trolls. the fascist assholes who set these things up and go around banning people all willy nilly because they don’t like how they talk, or that they talk about too many things, or too quickly, but just because they have the control, they can just flip a switch and that person is gone for good. hey, why would you have to think about humans as humans in fascist-land? nobody’s allowed to eat clean, safe food, so you couldn’t bring them dinner. and hey, they’d probably rape and murder you anyway, ‘cuz, you know poor people and druggies! every fucking conversation on this retarded fucking planet is based on these judgmental lies, and a basic inability to communicate, through words or any other means, because you’re such addictable beings! these ideas get in your head and you cling to them like gospel. some fascist asshole posts about “trolls” as if it’s a permanent condition solved only by termination, and this is allowed to stand? hey, don’t wonder why kids turn into bullies when these are the things made popular by the internet as a whole. what do you get people to think about and why? i want people to think about why they’re so fucking possessive of their potato chips. why, because those fucking potato chips are so fucking expensive, is all. that’s fucking ridiculous. i know. but what if it’s true. what if every single thing that a “troll” was ever banned for saying, was in fact true. you claim to have an infrastructure that’s level and democratic, and “open source,” but what actually happens in banishment and starvation for the truth-tellers. there’s no way to reconcile that. none. the examples of games make me laugh. fuck your video games. my parents gave me that, too. i know. i got a swiss army knife full of social exclusions, don’t I?
i’m a little disappointed. i was hoping a griefer was a person on facebook who was constantly grieving about death, disease, or just the horrible pain of everyday life. god, i love that shit. no, i do a lot of that, too. i try to take on all of these demeanors, because i think they’re telling. also, THEY’RE IN ME ANYWAY. what, 90% of message board interaction is lurkers? what does that tell you? it tells you the 10% who interact are violent, evil, assholes. nobody wants to play with any of you know-it-alls, because you assume we know a ton of shit we couldn’t possibly know, and then you post racist, classist, insulting shit and get surprised when it clearly hurts someone’s feelings enough to insult you back.
do snobs make all the rules? aspiring snobs. ooh, those are my favorite kind! the aspiring snobs, you can actually get them to cry. the actual snobs, well, they’ll just have you killed, or seduce your best friend. don’t stand in their way. watch and learn. cautiously warn your friend of your bitter jealousy, err, i mean plant an idea in their head that it could only be shallow/temporary, i mean inform them of your expert armchair relationship analysis, and then get the fuck out of their way. if you really are their friend, you will hold them up on your shoulders, sitting or standing, and you will wait patiently until you are sure that they will not fall, and if they ever (ever) do, you will break their fall, catch them, or at least brush them off and help them to their feet if you don’t see the actual descent or can’t get there in time. when love exists all around, this will lead to multiple good things happening. when jealousy, exclusion, and lies abound, nothing gets done. people sit around nursing their fragile little ego’s and thinking about which of the other little human slaves they’ve been breeding and hoarding they can get into place as their #2. it’s no way to run a relationship.
“impossible” is an opinion. unpacked, it means, “i don’t know or understand a way to do that” which logically, has nothing at all to do with possibility. it is used incorrectly all the time, and used when people really have no fucking clue what they’re talking about. nothing that you have been told is impossible, is impossible. so there.
indie fundies are scary. so are “internet culture” fundies. you’re a small minority, you fast fingered porn-lovers. much like the lawyers, some of your methods are actually useful. some of your definitions make sense and describe what’s going on in the real world. the same could be said of hip hop. when it’s all centered around a culture of exclusion and distinct classes, unwritten rules and poor introductions/descriptions/help, it needs to be dismantled down to the bare essentials. we have to go back to formula. these unwritten rules have to be codified, because people are coming from too many different backgrounds. they have to be given the tools to first understand their own bodies and the living processes around them. then, if they have no interest in “learning” anything else, not a single person should be expected or forced to do so. let people do what they want to do. let people be how they want to be. it’s getting to the point where your tv and movie watching and video-game playing, designing/selling is seriously impeding the entire planet’s ability to do anything useful at all. honor your trolls (see also definition 5). they have a lot to teach you.
“Person: In general usage, a human being (i.e. natural person), though by statute term may include a firm, labor organizations, partnerships, associations, corporations, legal representatives, trustees, trustees in bankruptcy, or receivers.”
—Black’s Law Dictionary, 5th edition, citing the National Labor Relations Act, section 2(1).
3:31 pm. 1st meal of the day, other than a cup of cold coffee and a shot of milk. yes, i still drink milk in my coffee. i find it necessary to continue using all of the products i criticize. except soda and cigarettes. come on, i’m not a monster.
he wasn’t a monster either. i shared his aura. i climbed on his back, attached my little body to his legs, and there was no ill will in him. that’s all i can say. i enjoyed my time in contact with that old man, as far as i can remember, and if he’s a pervert, then i must be, too. who cares. are you still defending dead people you don’t know. what’s the point of that. you weren’t there. i was there for the times that i was there, and i saw shared space and love. fuck, it’s more than i’ve gotten from my immediate family. i know, they have their own mortgages and bills and friends. nobody wants and admitted pervert. then they’ll get all offended every time we get all huffy and self-terrified about sex offenders and whatnot, like they know. do you understand how things are passed generationally? it’s not a singular event, it occurs over time. i’m trying to balance out the karmic pain my family has caused, and continues to cause, by their thoughtless and loveless acts. they follow roles, just like the rest of you. they’re not any better or worse, they’re exactly the same. i hate this entire society and everyone of its adherents with unbridled passion. unfortunately, i also love each human individual on planet earth. it’s a conundrum. an enigma. pretty much, it means i cry a lot.
i’m part feral. i’m part pervert. i’m part communist, part fascist, and part conservative. i’m tree hugger and a quality control fanatic. i’m a student of religious beliefs, dogmas, traditions, and writings, and i find repeated formalities hilarious and useless. all of the things they accomplish may be formed with the appropriate thoughtform, and much more quickly than the ritual. kids, rely on your natural abilities over those sparked by ritual. i’m part nerd and part robot and part whipping boy. i’m a programmer and a participant, i am a prostitute and a john. i am a young girl/boy and an old man/woman. i am a small toy poodle and a pit bull who kills for its vittles. you have to want all of these things to survive, because all of these things are real life. you can’t sanitize nature.
all of the granfalloons must be broken before any healthy structure may be built.
bashar says it well: http://youtu.be/qYr31BLAzFc
uuh, both evil and your psychotic shock. when aliens do land and ask you to take them to your leaders, i expect my phone to ring.
if you choose to believe in authority, you are begging for a fascist.
if you’re looking for someone to put you in a good mood, that’s all i want to do. how do we balance this? those in power think they will determine all aspects, because that’s all they’re used to doing. those with none think the same, because they’ve never grasped their own inherent power.
is this going up? i think so. great.