know why

know why the old people still send out job listings on e-mail lists, rather than putting them out on the internet?  same reason they require lots of experience.  nothing changes! ever!  change is the devilllll.

settle, you.  whatever.  i ran into old boss.  docks installer guy.  he’s a workhorse.  he knows i don’t really like him.  everybody knows that, you fucking asshole.  yeah.  i guess.  whatever.  he was hanging with the banker’s wife.  that makes her a banker, too.  she’s from iola, and remembers me as a kid.

she said something to the effect of “his parents must be awfully proud.” and i indicated that such is not necessarily the case.  when she initially mentioned that she knew my parents, i said, “oh no.”  how does that go over?  i don’t care.  i bet they have say over a ton of houses in town that are empty and deteriorating.  ha ha.  good luck with that.

old bosses business could house the construction of erv.  huge garage door, big workspace, and he works with aluminum and steel.  alls i need now are the materials and electronics experts to meet up with the concrete and paper experts to come up with a structural, pourable/formable capacitor/generator/collector.

if you want me to be a dancing monkey for the older generation, i cost infinity dollars per nanosecond.  and, i will shred your souls upon impact.  careful where you joke.  some of my friends have itchy trigger fingers, and no sense of humor.  we’re talking life and death here, and yours means absolutely nothing to me.  i don’t know how to tell you how little i care.

she claimed me for iola.  for having been schooled there.  why anyone would want to claim a foul-mouthed, toxic sex addict like me?  let alone an entire fucking town.  the banker’s wife has more power than the mayor, doesn’t she.  yeah, sweetie, i will insult all of you right to your faces.  your positions of power mean nothing to me at all.  in fact, i am already pre-judging you if you have any power, authority, cash, or property.  you are either a brutish, opportunist thug, or you come from a long line of them.  i am the poor.  give me everything you have if you want respect.

my house will have weekly fights.  nightly?  yeah, we’ll have to.  seriously?  yes.  you know the felons you’ll be living with, fucktard.  and they know if you don’t beat them down regularly, they’ll act like you.  ha.  that would not be good.  one of me is one too many.

i want to tweet.  ok.  1:09 pm. 4:25 pm.  41degrees Fahrenheit.  i keep listening to junglist.

next day [friday], dancing snowflakes on the way to work.  i take my work pretty fucking seriously, asshole.  the fact that you don’t is why i refuse to communicate with your dense, cruel person.  get over yourself.

i’ll be your daddy.  take that however you need it.  what the fuck am i here for?  hubby needs a day off here and there.  don’t act like you don’t take a few.  i’ve “worked” with you fucktards before.  i see how little you actually do, how little you are actually capable of doing, and i know that your jobs keep you in this because it keeps the entire process at a mind-grinding pace.

the duality of bladiness is what fascinates me the most.  both sides cut the same direction, though.  there is a realistic, higher, more biologically accurate truth, for all parties involved.  the hierarchy, oh, the hierarchy.  if children ran the system, it would run as is stated by the glorified glossies.  not this backwards, lie-about-everything retardation.

not that the backwards, lie-about-everything retardation isn’t completely explained by the hyperpoisons y’all infuse yourselves with on a regularity.  i knew this track would be good typing music.  dictator has never given us a day off.  don’t get me wrong, sometimes we beat him into submission and tie him up.  well, we tried a few times, but he fucking screamed so much and made our lives such a living hell afterwards, we realized there’s really no point in trying to contain him.  he roams free, stirring up shit wherever he can make himself visible.  which, actually, is not too many places.  online?  sure, he spends a lot of time there.  he can post thoughts that take the mortals years to crunch.  he blinks this shit.  seriously, it’s rare that he’s not bored in your presence, or under your “entertainment.”

your.  there he goes, being mean to everyone again.  my view of humanity can only be those people that i’ve met, right?  i mean, what, am i gonna use statistics or book learnin’?  and then, whose statistics?  the racist, sexist fuckin’ tv’s?  hells mothafuckkin’ no, i ain’t.  fuck them profiteers, rapists, and rapist protectors.  it’s usually quite disappointing to people to learn that the source of most of their thoughts is evil, poisonous, and intent on making them less than they could be.  your heartstrings are far too entangled with this beast.  we have to do something about that.

if you haven’t figured it out by now, i’m a lazy, worthless, do-nothing.  not “marrigable” material, in any sense of the terms.  i’m a useless crybaby, and a big, frighteningly intimidating one at that.  i wouldn’t want to get in your pants unless i can get in your head, and if i can’t, what’s the point?  the self-actualized are expected to live independent of socialization.  dictator says this is self-preservation and acceptance of reality.  that doesn’t make him not a dick, however.  he smiles.  what a fucking douchebag.  what?  i’ve cleaned a few vaginas in my day.  is that term sexist?  i mean, it refers to the sex organs of one sex, and it has come to mean a condescending, over-confident, meanie.  or someone with bad taste?  i never know what the insulties actually mean.  i doubt if anyone ever does.

it’s cute, how if you ever connect, in any way, Christianity or the bible and health, the fucking Christians chests get all puffed up and they’re all “yes, we’re doing this because it’s healthy” and then they gather in basements with huge kitchens that are only used once a week or once a month and they eat gluttonous quantities of poisonous substitutes for actual human sustenance, provided by their slave-masters.  yes, each step of the disrespectful, profit-driven chain is a fucking slave-master.  if you gain money from others by buying something of little worth, or extracting it from mother earth, and then selling it back to unwitting humans, knowing it is not for their highest good and health, or not bothering to find out, you are an advocate of this kind of butchery.  this cannibalism of humanity.  the channels are all poisoned.  each of you are going to have to find that which makes sense to you and build your own infrastructure to accommodate it.  i’m telling you now, as i’ve told you a million fucking times, it’s easier to do together.  most of you are not even close to that point yet, still.  you can tell these people by the fact that the only time they get together, they drink heavily, and focus on inessential tasks.  dude, most people would say every fucking thing you do is inessential.  you’re a waste of everyone’s time.  you can tell by their inaction and lack of communication with you.

the other possibility is that the free release of information, network, and all data, actually, instantly breaks every conception they have of the world.  i become a black hole of possibility, taking, nay stealing every artistic work, and taking it into a murky, dismal place (think the off-grid lands of 1984, equilibrium, heart of darkness) underground.  you know what they got under ground?  acceptance of anything that’s not harmful.  shit, depending on the type of harm you inflict, even some of those fly.  what are we even babbling about now?  i don’t know.  sounds pretty mainstream to me.  yah, right.

i knew this track would be good typing music.  oh, the egos are deafening.  what do i get out of the deal?  how will my investment pay off?  i don’t even want to work with people who think in those terms.  that strict strictness.  says the guy who refuses to take a few hours off, let alone a day.  stop calling me a guy.  i’m calling dictator a guy, you fucking dick, because you always say “he” in reference to fucking dictator.  do we need like a mutiny or something?  no, we need a female counter-balance.  that. would. help.  usually does.  good luck with that.  smelly fuckin’ outcast.  weird-eater.  ok, stop.  did you not watch that fucking aspartame and msg video?  those foods, nearly EVERY FUCKING FOOD IN THAT WHOLE FUCKING WAREHOUSE STORE is poison.  like rots your brain poison.  yes, the cause of all diseases, including alzheimers.  i keep fucking ranting this at you, that it’s not just fast food, and that even the fast food that you think is healthy, or healthier, isn’t, and that you’re all just lying to yourselvevs about that just like every other fucking thing else.  i like that typo. i’m keeping it. ;D

are we still ranting about food?  nobody wants to hear it.  they’re not gonna close all the fast food joints for a day.  if every one of you minimum wage workers joined me on strike, we would.  they would.  they’d have to.  i know you’d probably lose your job.  hey, there are more of you than there are managers.  if the manager’s a problem, we’ll solve it.  do you want to work with the farmers, the fucking customer service representatives?  the project managers?  the lawyers?  i know, they don’t think they have to work either.  hey, when we take over the police and start evicting them from their offices and homes, they won’t have a choice, now will they.  well, once we put a gun to them, they always have a choice.

and, out in the field, or on the lawn, if they end up next to small, gentle humans who look colorful and/or prickly, they may choose to leave immediately, or suffer dictator’s wrath.  he’s pro-death penalty, you know.  immediate execution for dehumanizing disrespect.  if personally delivered, it shall be.  dance style of LAW ain’t just made for dancin’.  pit fighter ain’t never had rules, except the natural.  peace, human.  let us enjoy this wonderful time and noise together.

is shystie dubstep?  skrillex seems like kind of a dick.  i mean, i thought that from his music alone, before, but seeing concert footage, yeah.  i’m sure we’d get along famously.  heh.  play something you don’t think i can dance to, son.  i teach the world to catch beats like yours for breakfast.  we have to get set up on the motion capture if you want to be able to see any of this.  3D flyby.  i know she’s married.  why/how wouldn’t she be?  there’s plenty of fish in the sea of my tears.

i do too tell the unacceptable humans why i find them so.  what do you think this shit is?  screaming rants of torturous pain by a poisoned, programmed loser.  ok, yeah, but what else?  telling humans how they’re harmful, to themselves and others.  thank you.  thank you.  why would a popular blog even ask a toxic anti-profiteer such as yourself.  ad revenue.  everybody’s gotta sell something.  this is the unbending, forceful nature of the machine.  if you put that boot on my neck, you better shoot me in the head, because if you let me up, you’ll never get another clear shot.  how many bullets have i dodged in my life?  more than i deserve, i’ll tell you that.  that’s not possible, by your own philosophy, dufus.  hey, the way we break these fucking religious nuts is to not disrespect them the way they continue to disrespect us.  if they open “their” property to our use, we use it as our own, including permaculture improvements.  the hand-selected batch that does church work are the most tattoo’d bunch of felons you’ve ever met.  any one of them can scream like these silent abusers do every day, but they so delight the young and terrify the old that a sort of peaceful balance, a stasis of happiness, is the result.

golden rule.  can the word you self-apply harm others?  it is disrespectful to those who like you?  to those who would otherwise support you?  otherwise support isn’t, and never was.  fucking threats are not negotiations.  i accept responsibility for the things i have said, the words and acts i have spo/underta-ken.  those probably don’t translate well.  hoy-OH-ken.  what do i care of translation or readability.  i’m the only one who ever reads this shit, or does anything about it, so what’s the eDifference.  good point.

oh, i’m sorry.  you won’t support my campaign until you’re promised a feel-good slogan with corporate backers, eh?  uhh, that ain’t happening.  ever.  it’s kind of a rule.  dictator knew full well his rules would program us right out of the machine.  that’s kind of the idea.  turn the beast inside out.  i like that inverted pyramid, mr. G.  that’s not the end result, tho.  the end result is the combination.  the merkaba.  one pyramid superimposed.  hyper-imposed?  well, they physically occupy one another.  the top and the bottom, the point and the base.  we must begin to admit 100% of reality.  you have to stop disrespecting us as dark matter.  all it does is piss us off and make us want to scream at capitalist landowners who say “someone else’s property.”  no, motherfucker.  all the fucking property.  if you have land here now, and you believe in this like you say, PUT YOUR FUCKING DIRT WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS.  24-hour human interaction is possible if you allow for 24-hour humans.  your rules are so archaic and quaint, it makes me want to puke.

who are you even yelling at any more?  i don’t fucking know.  all of ‘em.  every last human on planet earth.  this is what you must know about the “American” animal.  it is horrible, physically and literally toxic, cruel, abusive, manipulative, and hopelessly addicted to corporate poisons.  it focuses on its disease, and refuses to remove the feeding tube of chemically enhanced shit that streams through every orifice in its body.  it inflates to match the conception of allotted space, which for most is manifest destiny.  one “standard” American family, by tv conception, requires more square footage, energy and water, and structural elements to hold it up than 10 natural humans.  they’re gross, smelly, and mean.  even the ones who claim to understand.  hell, sometimes, especially and most pronouncedly the ones who claim to understand, have no respect for the end result, the supposed peace after all of this knowledge gets spread about and everyone gets to chew on it for a while.  do we execute the fighers upon critical mass?  how do we re-direct that viciousness, sir?  the trigger-pullers will lay down their own arms, or offer them up for tool re-purposing.  this is no-till, son.  swords may stay swords this time around.  all of the technology is there.  the experts need to stop being.  immediately.  they are the impediments to progress, and they are beginning to recognize this.  some won’t go peacefully.  as the violent tread, as they shall pass.  we can’t choose their end for them.

what do you miss?  is it an in-person-only comfort?  sharing the room aura of another human.  yes, that.  why do you think i am here, in this library?  i have a house to myself, with some rather nutritious food i should probably go cook now.  but it’s lonely as fuck.  not only that, it’s a capitalist hell-hole.  capitalists use your input, to do the exact opposite of that which you need.  profit is cannibalism.

i come to realize the only way i am accepted in my present reality, is drunk.  and, while others are.  nobody wants to listen to anything i have to say while sober, and if you can read this and reconcile the fact that i have been doing this, living as i see fit, for my entire life, and i put my faith in humanity to support my existence, yet everyone thinks i’m talking to someone else.  surely, i don’t own enough land to do any of these things, and i don’t want those kind of people schooling me on health.

listen, you tv-addicted maggots!  the weirdos are all healthier than you.  in their interactions, in their physical bodies, and in their view of the universe.  if you want to learn, if you seek enlightenment, you would do well to listen.

except for the perfume.  ugh, that’s harsh.  you guys don’t understand how evil dictator is.  we stopped drinking alcohol for reiki purposes, and he’s not letting us have coffee either.  no sugar, still.  probably making some bread today, and stew, and we can let it thicken properly this time.  that always makes it extra-nummier.  and how.

my mood may shift by my playlist, but you’ll never know, eh?

is this postworthy?  five pages.  ah, reading. brb. 3:31 pm 35 degrees.

this entry is stupid.  nobody cares.  they want proof that i talked about them.  how is this not doing all that shit you say is bad?  it is.  that, also, is probably part of the point.  i am, our of survivalist necessity, caring less and less about you fucking lardass drunks.

i hope you enjoy the horrible beast your community has spawned.

love,
t

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2012-02-24 (Friday).

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