worked from a little after 9 ‘til a little after 2. was purchased a meal that i wouldn’t have otherwise paid for (said that, in those words), and was paid $50. conversation options are: being mocked, ignored, or argued with. and he only brushed up against my leg twice today, and gestured quickly right in front of my face 2 or 3 times. then he grabbed my beard, claiming “i didn’t hurt you” i replied, “says you.”
i love how poisoning yourself into a disease is valued enough to pay for. but a non-traditional business arrangement/proposal? ostracism. i want everything in writing at this point, because the world is full of liars and hypocrites. fucking fascists.
hey, weekend means not being laughed at, except for my second favorite database. i know this is how i treated many of you. whatever the fuck. detox is a motherfucker.
the 1% are not the maintainers of this system. it’s more like the 50%. and the attitude pervades the top 99%. oh, that’s what you were talking about in the first place. hey, at least we’re not THAT guy.
i have forgiven the me that passed the hurt along, and i thank the me that brings up the awkwardness because you have to stop acting hyper-competitively now. all of you. stop relaying the “pay me plus interest”/corporate/condemning ethic to your children. they’ll get over it, and unless you quit, you’re going to die. for-profit restaurant food is poisonous, is the point of this. and if you work for a place and knowingly sell that poison to other human beings, you’re just as guilty/culpable/awful as the “scientists” who designed this trash.
the project needs cash. i feel like codifying. if any of you want to join/start/help any of the projects i’ve proposed, e-mail me.
<recent facedblech post>
interweblogg[roll]ing re: http://www.myspace.com/lazyasswasteoid/photos/18940062#%7B%22ImageId%22%3A18940062%7D
worked 5 hours. made $50. feel ill from “lunch.” you are what you eat. right now, i’m foul (abused fowl fetuses with cooked-to-mush vegetables over industrial potatoes [w’gmo hfcs ketchup] fried in industrial commodity gmo oil, with four slices of rye toast and 2 foiled tubs of gmo hfcs gel. multi-berry flavor. space-age.). even the food you serve is unethical, “savvy”/rich folk. maybe that’s the foundation of all the awfulness after all. the poisoning/enslavement of humans is worse, though. we have to be able to work with you. we have to be able to tag people as intolerable. we have to provide avenues for those intolerable people to survive. and you have to start telling people that they’re being cruel/mean as they are doing so.
cut out the known carcinogens (including movies, tv, magazines, and radio) for a month, and see if you don’t consider the today you to be a completely intolerable jerk. why do i always have to babysit the problem childs‽ i have like 12 simultaneous exorcisms going on right now. the demons are flailing. profit, let my people go.
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and then this happened:
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that highly sucks. i need to stop saying that, or typing it. because it’s a lazy expression of badness based on an expectation of a single variable, rather than the consideration of my entire blissful existence. i thought you were an isolated, outcast loser? hey, do i call you a capitalist fucktard to your face? yeah, i suppose i do. i apologize for the times i was forced to name you something distasteful to get you to stop hurting me. but you can’t see how you’re acting. the people around you can’t see how awful you’re being, or they’re too scared to tell you so. so what is there left for me to do? i write. i put it all down into words so that if i come back to this planet, everything i learned will be available immediately. if i were a human, or an alien, landing here for the first time, the information i share would be the first i’d want to know. so-sigh[p]etty. tyrants, death to. sick, semper, thai ran us. 5:25 pm
you’re going to have to learn to be consciously aware of every act of every person. the agents show themselves. treat the alien ambassadors with the respect they warrant. protection of murderers and the destruction of survival infrastructure are life-inhibiting acts. how would those not warrant exile, isolation, or death? asking people to stop doing awful things when they claim otherwise isn’t that helpful, and on some level, i have absolute faith that these diseased vermin are still human. we need to find the original zombie, or whatever. there’s a south park in this town. no, americans are fascist about parking. it’s the amurekkan whey.
buckminster fuller lecture, #9, 1 hour 58 min 58 sec. 1:58:58 resume.
- and again 3:04 pm, Saturday, March 24, 2012
this takes money and coordination. it also puts a wall between me and my friends, and that isn’t cool.
intention. i feel inventive. this video is amazing. i mean, it’s brutal. not like stawer-bucks brutal, funding militants and all. you vote for sides in the allwars by which brand you spend your federal reserve notes on. those are their own banky brand, you gotta know this by now. every dollar goes to war. every. single. dollar.
i don’t know that much about the pretenders. do i? oh, maybe i got a cd from one of my little sisters. i think i did. my corporate to-do list has stuff like “transfer mp3 folder we got from friend during happiest days i’ve ever had on this planet.” that’s not a very bold statement at all. skank so reet. money. J
so, the imaginator just said we should start getting famous people on our side. my side. it’s not really a side. it’s a process, and i don’t have the kind of patience for short-term goals. the steep way gets you to the top faster. except for when the people you encounter get all yelly and kicky and start knocking shit over.
why do we let businesses abandon buildings, or knock them down when they could so easily be used by someone else for life-sustaining purposes? i am utterly baffled by every single political act i see on the local level. you fucking retards are suicidally negligent. dispicably numb. counter-logically violent.
2:54 pm on Monday
furious. received an e-mail from a farmer i used to work for. he keeps telling me about jobs, and i keep telling him i’d like one. i have had rage in my ears much of the day. that whole album is cover songs.
you have to purge your mind of the “that’s how it works” because free people have no interest in the landowners treating them like shit. yes, you fucking scumbag, you treat people like shit. you give them as little information as is necessary to get them to slave for you, and no more. this is fucking retarded. i have nothing to say here.
charged. if you control land, you must release control. if you want me to develop the land, you must give me the freedom to do so. i know you think you can get rents from it every fucking month. i’m here to tell you that’s no longer the case. or, under a fair system, that never was the case. just because the bank does it to you does not mean it is an acceptable thing for you to do to others.
foot dragging, ruler-following, asshole-hiring thugs. the pater familias is a poisoned old fool, and his kid is a terrified, chicken-shitless, pencil-pusher tool. you fucking assholes deserve to have your properties overrun by homeless people with guns.
we need to have a class. a sit-down with a room full of poisoned old harumphing retards, and me up at the front with a panel of remote-control shock-collars, so that every time the old fucktards laugh at mean comments, i can zap them to decency. every time they say, “people aren’t ready” when they really mean “i’m a scared little child,” i can zap them into truthful words. i will have a selection of two-by-fours for back-up.
i want a fight club. i want to beat the living shit out of hollow, puffed up racist, sexist, classist militant retards. someone needs to get some more weed. nah, i’m done tempering for you pathetic little terror bots. fuck you. fuck your insensibilities. your fucking numbed minds and atrophied muscles. america is ripe for the picking, foreign invaders. except for all the fucking guns. what exactly, are you all protecting with those fucking guns? your own enslavement? let’s see, you plant non-native inedible plants that require fuel from a profit-driven multi-national corporation, and that corporation has stolen most, if not all, of that fuel, from mother earth and the rightful legal inhabitants of the land where it was obtained. you participate in this, you fucking plundering jackass! you know all of this, yet you persist.
this bitterness is all i have. someone please put me out of my misery. i can’t take it any more. i can’t take the disrespectful laughter from these hopelessly poisoned morons who start arguing with every point i make. all you want in a politician is a polished robot. i can’t give you that. all you want in an employee is an unquestioning, look-the-other-way-bot. this society of order-followers deserves to die. i can’t handle being in the same room as any one of you.
everyone that can help me thinks i’m intolerable. that’s because they beat on everyone, and expect you not only to take it, but to be functional after you do. that’s not how humans work, you violent fascist shithead. talk to me when you want to learn, and i will teach. i can’t access anything in my skull if i’m in self-preservation mode. that’s not entirely true. where are these words coming from? i don’t know. echoes of a once-somebody? who the fuck was that guy? horrible, he was. all the “he’s” are horrible. being a man is being awful. yuh huh. manliness is brutishness, responsibility is following orders, and paying your mortgage is justification of the enslavement of every pathetic, worthless sub-human on planet retard slave.