holy fuck.  fuckles.  another entirely uncaring moonlit ride.  you’re on a bike, you’re on your own.  or, stop talking.  do complainers conglomerate?  or is it poor people.  realizing the inevitable collapse of this thing to which they’re indebted.  the futility of its purported utility.  we advocate learning about the world around you.  who are you people?  how did you get near me?  i passed a class-full of small children being led down the block by teacher/chaperone-looking types.  blown-ups.  many smiles.  yeah, i’m still wearing the miley pants i slept in.  what of it? (11:06 am)

this was my election day outfit.  i do outfits.  i laugh at my own, also.  how the fuck else do i enjoy this retarded life i designed.  by typing and drinking delicious coffee, delivered by kind people who know me pretty well.

it’s not a harem!  i mean, wanna join my harem?  it’s not really mine.  it’s more like a consensus union of capable humans.  yes, there are a few of us girls that still have peni.  penissess.  whatever.  once body-transfer technology works, i will be a real doll.  lol.  better than a haul-o-gramme.  pfft.

so, right.  election day.  vote.  every vote counts.  no, it doesn’t.  and, for people like me, who can’t verify an address, you can’t vote.  look at the fucking criteria.  it has nothing to do with whether you exist as a living person, only whether you participate in the financial system.  that shit is blatant classism, ageism (post-college movers, anyone?).  fucking liberals forward that shit around with recommendations that those who satisfy the government-mandated criteria to the polls.  way to embolden the fascists.

i’d have to go back to waupaca, and fuck that town.  seriously.  have sex with anyone from waupaca, because that town is full of old assholes and more sex is undoubtedly the best thing for helping them survive that dirty, noisy town.  i protest the forced use of cars, too.  no, i’m not going to have union cab drive up here from madison to deliver me to waupaca.  they probably would.  i know about elections.  you’re voting on voting machines.  that means, unless you take your own trustworthy exit polls and those are vastly different from what actually happens, the eTotals will stand.  you may never know the truth, or the horrible truth may be that you truly are the brain-dead zombies of my nightmares/family.  remember to watch the returns on tv, because the internet delivers them immediately, and silently.  love that drama.  you tv addicts sicken me.

i’d be making videos constantly if i had anyone to work with.  join my fucking business, you worthless fucking slaves!  i don’t call you slaves, nor do i treat you as that.  it’s a very golden-rule kind of arrangement.  and, my standards for gentleness, non-judgment of the misunderstood (you are allowed to ask. ONCE.), and strict, immediate notification of severity of infraction.  i like that word.  let’s examine that at its root. fractal.  in-fract-ion is a segment that betrays the fractal?  if sharing survival is the universal, stated mission, to act contrary to it, is non-fractalline.  in-fraction.  also, fractions.  a half.  a third.  five-eighths.  in small towns, the patrons of small towns don’t change that much.  hell, in large towns, you merely get the interaction between those who have lived there all their lives, who will frequent these establishments regardless of ownership, and who have learned to interact with the internationals.  being around internationals is essential for remembering that they exist, and that we are their examples.  all of the times.  it’s not a wonderful thing to think about, unless you make it.  there is one philosophy that you fuck up in front of your kids as much as possible.  as you have prepared them to learn from your mistakes, they continue to learn as you continue to isolate yourself.  for the love of god, don’t let yourself end up like that.  there’s a kindness in that.  the “dad” on angels in the outfield who gives his kid up to the state.  that’s an honest admission.  fuck the society that prevents the easy transfer of people to the households where they are to serve.  whatever function they serve.

courtroom scene.  so, i have had something like that, but clingier, like a wet blanket that says doubtful, awful things.  you know, the kind of people who revel in terrible weather, talking about it, driving in it.  so, having that as my examples of “adult” interactions, and tv, of course, i turned into this.  the all-knowing, zero-communicating, i can do everything better than all of you put together, and then i’ll let you run it once it’s done.  seriously, shut the fuck up and listen.  oh, you are?  that was for the last time you wouldn’t let me talk by yelling entirely useless and/or negative things in the same room as me.  fuck that shit.

chair-dancing to tanlines – real life “oh ah oh oh.”

there’s a residual motion after sound ends.  anyone who has seen me dance at shows can verify this.  for one, the next song will start quickly, with a band that respects your time and knows their banter means other people can be heard, too.  i thought we were doing the courtroom scene.  it was a line.  “i think this whole proceeding is shit, < air-quote-curtsey > your honor </air-quote-curtsey>, and i’d rather be ANY FUCKINGWHERE ELSE right now.”  there was more.  i know, i can’t remember it.  well, whatever.  this whole operation is a piece of shit.  the scripts go out in disconnected lines, no producers have been hired, and the only people who have seen me naked in the last 3 years are looking at me over the internet.  no, not even a kiss.  i must have enough memories stored up to get me through the lean times.  i’m like a camel.  filling those tanks back up takes a while, though.  this is why we have teams.  i wouldn’t put that on any one person.  they’d need as little self-respect or desire to interact with their friends, family, and the public as me.  seriously, set up the continuous internet feeds of incoming sounds and video, and outgoing sounds and video.  our honeymoon would make us popular, as if we weren’t already.

are there a hundred?  i don’t know the membership.  what?  yeah, they decide whether they’re in, but they don’t tell me.  so i pretty much have to assume everyone is.  what?  i don’t care how little you think of yourself, it’s not less than how i think of me, and i don’t bite unless you ask me to, or bite me first.  in-kind.  ok, i may have jokingly bit a few people, but i don’t think i drew blood.  look.  all feral animals are dangerous, if you provoke them.  if you let them go through their pathetic, starving days, they’ll probably dance to the musics and voices in their heads.  it might even be entertaining to watch.  fucking job-havers.

are there any of those?  it’s the low boundaries, isn’t it.  once i would start talking to you, or merely by interacting with me (no talking would be required), you’d understand, and start teaching the rest of your crew.  oh, i know you have a crew.  all the muses have crews.  how do you think they survive.  my biggest fan terrifies me.  i sleep in the room directly above him.  i would rather sleep in a warmer, more occupied bed.  maybe then i’d be wearing different clothes the next time i walk into your coffee shop.  benefits everywhere in fixing the me.  custom human shell.  what.ever. the. fuck, you retards could be voting for me, today.  pull your goddamn heads out of your asses.  i haven’t been eating well, please send bitcoins.  nobody has those.  0฿189902 (eureaka!  i’m using the thai baht symbol ฿ as the decimal point to signify bitcoins.  practice.  coinnn’d! [best]) is approximately equal to a dollar.  percentages, babies!

so, mathbrain, if 0 ฿189901782798 (bitcoins) is $1 (one dollar), slide the decimal twice and 0 ฿001899 is worth a penny.  i was gonna say a shiny copper penny, but most of the pennies aren’t solid copper any more, and most are pretty disrespected and dirty.  if i set up the money system, the smallest edible thing would cost a penny.  then, i’d melt down that fucker and use it in erv4’s electrical system.  what?  why mine the copper we already got?  i know, it’s a feudal orfence.

see, other people have already proposed what i just said, and another currency uses its placement as the decimal.  why can’t the standard way of thinking of something teach us a new way of thinking?  it must.  it will.  it shall.  it does.  i very much dislike the web pages that load one image per page, making you have to load new ad banners to see six pictures.  profit-driven idiocy is wasteful.  where the hell is my modular internet?  you people and your padding.  fuck.  pack those words in like an undergrad survey cheat-sheet.  you know, a legal one.  that’s a good study strategy.  ah, whaddaU know from comedy.

₮₮₭₥.  i need a new name.  help me find my name.  tavie? or a symbol. Ѫ.  how badass would that be?  there is no pronunciation for my name.  you can only write or sign it.  yes, like an asl sign, ⒝

facebook is the usual vote-or-die suspects.  pretty writers.  and me.

those are my reports from the f[r]ont.  i don’t know what else to tell ya.


~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2012-06-5 (Tuesday).

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