triple chocolate bismarck
i await counter-offers.
the only reason i pasted that “average american diet infographic” is that i happen to be exactly the average weight for a female american. i’m 164 lbs, at 6’2”. then there’s some terrence mcKenna, which is pretty cool. does your back still hurt? omfg, like a motherfucker. i have the cane today. it kinda helps. i ate a donut, and i’m on my third cup of coffee, though it’s the first one with caffeine in it. i watched the car pull out of the driveway this morning. i slept most of yesterday, healing. i must obtain rice before cooking, and mom’s gone again this weekend.
i have no idea how to get myself out of this black hole of nothingness. every person i talk to about anything looks at me like i’m trying to ruin their lives. fix, you retardo-slaves, fix your lives. they’re pretty fucking useless right now, with all that gas, sugar, and poison. holy fuck, you’re dumb. yes, stupid. it is your fault. you trusted the tv. now, it’s gonna kill you.
the birds tell me that all the time. they tweet, “they’re gonna kill you, motherfucker,” and i smile and say, “they ain’t yet” and they laugh because a) it’s true, i am still alive, somehow, surrounded by violent retards, and b) nobody else talks to them but for a few kids who everyone else says are crazy or “special” or “different.” the violent retards are crazy harsh, and on their present vectors, none of them will survive. none? they reject it at the root level. someone has to be in charge for them to believe in it, and that someone has to be someone with a shit ton of cash, so they’re completely lost. so what am i supposed to do? keep writing. k, thanks, i got that. fucking useless, you are sometimes, disconnected voice. heh. i am the expert of the universe. without me you are a shell. if i were a shell i might have a partner. yeah, but you’d have only one. as you, there is no upper limit. yeah, but there’s no lower anything until then. you wanted to live in your head. no, i didn’t. i wanted to learn, and i wanted to share. i didn’t think every last human within earshot would be completely incapable and unwilling to even listen to me. they had more fear/anger than you thought, eh? more than i knew was possible. holy fuck, lady. lay off the stank, will ya. fuck. random people perfume. libraries rule.
i read a thing (i’m nested now; 5:23 pm, slightly less shitty) from one of the activist accounts i follow (i know, there’s a chance they’re all mossad. how would that be any different from any other situation in real or virtual life?), about how even using the phrase, “gay marriage” is racist. like, would you say, “i’m going to an inter-racial marriage this weekend.” lol. totes classist. cisist. totes cisgender discrimination, talkin’ like that. the only reason any of you even think of these things is because of your retardo boxes. i know, it kills the suck. well, help me make it not suck then, asstards. it’s your world, and your life, so let’s fucking make it perfect already.
i have been doing this co-op thing since before i knew what it was. i did think of it as running for president for a long time, and seriously, what better short-cut to make it happen. fucking warp zone. oh, except for all that shit belongs to the tv-runners. the very people who make sure nothing changes. like it’s their job. it’s their job.
whenever i’m in pain for whatever reason, i start complaining at everyone for not, what? paying me? listening? voting for each and every thing you say? how would someone even do that? you know how difficult you are to talk to? am not even. *eyeroll* it depends entirely on the aura/attitude of the person asking. most these kids are terrified and lookin’ for a fight. i teach them how to win faster. chicago. my heart is totally in chicago. what does the nato protest have to do with anything? are you kidding? battle du jour? this is why erv would be nice, huh? thanks for all the help
see, fuck off with that shit. i’m hurting and lonely. so is everyone else. they have e-mail accounts. hey, leave the delusional retards alone. they like their crapitulatism, and when the cops round them up for fema camps, they’ll off themselves in the process. they want to clear all the properties, don’t they. what might be found? if we all checked ‘em all. i don’t care how yelly you get, sir. me an my people gonna have a look around. we got a judge right over there. ask her how she’d rule, and there’s your answer.
hey, so you know, when we have a neutral party present, “why won’t you acknowledge my presidential campaign?” will be my first question. oh, that’s not ever happening, huh. you’d rather i go away with the promise of never speaking to you again. or of not bringing word until/unless it involves significant property ownership. a job. who the fuck would hire a presidential lunatic whose own mother wouldn’t even speak to it about the campaign. you really have zero input? nothing to add? nothing to clarify? do you think i’m kidding? do you think i’d come back and laugh and say haha, i was only joking. i’m really running for governor. i told you, all the lesser included offenses, meaning i will perform the duties of any elected office for which i am eligible/elected. start me small, then. i don’t have residence anywhere, because none of you can stand to hear me. none of you with money. aww hell, nobody without money, either. at least not in person. overly direct. is that a male thing? no, that’s a dictator thing. so, american. yup. americans are dictators? most definitely. the collective story as of now, is the tv version. movies. all that for-profit, poison-and-plunder-with-no-end-in-sight magnificence that it crapitulatism. conflagurating again. prolly.
ok. what? who are you? what’s your role in this thing? i’m just a bit part in your tweeting? that’s boring. you can’t be any more creative than that? it isn’t either, leave her alone. what? listening to your rants is not an indicator of anything. i know. that’s why i’m asking what it is an indicator of. be interested in learning about permaculture and cooperatives, enjoy the occasional political rant, and want to be friends with me. whatever. i like having smily friends with nothing better to do, too. let’s make us something better for to do, eh? we can that much at least do, don’tcha think? wool cripes. we have to talk about real things at some point. you can’t keep your fat and expanding heads in the sand forever. is all i’m saying