WTF

Morgan:
Cherish not the thought of horribleness, but strangle the fear pillow of dixon 9… where shit scrawled on walls never updates nor shrinks in the face of adverisity! I am green, but I have a blue mask and face it not to the east.

The Shitposting Hermit:
what

Morgan Gavin:
Trust the god of the green, for the Bue is not True, and the Red must end the blood streak of the tenth moon!

King:
whaat???

Morgan Gavin:
for what dream may shit upon the nightmare of others, for does not good strangle the fears of evil while the dreams are infants? Still screaming to the assignments of failed glue sticks? That which dreams not of the elvel ten, that which screams the blood moons of the florf may not Grasp even the strandiest strands of the Golden Strands of psychobabbli! FEAR THE FEAR PILLOW! As it smothers the courage that no not of the courage blanket that covers the fear pillow! thomas the Train is an agent of the Nightmares of police! for what hidden tension lay beneath that smile, so innocent, so benign, for only a psychosis of pikagirl pokeworld! Pika pika pika pika! Tenth level NOOOOOOOT, Noot noot noot, TO THE FUCKING TWITLONGER or was it q? maybe it was seven? Or twelve? Or maybe flower? Potato? It’s potato.

The Shitposting Hermit:
fear pillow… what

Morgan Gavin:
what if pokeballs were secretly waffle irons? HOW DARE YOU GRILL THAT PICHU!

King:
shut your soul

Morgan Gavin:
You shut yours! The tenth moon of the second ring will shut it for you! We scream out at the deliverance of the Fear pillow, we scream and shed the feathers of darkness to embrace our inner Emo Robot!

thy_undying: The crimson king will rise from its crypts

Morgan Gavin:
For the Emoji movie will be withus, no matter the cost of our very souls! Shall the abandoned Emoji of broken Nokia phones haunt us to our very graves and beyond!? The Crimson king doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the emoji movie. our Lord and savior! Beyond the edginess of My Name J.E.f.f… Justice Education Fantastic Four

thy_undying:
the candle will burn the oozing mold from those cursed emojis

Morgan Gavin:
the ooze will scream in repulsion as the Grim Iron Reaper will without its fart of reverance for you, BEWARE THE FART OF REVERANCE FOR YOU WILL DRAMA ALERT YOU PANTS! epidermis be sworn!

The Shitposting Hermit:
what the hell

Morgan Gavin:
Don’t fear the shittier poster!

thy_undying:
the sharp edge of the scythe, will cut the weak from the soil

Morgan Gavin:
for the Undying will love the forliving with the furious batter ram of syco the wunderhound! May his eternal butt sweep be our undoing! for the Fear Pillow will smother everything that the Courage blanket hates, and the evil screams by swept unto the old mans rug of determination… ALL WILL FAIL THE SANS TEST OF NO MERCY!

The Shitposting Hermit:
praise KEK. brother!

thy_undying:
The love for the undying will be long forgotten in the deep depths of hell

Morgan Gavin:
The Kermit Eternrnal Kevil

thy_undying:
undone by those beyond our grasp

Morgan Gavin:
The Kevil will be more evil than Evil or kevin combined, for their Paint cans of mercy will condemn the souls of the wet bandits to a sacrificial alter of blood letting and glitter bombs!

thy_undying:
the rug will be lifted out from under

The Shitposting Hermit:
“wet”… “Bandits”… why the fuck? what the fuck is an wet bandit

Morgan Gavin:
Are you ignorant of the plight of those left Home alone?

thy_undying:
the bandit will fall, trip upon his own feet, kneel down to a blood God

Morgan Gavin:
The micromachines of depression lead to the flame thrower of defiance, while the spider and hair gel of fear and rasping death will cling to your face, never letting go, as the nail of self preservation drives itself into your foot, giving you the tetnus of shame!

thy_undying:
The spiders and their vast webs, pulling the strings from behind

Morgan Gavin:
And fans of grime will blow the feathers of desolation unto the unwilling, there, they will be tripped and flung into the forboding basment of freezing, it will be there that the Kevil will hold the falling iron of the Rapture to your face, and leave amrk of shame and lo, thy Fear Pillow will shame you to know end in your ignorance of filth and degradation! FOR THEE SHALL INHERIT NONE BUT THE SACRIMENT OF THE TWELVE GODS OF BAD SEQUELS AND SHAME YOUR POOPCORN SHATTING WAYS. NOOT NOOT MOTHERFUCKER

The Shitposting Hermit:
the twelve gods of bad sequels are best gods. i unironically worship a meme god

thy_undying:
Raptured beyond saving, with a pillow case over what remained of their pride. The popcorn pops when the fat man sings.

Morgan Gavin:
I AM THE FORSAKEN MEMESON, DELIVERED BY THE MEME GOD TO CRAMP THE STYLE OF FURRIZORDS

thy_undying:
A song of death, to who gained the right they asked in the end of days.

The Shitposting Hermit:
chin chin the god of darkness. kek the god of creation and jakepaulus the cancer god

Morgan Gavin:
And lo, the seventh sigil be lit by the nightlight of leg cramps, and screams shall know not the ways of man, as the digital download and micro transactions shall bleed various bank accounts dry of their illgotten gains, so sayeth the Memson, of thy crushed candy

thy_undying:
All will kneel to a lie spoken by the unjust. Rain their wallets, and goods upon the crushed souls(edited)

The Shitposting Hermit:
J-I-N-G-L-E-J-A-N-G-L-E… Jinglejangle!!

Morgan Gavin:
And those with ashes upon their darkened souls will shutter the skeletons of legions past, the Ashen o

thy_undying:
The Legions might is flawed, with loyalty questioned and irrational choices. The keeper of the gate remains unfazed. They are here calling a name

Morgan Gavin:
Lead not those into temptation, but scream apart fro mthe hidden horrors that scream of rolling out, and may the Gumminess Bear, its wailing screams and death wails as it quivers and bounces, its death whale calling to a finite desperation… May the relevance of the hate fox know only the clown ad the cynical gnome, or may we forever be haunted by the Finaff King, his many colored hair and twirled mustache becoming and horrendous fan fiction, to which our souls know only death and damnation!

His mem, hs legend live on in the second adpocolypse, brought to a fidget spinning end by the fire addicted, clown themed, cynical gnome, who knows all secrets, and drinks of the Gi Feyuel, which burns as brightly, knowing only the souls of the tormented may truly bring him closer ot the ultimate fruition of hell unleashed, the chains only cursed links melted together in a serious knot of confusion of tubes powered by the hell cats of grumpiness!

thy_undying:
Gummy bears decapitated, on the executioner’s block. A laugh, a grin, by the spectators. Wailing arms in the air. The gods witness this event, such strong hatered for the demons which mask in candy. Chocolate rivers run dry. The canes of candy hanging the unworthy.

Morgan Gavin:
Spread the link of the chaos meme, and suffer the riches, piled onto the weight of your mind, infested by the fear pillow and smothered of oxygen by the creative curses of the irrelevant through which known shall ever know of the Trumpism and the he will not divide us chant, that through the tenth kingdom of hellish insanity shall we ever known the Con Khan Network and scream out Shatnered memes through which none are truly safe, or hath been cursed by the Druidic Ethereal fallicies which plague only the Over Watched butt of the Tracer! Can no leage of Legends stand to the trials and trails of the Roadhog, fermented meat, left in the sun and smothered with the defecation and diseased drool boiled to a thick soup that only the Sithian dungeons can keep twisting in the winds!?

And lo, again, in the ninth kingdom of the Golden Sunmoon, the desert sands will shift to the Snow of Jons and Garfields, his eternal tormentor and consumer of lasagna, a strange mystical treat created through the grinding and smashing of meath and tomotos, pa plague infested book of faces, called only to activate when the Necronomicon of passwords is forgotten, and thy Google of youTubian failures may enter a hack and slash game of Keemcynical proportions!

thy_undying:
Tracing the fingers which cling onto the images of laughter or to be silly. Kingdoms melt away in the wind when the legends speak of cheap tricks. Such decay when they sing of sunshine and rainbows. The Snow of john indeed knows nothing. Swining a sword at the dead that walk. Such a fool he be. In the frozen seas, the Slash man threw his axe upon the soaking puddle. Such thunder, echoes into the horizon. Necronomicon spreads the images across the landscape, infesting the wicked. Our backs ache by the hollowed. The lost.

Morgan Gavin:
Cursed by none, wanted by all, the curse of the Fear Pillow and the Abomination of the Universe, the Puppy Monkey Baby, the unwanted one, the freak of genetic tampering, science cursed by the evils of the four chans of old, back to the before days, the lords of cinder and repentance knowing no mercy as the tenth sign and sigil of the Adpocolypse lords a destructive force of unrecognizeable proportions upon our souls, driving us to the brink of insanity with its very presence!
A purge of anger, a purge of violence, a purge of bad memes, forced into existence against their will, taken flight and form against their creators shall rummage through the everlasting cursed forms of physical sentience, coding of ones and zeroes, twos and threes shall form and reform into the creations upon which none hath asked for and yet all shall scream unto the blind fires of old, “Have ye mercy!?” And the kings of Memes and their Memesons shall scry unto the unfortunate few, “Leggo my eggo”\

thy_undying:
Abominations plagued puppies they be. Crawling, dragging its frail limbs. The cinder is warm, unrelenting. An unstoppable force. They stand idly by, whilst the purge is upon us.

Morgan Gavin:
And thine eggo shall have been let go, as millions of pictures, doctored to initiate a fourth purge into the tenth kingdom shall unleash a torrent of sad depressed bookface pages, a slew of unwarranted and unwanted criticiysm for the hattering of the tenth reality plague, no, they shall see their works mocked and made to be as flickering shadows, that which screams for a lack of a better word, the “Sleepless in Seattle” Brought forth by the army of Sean Connerys appearing into the Ranks of Jeopardy, and the Nicholas Cages in wooden bear costumes, infiltrated by the beehives of shame and disbelief, shall go to the center of madness, and none shall know if their works are truly good or not, as the quality of dimensions presented there within are none but predetermined fixtures into the horrid flaws of humanities core values.

The Shitposting Hermit:
sean connery is best

Morgan Gavin:
And none in the Ninth kingdom of the golden sunmoon shall know which way to go, and instead, use a flawed apple maps to take portrate videos, which shall piss the resto f us off, as we send forth the Memesons and Memefathers of old to the eighth kingdom, where a peanut butter jar with an oft repeating loop of time, in which a silent Leonardo Dicaprio shall be mauled by a bear while declaring himself the king of the world, but his world shall sink, and he shall claim for a rose to never let go, but the roots shall know only the dampened sunlight and the weak nutrients, and hath let him has a tiny golden statue after so many years.

thy_undying:
Eggs crack upon the orbiting bowl, in the centre. Caged the Nicholas in a confined space. A lost of control, independence. A hound at the rattled cage, “Woof”. No one is a hero in this sorrow tale, only those who believe themselve to be whole.

Morgan Gavin:
To seek the plains of madness, they shall travel through a demented real of misery and bad remakes, infested with flaws and sins, which only a select few shall truly understand the tone of mockery and satire, to the seventh kingdom of the foolish and repository of badly over used memes, the mynameisjeff shall scry only to those of souls most ripped fresh fro mthe bloated carcasses of dementors, where thy harry potter fanship shall burn with fury as no more scrolls of magical boy wizards are fraught with fanservice, and no shipping of boy wizard verus dark forboding shall happen. For only the rule of law shall scry them to the Anime Weeabu culture shock that Anime is not a Cartoon, but rather a sacred art unto which only the Hehachi Miazaki Clan shall rise to be the king of fighters!

No, they shall too be plagued by the cloned failure of the two, and the rise of the Sean Cagery shall be born, weighed down by the anger and confused chaos that only seems possible in a twisted nightmare realm, in which no one shall truly know what the fermented rage pillow covers they are saying, nor if they are truly good or not. Maybe, the souls of the twisted ones, the animatroni shall see an end to the fictious misrepresentations of those lost and damned, and soon, the eternal war of spite and greed shall seek to be of a never ending end, and the rule of fine dust shall be imposed, but none shall ever really know what the fuck is actually going on!

thy_undying:
Isenguard is a large fortress beyond our reach. Cannot be seen by consaulting maps. No King or Queen of Potter. A boy is not lost in the anime. Wizzard laws brake the rules of men, decieving the wise. “Ho ho ho” the fat man sits upon his wooden throne. Twisted by madness.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

I was thinking about the grand scope of the universe and why it was the squirrels get the best stick in life, like an ACTUAL fucking stick, I mean, if it were an actual FUCKING STICK that’d be questionable, because then you’d see sweet old ladies screaming for their lives with bags of broken crackers, all the while a fuck ton of squirrels with oddly bloody twigs would be chasing her, and you KNOW shit’s about to go down when you see that kind of bullshit happen.

I once saw an octopus. No reason really, it was just there, and I was having the time of my life just looking at this fucking thing, and I was like, “Hey, octopus.” And the thing did say a word, because it has an ass mouth. That’s right, you heard, Octopi have ass mouths, they can be masters of talking shit, because of their ass mouths, and there’s nothing you or I can really do about it.

There’s such a thing as redundant torture, where you do something utterly inane to someone else over a large or short period of time, and they’ll finally be all, “Hey, what the fuck.” All calm like, but you know deep down they’re sad.
Or… something, I don’t fucking know.

Maybe we’re all just in a simulation and the robots are the real players here, because that’d be absolutely amazing, if ready player one wasn’t about the time space-continuum because a vacation inditing the mass roach riot of 20:14 military time, because I like fucking with people’s perception of things every now and then. It’s just a thing I do, you know how I know? Because you aren’t me, and even if you were, I’d still be the one writing this fucking thing, so you can’t stop me no matter who you are!
Yes, I ripped that from Ace venture, which is honestly my favorite movie of all time.

I don’t wonder why time traveling eggs don’t time travel, they’d be too chicken by the end of it. Ha.

Dumb jokes for smart people include:
1. My dating life.
My hair line.
The fact I more famous than a regular potato.
Every knows a regular potota. Or potato.
Fuck pototas. They’ve done nothing for humanity.

Those assholes.
This blog was brought to you by the overwhelming need to fuck around on the interenet and write some weird bullshit that’ll make you question if I’m high or not.
I am 6″5 or six foot five inches. Why does my jaw feel like a peice of toast ready to pop the fuck out of a toaster? Oh yeah, gravity. I keep forgetting that’s a thing.
Kinda like Brangolina. Or Bracheal.
Or Bennigan’s.

Technology! it’s a good thing!

Or… maybe not, it all depends on what you’re looking for. Really, look, I get it, you’re looking for quality, meme producing content, or you might be a blog snob, but fear not, for I give zero fucks, and you my friend, are in the right place after all! Sometimes i wonder if the things we think about are the things we should be focused on,. Lemme explain y’all something, right?
Okay, so the things we focus on aren’t exactly the things we need to focu on at the moment, because there are tons of other things going through our heads at any one point in time, it’s a combination of douche fuckery that’s both entertaining and dissuading at the same time, and I get it.
You have a set schedule and limited shit to do, but for me, something that might need to be focused on is suddenly and irrevocably distracted by some idiot wondering into my field of view or just a dumb ass random action which will invariably cause a mediocre avalanche or other things and…. well, nothing will get done.
I’m starting to think I might have ADHD, or maybe my blank mind is so zen that, well, I float like a butterfly and fuck like a bee…
Wait, that’s not how that saying goes, but fuck that, let’s move on to whatever random and mind fumblingly dumb bull shit we seem to have forgotten about or moved onto today, shall we?
Because that’s the law of averages, and sometimes, you just need  that fluff and filler to vacuum out the smarter shit in your life.
Those who know me and have had conversations with me while I’m in my unfiltered or unfocused state, kind of like a flashlight with courgettes, or however that words spelled, will no doubt have had one of those moments, where nothing makes senses, but at the same time, you’re like, well, this is different, let’s give it a go!

And that’s what I’m all about, the random ,the mystifying, the weirdly dumb and sometimes funny. Because while yes, I could do what the rest of the world likes, and follow one stream of thought or another on how many fucking selfies I need to take with various filters colors or stupid manufactured bull shit, that’s… not what I’m about. I can’t handle all that prep just for a single picture that will invariable be ignored by the majority of social Media addicted brain slugs that crawl among us, hidden in their own ethereal covens of giggles coffee, and tiny mustaches. I have a BEARD DAMN IT!

And that beard is like a sex magnet, if… that were only the case and I could stay focused long enough to actually try and be a sex magnet.

Let me tell you about the God of All Things, Randy. that was a weird as fuck segway, but I swear, everything will connect on a level you never saw coming, and this is why I continue to only get a few interaction on my blog at a time.

Randy is a magician at what he does, but lemme tell about something else entirely, why? Because I take a few weeks to finish blog posts for some reason, and my cats keep doing the thing, oh shit! I forgot to get the laundry started, annnnnd that’s now a thing.
but more then that is the concept of loving who you are or what you are.
Males?
We got the dick ball combo, nothing wrong with that, that’s just how we’re built.
The Ladies?
Y’all got boobs, vagina, and the uterus, which, in all honesty, put y’all one step ahead of us… I think.
Okay i’m going to talk about this, because I’m kind of tired of the whole mentality that guys are taking a step back in media, cause we’re riding the same wave as you girls, and y’a know what? it goes around the sun, and no matter what, Furbies are still fucked.

They truly are fucked in the head, little adorable creatures that for no real reason will start yapping their plastic asses off because that’s EXACTLY what I want to hear in the middle of the morning, that sweet sweet release of, “ME LOVE YOUR SOUL!”

Yeah, that’s kind of fucking priceless right there. THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT PEOPLE! Like and subscribe if you feel the need to validate my existence, which I know you don’t!
Because free will is willingly free, or we’d all be paying a subscription fee, which I think we already kind of do, since you know, Amazon Prime and all of that, but that’s neither here nor there, I use a lot of the same sayings from time to time don’t I?
Shit, now i’m a bit self conscious, but there’s smoke and fire, sometimes you’ll find a hobo whacking it with lighter while smoking a soggy cigar.
Why?
Cause that’s how this shit sometimes rolls y’all!
We got to keep it real, or virtual, because sometimes what’s being read or written isn’t really what’s being said. Because then we’d all be taken way the fuck too literally and there’s nothing wrong with that, if you can call that living.
Actually, on the topic of living, is there such a thing as too much living? I think there is, like, really living. Cells multiplying more than they should, but relatively speaking, I think that’s just called cancer.
But why is cancer called cancer?
doesn’t that feel a bit ironic for peeps who are Cancers via the astrological sign, who get cancer, and they’re like, “Well, HA!?” And that just sets up the whole domino effect of what ifs by comparing similar words to similar situations, all though I could be wrong about that.

god, I miss just being about to write whatever comes to mind, because then it’s such a freeing experience, you don’t have anyone tripping balls in your general direction and yes, I know!

this was such a promising blog post, and then the stinginess of the topic went away and I started being myself!

How fucking weird is that!?

Anyways, I’ve just reached 1030 words totals on this thing. Time to post for no reason.

 

Little side projects

You ever have one of those aha! moments where something’s going on in your head, your not sure what, and then before you know it, boom! Instant weirdness? Well I get like that almost all the time, I don’t know what it is? Perhaps it’s a lack of mental stimulation that’s causing the subconscious to reach out to the consciousness and be all “WHAT UP BITCHES, IMMA BE OUT!”
Or maybe it’s just that mental stimulation is the grease that moves the gears of innovation towards the inevitable conclusion of reinventing the wheel?
Of course, reinventing the wheel is just… making another type of wheel isn’t it?
I mean, look, it’s a fucking wheel, a round thing, a circle at it’s base, you can’t just be all, “Look honey, I can make a trapezoidal rectangle into a rhombus like structure with the matrices of a honey-bear and THAT shit’s going to get me to work  five seconds faster than my regular wheels!”
“Ok honey, I believe you.”
No, one does not simply reinvent the fucking wheel, you can only make another slightly better version of the wheel.
Can you invent something else to replace the wheel?
Yes you can, hovercraft, helicopters, anti-gravity, and furbies are prime example of someone going, “Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a thing many people use, let’s see if we can’t make that thing even better!”
Or in the case of furbies, even worse.
No asked for you, and yet you’re still here.
You furry fucking nightmare machine.
The reason why I bring this up is the idea that all things that require some form of manual labor will eventually fall to automation, unless the system that requires the human element is somehow renovated, streamlined, and made even better than that automated system.
The problem here is the willingness of that human element to work as fast, or if not faster than said automated system.
Yes, going to leave you hanging there.
Nope, someone smarter can figure out the rest.
Yes, you bloody well knew what you were getting into when you clicked this link.

Love, love, love

I’m going to unlock a stupid door.
Why’s it stupid?
Because for the longest time I’ve tried shutting it, and there’s no point in trying to resist holding the stupid door shut.
So, let’s talk about love, and just like that, we’re off to the races!

First off, I don’t believe in the societal boundary that love in the workplace won’t work, It’s kind of a dumb thing.
Maybe people just want to fuck and forget?
Maybe they don’t?
Maybe they want something, anything, really something that’ll keep them from losing their damned minds, and love’s pretty much the only thing that’ll do the trick.
Weird thing is, no matter what corporate Earth tries to dangle the sharp stabby stick of “This is my truth, not THE truth” in front of us, we can’t help but be human, and… want to fuck. I mean, c’mon, that’s just human, mammalian nature to want to meet someone that knocks it out of the park for you.
The reason why it’s so weird for me to talk about is because of my history with it. When I’m in love, I’m the happiest, greatest person in the world (Or  it seems that way to me.), when I’m out of it, it’s almost like there’s a part of me missing, almost like a secret shame that I’m not in a relationship.
Also, my self confidence because shit for some reason.
Love is one of those things that can either make or break a person, almost like the reason you’re doing those things, the reason you’re trying to accomplish those tasks, even if they originally were started of your own gumption, while in love, that other person because almost the sole motivating factor.
Is it because we’re trying to impress them?
Or is it just a matter of personal accomplishment, like, “I did this great thing, do you love me more for it?”
It’s kind of strange when you think about it.
Or, at least, it’s strange for me to think about it, almost like I recoil from it, almost.
Well! That’s enough bitching for one post.

Okay, I can do this.

For those expecting some kind of massive reveal, or brightly written article about dumb ass photo filters, Y’all can stop right the hell there, cause I ain’t that guy, in fact, if I were to say anything, I’d think that whatever words I’d come up with would be a product of a heavily distracted mind, already discontent with the way the natural world seems to thrive on honey basted bullshit.
And yes, I’m talking about that fucked front page, where everything seems to be driven by the idiocy that we’ve inherently created by gradually dumbing ourselves down intellectually and wow, intelligent, insightful dumbassery already.
You know, sometimes I even surprise myself? And yet, here we are, still on this planet with our souls clearly enraptured by the use of intelligent and worthless paragraphs which are clearly nothing more than fluff for what few informational sentence words your brain eyes are mind reading!
Yes, fuck your expectations!
fuck them hard!
Like… really fuck them hard.
You… naughty expectations.
Anyways, I had a bit of a weird weekend, and yeah, I’m going to talk about this, or at least continually fluff shit up because that’s what I’m good at! I say a lot without saying much, and maybe this is just a product of my already distracted mind as I repeat shit I’ve written before?
Fuck it, we’re going live with this.
Apparently, a Florida woman stabbed a man with a squirrel.
Let that shit sink in.
Getting stabbed.
With a fucking squirrel.
Do you know how fucking monster you have to be to pull that off?
As we all know, squirrels, along with most other small, adorable, nut stealing woodland critters are f lobby and not prone to let anything touch them…
This world… It’s people… With a squirrel.

Fucknuggets.

Some days aren’t great, but I ain’t about to fuckin talk bout that shit, let everyone talk about that shit, Imma talk about… well, now I can’t rightly say, or maybe I can, but I don’t want to, so I might not be able to say what I was about to say before the moment where I could’ve said something about something else but now, this is just a recurring loop of broken ideas and stupid logic.
Everyone has stupid logic.
Even birds.
Yes birds, birds have stupid logic.
Not like stupid human logic, but stupid bird logic.
Squirrels are just fucking stupid, regardless of level of intelligence. But don’t discount sharks.
Fuck sharks.
And spiders.
And clowns.
Actually, fuck any and all combination of the three of those things, because any and all of them are just bad.
really bad.
So bad it makes you think that no matter what, you’re about to find out some shit that don’t make sense, but desperately need to because in a way, Earnest Hemingway did not drink enough.
But then again, stupid Squirrel logic infects everything we do on a level never before seen.
I have not zoomed out.
Not, I have zoomed out, don’t ask why I haven’t zoomed out, maybe I was zoomed in?
Maybe I wasn’t? Maybe I couldn’t be zoomed out or in to save my life, or maybe there’s a need to be more zoomed in than out in this day and age where being zoomed in has more an impact meaning than one would assume.
But you know what they say about assuming things, right?
That donkey’s shouldn’t speed.
Or drive. But they do anyways, because there asses, and they’re a danger to you and me on the road.
Ass Zooming. that’s assuming they know how to drive using those clods hoppers of a hoof on their feet.
But they only have one hoof between all four feet.
Well, they might be transformers.
Hey, we live in a day and age where anyone can be anything or any gender they choose.
I once dated a woman who identified as a ketchup bottle.
Which made sense in a weird way, a way I leave to your imagination, because that’s the kind of logic we’re dealing with here today.
Stupid squirrel spider shark clown bird logic.

Dear short women.

As you know, being short or tall has it’s advantages and disadvantages.
Keeping the ass hats away with bad vision is one of them.
I would like to think smaller boobs meaning less back pain would be another one, but then again, it’s a matter of perspective. More importantly, I would like to believe that science has been lying to us all and their are actually two brain halves, one in each breast. this explains why women in general are considered smarter than men.
Because we too have a second brain, it’s just rather unfortunately placed, and we keep sitting on them from time to time.
that being said, as a tall man, or Stretchy Boi as one would phrase it, it’s come to my understanding that Short woman plus Tall man equals Relationship goals. mainly because I’d like to think, and I’m just being blunt here, and I’m quoting a friend here, “That tall man dick just fills more.”
If I am mistaken, please let me know.
Yes, I will talk about the sex organs, whatever’s on my mind, because even though there are things that need pictures of cupcakes, exotic locales, or trips to where ever the fuck, I’m not one of those types that randomly douches it up because “Clickbaiting” means having to lie to you about how awesome I am.
So sirs and Madame’s, I’m treating you, yes YOU, like the beautiful intelligent persons you are and not having bright colorful pictures every two words.
They are pretty, they are fun.
I am neither.
I’m much better than them.
Suck it http://www.travelbanana.org.
You ass.

Right, talking about short women, meh, I really don’t like staying on topic, Short women are the shit, all women are the shit, y’all keep humanity going, no matter the height, because love is love. And We all know what’s at the base end of love, right?
Oh yeah, a shit ton of fuckin’.

But hey, we’re all adults here, and everyone has their things.
Some people like to fall in love, other’s want to love a sad clown in an iron lung.
Because there are people with a void of darkness in their hearts.
OMG THE CUPCAKE TRUCK IS HERE!
Fucking love me some cupcakes.

Let’s talk about our DREAMS!

What if I told you, that I had a Notebook style dream about a woman in love with a Sandman enlisted in the Armed forces and the dream ends with her declaring her love for him, arms wrapped around him tightly as he slowly disappears into the winds?
Your first thought would be, “Annnnnnd now I’m crying.”
Your second thought would be, “Sand between the boobs.”
And your third thought would be, “Wait, if he’s made of sand…. Did… Did they just have sex?”
And good sirs and madams, the answers to those thoughts, theories, and questions you never knew needed asking or answering would be yes.
I cried too.

More ridiculous than that is the FB group known only as “https://www.facebook.com/events/448435052621047/” Or 1.1 million people storm Area 51 to slap some alien cheeks. What the “Clapping” involves leaves little to the imagination, but I assume it involves ramming things into other alien things as revenge for all the constipated red necks claiming it’s them thar aliens done with what all that there probing!
That’s what I’m guessing anyways, people have weird kinks when it comes to sex, and yes, I do talk about penis in vagina, vagina on penis, or where ever you like to stick where ever into wherever because we’re human, sex is a thing, and I’m not about to be virtually brow beaten by some lonely chick I’ll never meet into not talking or writing about the very thing that’s kept our literally fucking species going on.

I’ll talk about whatever god damn it! Including the previously mentioned clapping of alien cheeks and questions about sand storm sex, BECAUSE THAT’S THE KIND OF PERSON I AM! And as erotic as both scenarios sound, there’s the after effects of those scenarios!

For instance, if she takes a shower later on, does losing those particulates hurt the sandman? Or does he just thwip those things back into his form? Will the produced baby not be able to enjoy swimming? Will the other kids start bullying him or her by throwing glasses of water at his or her crotch and start calling them Sandick or sandtits!? Instead of Sandisk.
Because my humor is working multiple levels here!
more importantly:
If after years of enduring torment, will the sand baby morph into a mass shooter like Sand man or Sand woman, using their own body to murder those who tormented him? Not by slowly grinding away at their screaming forms, but just by straight up launching his or her fist at super speeds from the top of their heads down out their ass?
Hey, darkest timeline here.

Or will the kid turn out alright and have to be REALLY careful during puberty?
These questions about human/Desert hybrid physiology are fucking important!
Continue laughing.
Seriously, it’s humor.

But the dream was pretty sad, but satisfying, it hit all the right notes, and would’ve made for a god damned awesome movie, the questions asked, the motives behind the actions taken, the morally ambiguous sex scenes which mainly involve her, him, or the Apache helicopter rolling around in a pile of sand, while Beach boys blasts in the background?
Tear jerking… In ways.

I wish to god I was in a relationship. To love, be loved, share moments of hot steamy passion and dumb debates over whether to get the regular spicy sushi or the super spicy sushi, the quiet moments in between the sporadic conversations where we’re both in our own little worlds, only to be snapped back to the present by a brush of the hand?
The point of this post is that time is fleeting, life is fleeting, memory of the truly important moments is what keeps us going, pressing for something more, something better than what we had previously, and to always push forward, even when the task in front of us seems daunting, confusing, or down right pants shittingly terrifying.

Let’s talk about women in the lead for the moment and the disconnect I feel… Not a bad thing mind you, just… a bit left field, and this has NOTHING to do with sex… That I can tell.
Okay, take your average action movie, you know the thing:
1. Bad ass male lead.
2. Damsel in distress.
3. Asshole trying to do a bad thing.
4. Comic relief that’s more or less ignored until a crucial part of the movie.
5. Guy get’s the girl, which one, meh, don’t care.

Now, reverse the PHYSICAL and MENTAL genders involved. I get that Trans is a thing, but we’re not talking about that right now.
How much more likely are you to see that movie? how less likely?
Interesting in either case.

Moving forward:
Let’s talk about the E-girl that was deleted from life by her creepy ass boyfriend.
Let’s talk about the fact that this asshole slit her throat then posted pictures of it on Instagram, where it took a total of 72 hours for the site itself to take the account AND the photo down?

What the fuck?
First, Le Unpacking of the many levels of bullshit.

I’m no fan of E-girls.
Let me repeat that, very clearly:
If you are an E-girl, or claim to be an E-girl: You have zero self confidence in yourself in face to face situations to the point where you have to exploit yourself to get attention.
You may say that you have self confidence, but really, all your actually doing to running with the grain on the stereotype that E-girls are just a low grade version of Cam-girls, and fuck them too, because of the same reasons.

That being said, when I was 14, I have had friends that were E-girls that have tried to push their BS on me, and I was like, “Why be my E-girlfriend when I’m right in front of you?” Then they looked at me dumb, like I just farted in their pudding or something.

If you are a man or woman 18 or over in a relationship with someone 18 or younger: Fuck you, you creepy mother fucker.
The moment I turned 18 was the moment my then girlfriend broke up with me for the logical reason of, “Well, you’re an adult, and I’m still 16, so goodbyes!” and I was totally fine with it.
Sad, but totally fine with it,BECAUSE i KNOW THE LAW YOU FUCKING IDIOTS.
The dude was 21, in a relationship with a 17 year old e-girl, and when they met up, he straight up murdered her and posted a picture of her corpse on Instagram.
What the flying utter fuck is up with people?
We up to some crazy fucking bullshit now a days, and we’re at the point where Mass Murder, Children living in cages, kids being shot, White supremacy being our Presidents go to move, and YouTubers being absolute shit to their kids are normal.
Now, we’re at the point where teen girls are being killed by their creepy ass 21 year old boyfriends.
Like, god damned, the cycle of crazy never fucking surprises me, but god fucking damn it! This is why y’all should be careful.
This is why parents always have more than one girl, because they KNOW there’s a chance of one of the darling little angels doing something incredibly stupid and ends up getting killed.
This is why boys are a slightly safer bet. Kind of, boys are pretty fucked up as well.

Now, for a latte cleanser. I present: A fucking potato.

Image result for fucking potato

So, yeah, last night had this dream…

Well, I’m annoyed. Maybe.

There’s something to be said about being annoyed.
Maybe it’s the fact I personally have no fucks to give?
Or maybe it’s because there are so many shit titles to great articles that everything’s either “OMG SO INSANE!” Or, “Donald Trump’s NOT going to like this!”
who give’s a fucking shit about that kind of thing, not to mention I got a auto generated spam email from a ‘Hacker’ AND… it’s STUPID, MILDLY INCONVENIENT, and I keep losing track of when I have the caps lock on… Kind weird how that whole thing plays out. But, rather then get into a whole idiotic rant about how the whole of the idiotic world can go fuck itself with ten cactus patches, I’m going to tell the world at large to go fuck off with this inane idiotic bullshit that simply pops up.

Okay, guess I know what I’m focused on today, this should be fun. I’m not that worried about things that annoy me as much anymore. After going through what I’ve been through, not much bothers me anymore. Do I sometimes get confused? Yes. Do I forget shit all the time?
Of course.
Do I give idiots the time of time simply because they’re idiots?
Not all the time, but everyone needs to feel special at one point.

Point being, cycle of stupid repeating itself, over and over, minor changes, blah fucking blah.
Or maybe I’m just irate over something that’s out of my control, and my writing this out is the only way I feel like I have some as-semblance of control?

I honestly don’t know. It’s almost like I forgotten how to be myself since meeting so many people, and maybe it’s a bit confusing because I haven’t had the opportunity to figure myself out yet?
I mean, I have, to a point, though not to the point where I can simply be myself. Well, I can be myself to a point, I’m kind of a people pleaser, but I need to step up the protesting bit…. I like pop-tarts, they’re pretty cool. Sometimes I’ll just snack on them, two at a time!

Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve written a proper blog…

Although, what the hell is a proper blog post? Is it a collection of like minded thoughts?
Because, you know, if that’s the case, than I am properly fucked. I don’t think I’ve ever had a series of like minded thoughts, just a bunch of confused bullshit that people are like, “HA! Shweet.”
And you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m fine with being in a world in which my channel flippy brain gets confuzzled halfway through a thought and decides that buttercream screaming butterflies are the perfect valentines day gift, for the person you REALLY fucking hate.
And, you know, I’m not blind to my underuse of exclamation points, really!

Today I want to talk about love. And Workplaces.
And amazon.
And the holy shit storm of why either their a good thing or a bad thing, or maybe I’ll just continually switch topics, because I’m a rebellious bastard and you love me for that.
“Today, we’re talking puppies and the monster trucks who love them. Way too much.”
Yeah, so strap in for some enlightened as fuck shit, because this god damned thing is filled to the brim with swearing and clown beastiality referees. I meant to write that.

Yesterday, we got put in 5S, and me being me, I began to draw, something I do to pass the time. One of my friends then asked me a bunch of questions, some personal, others not, most I can’t remember, but she was cool.
Then my other friend, Karen, Who I think might have a crush on me? I don’t like to assume anything anymore, I just leave it up to the winds of chance and whatever seems to be going on that day to figure shit out, also talked to me about my drawing, and we got to talking for a while, and it was a pretty good conversation, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, and you fucking hate the fact I’m not giving you the deets!
Well, I can’t remember the deets, so we’re pretty much in the same boat here.

Anyways, i leave to go to the bathroom, come back, and I get snagged into Water Spidering, which is indirect work, but still critical, for Prep… And for about 40% I would say, I knocked things out of the park, I kept tote lines going, swept, moved pallets and cages, just in general, was an amazing beast of burden. Or unburdening, that’s like an Anti-Donkeh, right?

There was this one woman, really tiny, like, ridiculously small, looks almost like a kid, but she isn’t. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s got an amazing smile, which, hey, bonus points for getting her to smile! Anyways, she’s a sweet person, much luck to her in whatever she chooses to do in life.

Meanwhile, i’m apartment hunting, I’ve got my eyes set on a place or two, as well as the bedding needed to make sure I conserve as much space as possible, and was kind of blown away by the fact there’s a triple bunk bed, like, holy shit people! A triple bunk bed! that’s like witnessing a majestic Unicorn horn fuck a leperchaun right through the face, while the little fuckers barfing gold bars! I mean, yeah, it’s a bunk bed, but a fucking triple!?

Jesus fucking christ.

Oh, I also made my first communion.
Every once in a while I’ll still upload a video or two, but I haven’t been as interested in it. Growing my channel has become annoying as fuck, and I just decided, fuck it, not going to bother. I are there people who’ll enjoy my stuff? Maybe, I’ll never know.. I get just a bit depressed thinking about it, too many trolls, or algorithms or whatever, or maybe I just upload bad content, fuck if I know or care anymore. While there are peeps out there, my hearts just not in it anymore. That’s the long and short of it now a days. My hearts not in making vids anymore, and it’s not making me any money, so why should I bother?

Yeah, there was for the enjoyment of it, but constant criticism about the whole thing has whittled away at my enthusiasm for it, and until I get my own place, I don’t think I’ll be able to really get back into it. Things change over time, needs change,

Too many #s

#Update time:

Not #much #to #tell, added #more to flesh out the #story, put more of an #emphasis on #Sarah’s #storyarc rather than Morgan’s, because #Divertenti #Della #Amuletto really is about Sarah’s story.

That’s how I wrote it way back when I first #chortled it into a myspace blog, and that’s how I’m focusing it now.

Does it mean that the series will continue on that path?

#Unfortunately, no.

Much like my actual #friendship with Sarah, by the time Sogno Trono rolls around, Morgan and Sarah’s friendship deteriorates by the third #book.

Is it hard for me to get through the first two books without having some #reservations about not altering the overall story so that they remained friends?

Yes, most likely.

The way #everything #twists and #turns, the way friendships #bloom, their #roots spreading outwards and yet at the same time, interweaving back to their #homebase again, that’s what the book series is about.

As an #author, and in some screwed up way, a self historian, I must keep things as they were when the #series was first written, but somehow #enliven it to be something more #powerful.

Is there an overall #message?

Not to my #knowledge, maybe others will find it in their reading. If there is, when this is finally #published and released in its entirety, whatever message #you may think it is, please let me know. Or not, sometimes, the best message is one of #mystery, the #unknown.

I do know this for a #fact:

#Sogno Della #Dinastia is my #Magnum #Opus, I have never #wavered from that fact. I do not #purport it to be some #lifechanging #experience that will bend the minds of all who read it into some higher plain of #existence, nor would I ever think of it as some kind of #religious experience or #hidden #political movement.

There are hidden #truths from a #single #perspective, there are in your face #exaggerations, and some mind numbing #bullshit that you somehow wind up floating through, but by the end of it, you find yourself in a different place than you were before. In #small unknown ways, whatever they might be, in whatever #fashion they show up.

I am #continually #passionate about this, a work of both #love and regret, of forced #personal growth, and god fucking damn it, if this gets big, if this becomes something more than #realistically it’s ever supposed to be, than so be it.

If it remains #small and #unknown, #unread, #unpopular, or unpublicized, so be it.

I do know this: I will have #readit, #editedit, and #engorged myself on the feast of utter #batshit insanity that is the hugeness of the #undertaking I have ventured on, and god fucking damn it, I’m taking a sledge hammer and a stick of dynamite to this titanium #mountain and one day at a time, turning it into a #sandy #beach #paradise.

I seek the strange man.

You know that feeling in the back of your head when you’re onto something really great?
It’s an itching sensation that you can’t quite get to, and it never leaves you alone for long.
It’s a momentary lightning strike that leaves no trace, and like the momentary flash of brilliance, once distracted from it’s entrancing display, it’s gone, out of sight, replaced by something more ubiquitous than whatever the flying fuck is going on with the world right now.
It’s the feeling of loss, replaced by greater loss, yet still replaced by greater loss, only to be filled immediately by next small victory.
Because you have to count the small victories, you have to make those small things count, or else the whole thing would collapse, leaving you nothing more than a blubbering pile of salted insults upon an already dead horse, by which the beating stick has long since broken, but people still wish to use it on the same horse, even though there’s a perfectly good horse right next to it.
Why do people do this?
Why beat the dead horse with vileness and venom?
Why not try for a different approach that would make the next horse last just a little bit longer?
There’s no shame in revealing something old to a newer generation, but it has to be done right, or else you lose the essential impact the original content had.
Am I being vague?
Of fucking course I am!
not for vagueness sake, not for some melodramatic reveal that simply wastes the effort upon which the base of this post, or review, or whatever the hell this actually is might have.
But simply because I like doing things a certain way, to be less or more descriptive to hide a true intention, or maybe just because I like the feeling of wandering my way around a post until such time that my snappy assed brain decides right then and there to actually be direct. And by THAT point alone, I’ve already lost the original thread, but the post keeps on building, word by word, layer by layer, until there is a pivotal moment, a lightning flash that screams out into the blank void of my keyboard obsessed mind, it should scream, “Now wait just a fucking minute, you pedantic ass faced moron! Looky here! Fish string! now ain’t that a kick in the balls with a cattle prod!” and this might lead to someone questioning the logic prepared by that one statement!
How does one kick someone in the balls, or anywhere really with a cattle prod?
Do they kick the cattle prod into the balls?
Is the cattle prod already placed ball sack adjacent?
Where the fuck is this taking place and has Netflix already signed on for five seasons of build up to this one moment in which nothing is explained and we are left devoid of any joy whatsoever because we canceled our subscription and now season six is tied up on actors being dicks and demanding WAY more money than their ability should ever grant them?

The feeling is mutual, and the build up is grand, and the payoff is fucking tantamount to that of having your last orgasm before you die with a smile on your face and your preferred genital analogy writhing with utmost pleasure.

That’s how I felt watching Love, Death, and Robots.
Like a fucking god.
Now where the fuck is Season Two?

No other way to say it.

There seems to be a major disconnect, not the kind of disconnect that makes you think of a missed connection, or a frayed wire, but the kind of disconnect that makes one wonder what the shit is going on.
The old saying, “The family that plays together, stays together” Is very true, but what about the opposite effect?
In a three member family, Ma, Pop, and son, there’s a long standing dynamic that the family bond is supposed to be the strongest one, that no matter what, they have each other to rely on.
But what if one member of that family turns incredibly bitter over time, for whatever reason, and that bitterness turns into a form of control, what then?
How are the other two members of that family supposed to deal with that bitterness, wherever it may come from.
Is there a point later on down the line where enough’s enough?
That’s what I thought of the Lego Movie 2.

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?

Fuck, that’s hot coffee.

And other amazing as fuck facts about life in general.
I mean, really. What did I think getting into this post?

That it’d be some amazing fact finding spree of inspiration, of such great heights that it would forever change the landscape of human discourse and force a great and powerful evultionary force!?
Should every post be something mindblowing?
No, I don’t think so.
If you like the post, you like the post, I’m not going to get all pissy because some fucking commentor that was marked as spam, shunts a half assed, grab bag of words into what can only be described as a brain damaged serial killers first words after losing his dick in a knife fight?

Fuck no.

And yet, I’m writing a post, simply for the fuck of it. Yes, I could discover some GREAT ANDD POWERFUL DIETY but why the fuck would I waste my time doing… whatever it was I was writing about?
More importantly, hot coffee is hot.. I mean, really fucking hot. I use Ice cubes to cool it off, because I like cold coffee, that’s just how my shit rolls, I mean, really, for all our accomplishments, you have assholes that like it hot, and those who like it cold!
I’m Mr. Winter, I’m Mr. Told you so, I’m Mr. Zero Fucks Given and no I’ll not give any to your pour.
I’ve literally forgotten the part WHERE MY FUCKING ANKLE ITCHES!
Itch taken care of.
Mission all complete.
End of Line.
Go fucking Voltron.
What the fuck am I talking about!? I don’t know, there seems to be a disconnect, there is a disconnect, I can’t remember what the utter fuck I was talking about, writing about, I’m not talking, I’m writing, why the fuck would I narrate this to myself!?

Fuck thee hard, with a rotating cactus Book of Faces!

First off, let’s get one thing straight:
Fuck Facebook, that’s all.
I mean, yeah, there’s more to it than that, and believe me when I say that I am one cynical son of a bitch when it comes to things to get mad at.
Seriously, I pitched an epic level bitch fit about an overblown beauty competition that seeks to first exploit women for their looks, than subvert the beauty pageant for and IQ quiz, as if women need to prove that they’re intelligent. They are, stop making them look like overstuffed tit fests you fucking sexist fucks.
I mean, yeah, I could be blowing that WAY out of proportion, but by todays standards, that shit was tame compared to what I would’ve put eight years back, and believe me, I was filled with fire and fury like the world would never have believed.
I was also filled with the idiotic notion that people would love my blogging skills despite overwhelming proof the only reason they ever read beyond the second word was to see how far into the post itself they could get before deciding, “Nah, fuck it, UNREADABLE GARBAGE!”
Because I did not edit worth a DAMN Back then.
I learned the hard way.
Like the Archbishop in Australia learned?

I mean, holy fuck. no worries, I’ll get back to the whole “FACEBOOK BE DOWN, EVERYBODY POST ELMO MEMES!”  shit in a second, I just want to talk about this idiot. He fucked two kids because he caught them stealing from the church, and these little guys were just minding their own damned business.
Anyways, legend has it that the guy that shit under wraps for DECADES before his own guilt ate at him to the point where he just up and turned himself in.
Whoa, and what the utter fuck?
I mean, thank god he turned himself in, but the shit storm he threw into the air among the cluster fuck sized hurrican of WTF the Catholic church is already going through?
Jesus…

Anyways, back to the point of this, fuck Facebook for being down even though I don’t really give a shit. Yes, there arep eople out there that get EVERYTHING from FB, and good for them, really… show’s something positive about the platform that ultimately means people are going to freak out every time the platforms down for a few hours to half a day.
I mean, where else am I going to see crappy adverts for games I already don’t give a shit about?
”OH MY GOD, THEY WERE RIGHT, THE GAME SO AWESOME, FACEBOOK THOUGHT IT WAS A CONSERVATIVE POST SO HARDCORE, FACEBOOK TOOK ITSELF DOWN!”  Wait… no, that doesn’t strike the right chord here.
”OMG, FACEBOOK IS NAUGHTY, DON’T LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND CATCH YOU PLAYING WITH IT, AND YOURSELF!” Nope, still not right.
”FACEBOOK WENT AND FUCKED ITSELF OFF THE INTERNET!”
Perfect.
Or, is it? I can never really tell.
I mean, really, to me, Facebook is the thing that I HAVE to keep an account on, not because I need to, but because it connects me to my fam, my friends, and my potential dates that never quite get to the actual date part. Which is, at the moment, how I prefer it.
But, for those who’ve gone the “MUST WORSHIP THINE BOOK OF FACES, OUR SOUL FOR BAD PAY TO WAIT TO PLAY GAMES!”
It’s almost as if Le Zuckerberg is testing out a theory, so he brought FB offline just to see what would happen, and holy shit, he brought out the popcorn  and had himself a marathon as people took to twitter to shit all over the website as if it were their drug of choice and their dealer was a no show.
Fucking beautiful.
Though, I could be wrong, I mean, I’ve been wrong about things before, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the given reason were that FB is going through the piecemeal process of updating its platform on a massive scale to combat misinformation campaigns launched by Trump supporters to further influence the 2020 campaign.
Now, don’t get me wrong OR right, there’s a chance we might have a second Trump Term, but then again, we might not… Like, really. I’m almost excited at the prospect of how  this election cycle is going to play out… Still, with FB being down, which might be a sign of the times, that the unyielding might of the platform, is gone, creates a vacuum.

My thoughts about working for Amazon

NOTE TO THEE: I originally wrote this while I was STILL working for them, it’s still relevant, and I’m trying to clear up my drafts, and I don’t delete any posts. what was written then, is still relevant today.

Dear god, it has been a while since I last posted, hasn’t it? Well, here I am, so let’s get this shindig out of the way! I’ve been working for Amazon for little under two months at this point, and I’m going to rant a little bit.

The hours are long, the work is simple, and since it’s ULTIMATE DEATHMATCH SPACE BATTLE EPIC PEAK SEASON ALPHA 2018!!! We’re under tremendous pressure to knock out as many packages as possible.
Dick joke, or work joke… YOU decide.
Anywho, the atmosphere is relaxed, friendly and jovial, and there are plenty of ways to keep yourself entertained throughout the ten hour shift, talking WHILE working, arcade machines in the break room, watching tv, eating, and working. They’ve even got a work based waterslide that only the packages can use! See? fun for the whole working class family! The inside of the place where I work has the design scheme of what the inside of a robotic hard boiled egg might look like, white and yellow, and it’s a maze of pillars, poles, conveyors, tape lines, barriers, and machines all over the place, it’s pretty amazing how everything fits together.

At the heart of it all, you’ve got the varying departments working in concert with each other, for simplicity sakes, I’m using abrievs bruh, abrievs, but you’ve got IB, OB, ID, OD, UR, and a few other bits and bites, each section is like it’s own little city, with it’s own little mayor and it’s weird, fun, and all that jazz. I’m in Ur, which is fun, kind of, it keeps me busy, entertained, and I get to watch other people occasionally slack off while the lines packed to the gills, but fuck them, we’re a team.

Like I said before, the work’s pretty fucking easy, and the only way to not have smooth sailing is to NOT PAY FUCKING ATTENTION, because there’s a big fucking thing right in front of your face, two of the, really, that’s telling you where each thing is going, and it’s the simplest bit of fun in the world. You’re essentially paying the easiest game of lasertag in the world, and that’s pretty much it.

That being said, the pay’s great, the options are shweet, plenty of ways to grow and climb up that ladder. The only thing some of the weaker willed people couldn’t get their heads around was the long work day, it’s only long if you pay attention to it, and it’s not like you’re bolted in place. You need to get some water? Go get it. Need to relieve yourself? Do it to it, in the restroom, obviously.

There are couples in the place, and there are plenty of chances to find love or friendship in the place, but I’m not there for that, I’m just there to work, get paid, and go back to work some more. But, humans being social creatures, finding friendship there is one of the mandatory things that happens whether you want it to or not. I’ve made plenty of awesome friends, and I’m getting the hang of things, and with the arcade machine (I LOVE THAT FUCKING THING.) I’m finding ways to keep myself entertained, I wanted to start writing again, I can probably do that during my lunch, since that seems to be the thing that’s on my mind the most.

That’s one of the weird things though, Amazon, the work afternoon, evening, night, and early morning tend to sap your creativity, or energy, so you have to wonder this: When something takes up most of your day (For good reason, you’re there to work, not fuck around, fun as it is, it IS still a job site.) I’m left wondering if I’ve got the time and energy to continue my own writing projects, after all, those are the things that’ve kept me going the longest, and I’ve thought about that very thing…. It’s all about finding a balance I suppose, one that I’ll eventually find.

There are a few gripes I have, those are far and few between, for the most part everything works as it should. For the most part. As with any tech, there are moments when things don’t work as they should, or things just go dark (Not the place, just bits and pieces of small level tech, mostly due to human error), and there are a few ways they could help improve the workflow a bit better.

As much as I want to continue, I’m reminding myself that discretion is the better part of valor.

Bottom line: Hours are excellent, pays good, plenty of room for growth, ways of keeping yourself occupied, friendly atmosphere, every level works easy AF, and blast past the goal markers, and it’s pretty cool over all!

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