And so the Clock Spring of the Cumulative Human Psyche Snaps loose again.

First off, yay.
Another shooting.
Just, what the utter fuck.
I mean, really, so soon after 50 people died in a shooting spree that spanned two mosques in New Zealand, some random ass hat goes on a shooting spree inside a fucking train in a Dutch town Utrecht.
No deaths so far, thank god.
Wish I had more to say on the matter, but I don’t.
Except, fuck these motherfuckers that think this shit is okay. It ain’t.
Also, I thought I had some amazing insights with that long ass title, but apparently, I have the honest to god insights of a blind chimp tazing a gimp in the sack with a cattle prod, and unironically, they’re handcuffed to each other, so trust me when I say, I feel your pain.
If you’re wondering about the title, the theory is this:

The solar system is a big fucking clock, yes, I swear, I ain’t apologizing! Lol?
Lol.
Anyways, let’s try this again!
Okay, so, think of humanity as biological, disconnected clock, with each category of human being a kind of piece in the great engine of said clock. The clock spring is the sanity level of the whole thing, and the cumulative human psyche is the clock spring that binds us all together, and, as you might have noticed at concerts, we’re kind of easilly lead in sing alongs. So take that initial example and replace singing along to crappy Nickelback songs with the potential for violence.
The looser the clock spring, the less chance there is for people to lose their shit, take bath salts, and rip their room mates heart through their asshole and eat it in the name of Cthulu to prevent the end times. The tighter wound the clock spring, the closer people are to simply losing their shit and doing the afore mentioned heart eating.
So, when the clock spring of the cumulative human psyche is wound too tightly, it snaps outwards, and whatever category of human it hits, and it takes a very specific category of human for this to happen, that person or persons will lose their shit, plan some violence, and in most cases by the end of it, take their own life.
To which I say, well fuck, less ass hats that do these kinds of things, the better.
So, the question remains, how long will this snapping out of the clock spring band take?
Well, unfortunately, its been going on for quite a while, and Donald trump getting elected, took most of the bat shit crazy momentum out of the damned thing and for two years, only stupid dumb things have happened since Donald’s absorbing most of the crazy being sent out.
So, I’m guessing this fucking thing has been going for a good ten years?
So, you’re thinking, where’s the proof?
What’s the evidence that this thing exists, even if its a theoretical metaphysical entity who’s presence is only ever felt when some crazy shit goes down?
Every mass shooting. (Large impact)
Every dumb ass Florida Man/Woman story you read. (small impact)
Every dumb ass fake anger about social media influencers (Small to medium impact)
Every fucking thing Trump has said/done/tweeted since birth (small impact, absorbs the impact)
Anything that has to do with out of the ordinary, boom, proof of the Clock Spring theory, and yeah, not the most scientific, but how can you be more scientific about some massive, theoretical, metaphysical thing in our lives?

Point being, shit be cray cray, and getting sometimes less or more cray cray, depending on what brand of cray cray we’re dealing with.

Impermanence: With the pull of a trigger

I normally don’t do scripted videos anymore, I like to be unfocused, let my mind wander. But for some reason, I can’t let this one go.
Too many dead.
Too much anger.
Too much is too much.
I’ve written scripts for videos on Mass shootings before, with the clear sight on anger, or confusion, or wondering just what the fuck is actually going on, and most of the time, it started off with anger, and then popped into a kind of cooled down rage.
Friday, Brenton Tarrant, Australian, and a former Gym Teacher who felt lost with the ideology instilled in him by his parents and society at large, who then went from place to place, trying to find something, anything that would fill his spiritual and ideological needs, went from bad to worse and finally landed on the White Nationalist ideology, and then took it one step further.
He planned a massacre with two other men and one woman.
Before he went about his merry fucked up way, Brenton wrote an 87-page manifesto filled with intolerance, hatred, and plain old racism, with phrasing in tune with ISIS, referencing Donald Trump, and calling for people to Subscribe to Pewdiepie for maximum damage beyond the scope of what a pulled trigger could do.
He carried it out, shooting and killing 50 Muslims worshipping at two mosques in Christchurch and another in New Zealand, and wounding twenty others as well, live streaming the whole 17-minute debacle through a streaming service, posting it on 8chan, and from there, the footage just spread like wild fire.
Please know that I fucking hate Brenton Tarrant, and any other person like him, someone who has lost their damned fucking mind, unsatisfied with their life, and clearly out of their damned mind. Someone who feels they need to take the lives of others in order for their own life, in their mind, to have any kind of worth.
New Zealand had been, until recently, inoculated from mass shooters because of its relatively small size and because it happens to be an island nation, yes, I know, but for simplicity sake, I’m calling it a island nation.
My focus and the effects of coffee don’t last as long as they used it.
Never the less, the response has been amazing.
Not long after the shooting, footage cropped up of New Zealand law enforcements beating the utter fuck out of Brenton, as all Law enforcement has the right to do to Mass shooters. At least, in my opinion.
Look, this isn’t easy for me to write, let alone keep my focus on, but I will say this, I’m not going to be one of those people who think that by not saying the person’s name or talking about it, you’re going to make the problem go away.
Know what that’s called? Digging your head in the sand.
Being a fucking Ostrich.
Don’t be a fucking Ostrich
Talk about the issue, talk about what the utter fuck is on your mind, stop hiding your opinion because that’s what the shooters want, if you stop talking about it, stop communicating, then how will we learn how to prepare?
I’m not one to be ashamed of my words, well, not anymore, when I state the following:
These past twelve years, in the scope of the sheer number of shootings, have been fucking horrific. Kids, teens, adults, men, women, old, young, civilian, former military, I mean, will it ever end?
The short answer is, no.
Not until we go the drastic route is making and slow and horrifying example out of the next one. I won’t go into detail, but dear god I REALLY want to.
Fuck it, let’s do this shit.
I think, we should televise the execution of the shooter, not in the classic way, not by the merciful bullet to the head or lethal injection, no, no, no, no, nooooo my friends. I think we should sit them down, and ask them one simple question:
We’re they able to get away with it, using whatever tools they had made available to them, and let them take as much time as they wanted to take their targets apart, what would they do, how would they go about it, how long would they take to get it done?
And how they responded?
Do the exact same thing to them, as per their own disgusting instructions.
Take them apart, piece by piece, as if the executioner was a mechanic, disassembling a car down its very bolts. Happen upon them what they would happen upon their targets.
Televise that shit, make it the only thing on.
Force people to watch.
Send the message that those who commit such acts on innocent lives will be dealt with in the same fashion, and their last words of disgusting intent be the words of their own undoing, and their last words will be of their own screams being cut short by the final merciful act of slowly, ever so slowly twisting their heads till they screamed like rabbits being prepped for the pot, their cries for mercy and understanding falling on deaf ears as their victims cries for mercy fell deaf upon theirs.
Tell them, in their final moment, that loved ones will not greet them, nor god, nor the devil. That their minds shall simply cease to be, their brains will shut down, and everything they ever knew will be nothing. Their body will lie, cold and in the dirt to be feasted upon and turned to compost by insects, and eventually all record of who they were shall be erased.
Whatever impact they held in life, will weigh as nothing in death.
The point being, and needing to move on to the next point of interest here, is that idiots are going to be idiots. That seems like a watered-down version of the thing I want to know, and knowing me, I’m going to say it somewhere else, but we need to do something about the chaotically unwinding clock spring of the collective Human Psyche. It’s snapped, and it aint stopping, yes, it’s slowed down some, and yes, Donald trump with his brand of crazy is absorbing the majority of the blows from this thing, but we need to figure out a way of stopping it completely.
The usual news cycle is going to play out, that Brenton’s a white nationalist, something broke in his head, thoughts and prayers are going to be flung out from across the world, and HOPEFULLY New Zealand makes good on its promise to change its gun laws, and from there, things will go the route they usually do.
Sad, but true.
And I don’t write those words easily.
I write them, knowing full well that lives were lost, families torn apart, sons and daughters will grow up never hearing their father and or mothers’ voices again, mothers and or fathers, brothers and or sisters, husbands and or wives will continue living on with a great hole in their lives where there was once comfort and joy.
We need to do better.
All of us.
In whatever capacity we can.
We need leaders that aren’t afraid of insulting their base when a tragedy strikes.
We need condemnation of Nazis.

All that we are.
All that we were.
All that we will ever be.
Within 200 years after our initial passing, everyone connected to us, all our works, all stories of our descendants, will be as nothing. Simply dust in the wind.
Data never to be viewed again.
Words never to read.
Voices never to be heard.
Within 200 years, if we’re lucky, and we’ve lived a life worth living, we will be remembered for that one spark of ingenuity that made us memorable.
All other details? Gone, until rediscovered.
If it sounds like I’m sucking the philosophical dick right now, that’s because I am. The Mosque shootings have gotten me thinking about the importance of things, the greater meaning behind it all, it’s kick started something in my mind that won’t let go, no matter how much I want it to.
Back in my twenties, when I was wild, free, not tied down by the twelve ton chains of the truth of life in general, that all actions, all words, all story lines, have been repeated countless times by countless others in one way or another, I had so many different theories about how humanity continued to be.
About how our seemingly infinite variety of facial and body designs, were in fact very limited in scope, and the only difference between you and that other, at least a hundred, at most ten thousand, other people who look almost exactly like you or had the exact same thought, interest, likes, dislikes, fears, and or non-fears like you were limited to that scope, because at our hearts, at our very cores, within that subset of values, we’re simply copies of people that came before us, and they, copies of people who came before them.
Yet, despite our similarities, what we share both mentally and or physically, the ways in which we go about achieving those interests, overcoming those fears, the technology we have access to changes with every cycle.

We are fucking amazing.

And yet, with the simple snapping of a mind, the spiral into the darker parts of the basic, primal, savage, lizard section of the human mind.
With the planning of the deaths of those incorrectly perceived to be threats to our own personal safety.
With the purchasing of weapons capable of carrying out such plans.
With the initiating those plans, aiming of those weapons, and the pulling of the trigger to take out those incorrectly perceived as threats, and the ending of those same lives…
Those copies of humans who came before, at least that particular lineage, for that person, if they do not have kids…
that persons story will end.
A kind of metaphysical, “BEGONE THOT!” moment.
We are only temporary, but the impact, the weight of what we, they, he, or she will have left behind can be felt immensely, as if to say, “Hear our voice echo throughout this mighty chamber, though I may be gone and my life now forfeit, my deeds, my actions, will haunt the ones that have done me wrong. For my soul was cast, not in the name of evil or good, but somewhere in the middle, so as I might choose my own path. Here my actions thunder throughout creation, for my name be but spoken, and judgement will come thundering down upon the that poor soul.”
Impermanence: Temporary.

How will you make your impact on history last eternal?

I want to tell you something, though… it might not make sense.

Shootings and the POTUS: Theorized connection of one crazy outweighing the other.

A while back, I wrote something about the socio-psychological clockspring of the psyche of the American people being wound as tight as it can possibly go, and when the rash of shootings, the most traumatic being those of Sandy Hook Elementary, where, for reasons unknown, Child Killer, as he will be referred to, stole the lives of 16 children… the numbers might’ve been a little fudged on my part. Anyways, the snap back hasn’t stopped, or slown down, in the least.
If anything, it’s gaining speed, and force in the form of donald trump, who’s own level of insanity is absorbing most of the blunt force from the socio-psychological snapback of the tail of the clock spring.
Think about it.
And no, still a very good supporter of covering him in honey and rolling him in a pile of cracked out fire ants. He may be the president, but he’s always been Donald “I like getting pissed on” Trump.
Anyways, for a minute, I want you to think about life without trump in office, without that “Shield of insanity” how many other shootings would have gone on?
how of those would be newsworthy?
The fact of the matter is, the only way I’m even remotely glad the glow in the dark fuck nut is in office, IS because the pool of potential shooters is a very small percentage of his support base, and, while this might sound crazy as there’s only been one shooting we’ve been notified about, the Pool-o-shooters is satiated, having their crazy ass idol be in office has cooled their angry, itchy trigger fingers for something more poisonous and yet somehow less lethal, Twitter arguments defending his royal annoying orange, the POTUS.
I’m not defending either I’m just saying, that without one, there’d be a lot more of the other, and without the other, we’d all be happier. But without both, there would be fucking peace on earth.

On a more serious note, the news of the Aurora Shooting didn’t really shock me, as it did remind me that no matter how high the level of crazy is, there will always be a HIGHER level of crazy.
And hwile this sounds like some kind of idiotic conspiracy theory, you have to wonder…

Hotdogs and Buns: The Evil Equal Conspiracy

Why hotdogs and hotdog buns are now equal in number, because I just can’t figure that shit out.
I swear to god, and yes I’m changing the subject, because I got bored of whatever it was I was talking about…. chimichangas or something, all I know is that I’m hungry, and easily distracted, so the fact that i’m still writing this is a fucking god send.

Unfinished Writtiness: Drafts of Posts Past

Y’know, I’ve got around five or ten half finished drafts that might never see the light of day? Not because I didn’t want to publish them, it’s just that I got distracted by games, girls, and being pissed off at Fortnite because….

Fuck Fortnite: Here’s why

I don’t know. I just really hate fortnite.
Yet I keep playing the damned thing, it’s fucking weird, the only modes I like playing are playground and creative where you just BUILD shit. That and when I fill the lobby, I always hide from the others and mislead them as to where I actually am.
Fun!
Because I don’t like losing, and the only way to win, is to fucking wait till everyone gets bored, which, believe me, is as fucking boring as you would think it is, so I try to keep myself entertained by fucking with people’s heads about where I am, and I take a RIDICULOUS amount of pleasure upon hearing their annoyed voices as for the twentieth time they ask me where I am.

By the power of Glitchskull: I HAVE THE ONE SHOT

Because let’s be honest here? I suck at playing games, hell the only reason I play open world games is to find and kill everything that I can, exploit the game mechanics and glitches and buggy areas to maximize my chances at winning, and ultimately, prove how much of a fucking one shot power whore I can be to the biggest baddies in the game based SOLELY on how well I’ve prepared myself!
Because, yes, I’ll play games the right way for a while, and theeeeeeeen I’ll get bored and just fuck around till I basically have an overpowered character.
I suck at multiplayer games, and single player games make me feel powerful.
Because multiplayer makes me feel how I do in real life, and fuck that bullshit.

You know, I might actually have ADHD… Weird, oh well.

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