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.

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 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.

Oh to thine own soul, I doth speak to thee

I speak a summer’s breeze of creativity, heavy and rife with intellect and naive of the mind’s own maze of batshit craycray.

Preface:
Caffeine was involved.
Copious amounts of caffeine.
No fucks or apologies issued, you knew wtf was going to happen.

Let’s get something straight here, I fucking swear in my posts!
“BUT WHY!?”
And I say to you this, my child:
Because, the human language has over a trillion words in various dialects, each with their own unique needs and wants and kinks, and sometimes, the word ‘Is’ likes to do the butt stuff. Hard butt stuff with mimes dressed as T-rex’s, each armed with fifty dildos and a crosed of broken glass, which MUST BE INSTRUMENTALLY INSERTED INTO THEIR NIPPLES LIKE A CROSS DRESSING FUCK KING!
So, yeah, I swear.
Right now?
right now I’m about to lay some knowledge into your faces heads, and in your mind anus, some infojizz will bloom the might horny person into the wellspring net of yahaolmyspace.com!
So… if you were expecting an intelligent and thoughtful, proviking stance on why longboats needed to be shipped into the email addresses of local midget villages, than you’ve… made a wrong turn somewhere, because here? Here is the MOTHERFUCKING MINDCICLES! Where the contrast between intelligent and ALLMIGHTYWHATTHEFUCK happens just as quickly as a dick stabbing squirrel dressed as a honey bee setting fire to the orphanages of all of Christmas Day!
Plus, straight coffee fucks with my head in magical ways. And yes! Yes my friends, my followers, there will be days where madness spits in your face nipples and your eye feet will run, SCREAMING INTO THE MIDNIGHT FORESTS OF THE DEAD SOUL DEER, AND NOTHING SHALL RETURN!
Except, a higher knowing of what you just read might become the stuff of legend. I say unto thee, I speak for the worms and the wood, and the wood winds, and the woods that break wind, fart and from that fart, know that you shall launch the moon monday penis into the sky clouds and hamper the laundry of the infinite sadness!
Wait, the fuck?
I don’t care about making sense, I just need to write something, anything, something that makes me feel like you follow me so that at one point or another, this Bob ross of a painting of words will somehow inspire your to greater heights. Maybe, somehow, somewhere, the minds that crafted the intranet, the internet, may one day VENTURE TO THE OUTERNET! and holy fuck I’m looking up the OUTERNET as soon as IO finish writing this! Like, fuck me, that’s an awesome idea, the inter, the intra, the outer, the through, the around, and the undernet…. MY GOD, MOTHER OF FUCK LORD’S GOD, WHAT HAVE I INSPIRED!? Nothing? Everything? Possibly something that may make the thought raptor of Seclusiondick 5 turn vegan ONCE MORE AND SOLVE THE DINO-CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS!? Well, that’d be a fucking amazing mashup, wouldn’t it? I mean, to literally be there while a SUPERSTEGO shoots dick beams of ice and fury…. that…. truly would be a FROST JOB!
I’m not going to be serious in the post, I don’t wanna be, there’s no need to be serious in a blog post all the time! Sometimes, you just need to say fuck it with the sanity, and go with the mental flow! After all, if there isn’t a blog post out there that speaks to the psychological inner workings of the mind through abstract constructs, then you’re just wasting the time of both the reader and the writer, for every step we take is another that someone else may one day too take. Maybe you two end up in a foot race of thoughts and ideas, each step taken inspires you further along the road of life, and your souls become synched, tuned, like fine instruments to be played at such a level only those with the finest hearing can truly see where it leads!
And I KNOW for a fact that some people follow me because of the sometimes insane ramblings I post, and others for the intelligent aspect. Or maybe you read because I’m just an interesting guy, I’ll never know, really. I just want to entertain you, like the MIND SLUG SQUIRRELS OF SCOUT TROOP 555- Kidding. Just think of every non sequitur as an idea for a short story, something bottled up and shaken around for a little bit, and finally let loose. I’ve been wanting to get back into writing short stories for a while, get my thoughts out to the world, you know?

MY work schedule just kind of drains me of that, day by day, hour by hour, scan after scan. IT just seems like I’m losing a bit of who I am, and like my man Paul always tells me, “HEY! KNOCK THAT DEPRESSING SHIT OFF!” I just wanted to keep myself pumped, at the same time, I’m just a little bit freaked out by the progress in my life. For the first time in a while, a LONG while, I’m finally at a job where I’m just knocking shit out left and right, where I’m surrounded by thinkers, doers, gamers, and people with a shit ton of experience to draw from.

those who’ve followed my blog for a while, know that I’ve been around the net for a while, that my posts are unfocused, a kind of stream of consciousness kind of dealio, but it’s all good. It just takes a while for me to get to the meat of the issue, and if you’ve read this far, welcome to the format, a thick layer of insane ramblings, and underneath the prospect of learning something deeper about me. Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t build a squirrel launching catapult.
Maybe, I shouldn’t dress the quirrels up in little Evil Kneivel costumes.
Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t aim said catapult in the direction of metro PCS. but this world of ours is full of surprises! and no matter what, we can all agree, that Trump is a fucking moron who’s going to kick off world war 3 by tweet alone.
Because fuck him, that glow in the dark son of a bitch! That fuck nutted shit for brains, used cheeto bag fucking, mushroom dicked, tiny handed, treasonous fuck munch of a human being! That rejected Garbage Pale Kid, that shit for brains ass face, that fucking moron, that diaper fucking ass for face! And yeah, I’m kind going all in, because like I said in the beginning of htis fucking thing, I swear in my blogs, and there are MANY MANY MANY layers to this thing, and sometimes, just sometimes, you don’t need to make sense, or focus on ap articular thing, or just fucking fuck shit up on a literary sense.
Sometimes, you just need to go all in, and as long as the thoughts are pretty much fucking unorganized little traumatized SPIDERS FROM A DEAD CLOWNS BROOM CLOSET, THE WORLD WILL SEEK THE UNDERKING OF THE NONTERNET, SLOOPY MCFARTNUTSACK! The stretchiest of Fartsacks the world has never cared to here.
Fart Sacks. The nuts of the human ass. The biological equiviliant of bending space and time so that the WORLD CAN’T UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL SCREECH CRIES OF THE TERABYTE BASED FLOCKAWAVES! They shall know only SORROW! Like the creeping insect voids of Therserererer Five nine eight! Wellp, whatever sanity this particular post had, has left the building, I mean, it WAS there for a while, and then shit just went left field, right field, pitchers mound, and ran the fucking bases.
Home fucking run.
Wait, I wonder if its possible to fuck and run and the same time?
I mean, seriously, the act is possible, on some level, by the sprints of each act will REQUIRE THE BEES OF A THOUSAND HIVES AND SEVERAL JARS OF JEFF PEANUT BUTTER!
Jeff, because while Mothers like jiff, Jeff has a bitching sports car, also the latest AC/DC Compact disk. Jeff Peanut butter, tastes like blood, motor oil, and getting chicks man!
God damn it Jeff.
Um, what was I going on about? The bee population is shrinking and no one really understands why, maybe Antisex groups are mkaing tiny bee condoms? Like, how does that shit even work? OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO SEARCH UP BEE DICKS. Also, fun fact, the size of Narwhal Penis is determined by the size of their Horn. Ladies, lmao. So the larger the horn, the bigger of the balls, and thaaaaat’s…. fucking disturbing the shit out of me. Not for the normal reasons, but because now?
Now I’m imagining regular bees, with regular narwhal hors, and giant ass testicles. So, there’s a bit of Nightmare fuel. How do Narwhals jack off? By slamming their horns into rocks or something? I mean, that make sense if you think about it… And you’re thinking about it.

Well, let’s do this!

I’ve been through a thing or two, because I’ve seen a thing or two, and I’m not sure at what point those things or two can get fucking bored of this joke, also it takes me five or so minutes to get settled in when I’m getting ready to write a post, so I’m thinking, GREAT… another word I’ve misspelled. I always have trouble with spelling certain words correctly, it’s craaaazy.

Want to know what else is crazy? The fact that I’ve not written in this thing for so long. I’ve got some hard truth’s to nub out, but I’m not going to focus on them, because I’ve only 4.5 hours of sleep, and people keep slamming into my room to try and distract me from what I’m doing, which is now a thing I have to deal with.

I’ve been busy with writing, with game making, with a bunch of crap that I’m easily distracted by or I just feel like I needed to switch gears on. Oh, right, about 5 weeks ago I tried to hang myself in the garage, and now my folks are trying to crush the story so that way people don’t get freaked out by that fact.

Anyways, floating around is tweet thread about the whole thing, so if I remember about it, I’ll link it at the bottom of this post. Writing… Well, let’s get to that thing very quickly, lately, I’ve been using a writing engine called twinery 2, a kind of branching writing program that’s fucking simple to use, and you don’t need any prior experience to use it.

I’m using it because I love writing books and I love writing expansive stories that are amazing.

What I don’t love are people trying to tell me how to use the program, because that’s when I try to cram as much stuff in it, they either lose interest in what I do, or I just lose interest in that particular thing for a time. But that’s neither here nor there, again, I’ll put a link in the description below.

Those who’ve been following my blog for years, know that I have a passion for creating things, and my latest endeavor in RPG Maker MV, is a triumph in it’s own right. I LOVE making things, it’s what I’m good at, even if the results are a bit shoddy, I know this because I always put 9,000,000% into whatever I’m working on at the moment, and always try to make it the best thing I can.

This current project I’m working on, “Project 1” is the working title, is no different. It still has the same basic premise as my other works, with Darkness and Light being a married couple who need to be extra fucking kinky in bed. So their idea of foreplay is to send newly created souls on adventures and live vicariously through them, because they aren’t so much as people as they are the physical manifestations of the very concepts of Light and Darkness, and who the fuck are we to think they have genitals. Who knows? Maybe their idea of shitting and pissing is summoning the Old Eldritch gods to consume and kill virgins in the upper northern tip of West Virginia, we’ll never know, because that’s just way too meta-physical, and we’ll never know the truth of WHY THEY CHOOSE TO CARRY PIZZA ON THE SIDE INSTEAD OF FLAT WAYS LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE, YOU LOUSY SHITS!

Anyways, I…  I think I channeled my inner John Oliver there, weird. So, this time around, instead of smacking together four random characters and flinging them to the wilds, you’re instead playing as a ghost who takes over the bodies of six characters, in one case, you’ll be switching between creepy twins, no reason, just a gameplay mechanic, and seeing the world through their eyes. The interesting part about this, is you’re told right off the bat “that you’re nothing more than a sex toy to the couple, now go out there and start adventuring you freshly baked fuckboi!” In essence, dear god folks, I put a bit more work into it than that, lol.

So, because I’m so interested in branching paths and separate but connected storytelling, there are three paths to take, Light, Neutral, Darkness, and each has five to six paths, making it 15 to 18 possible adventures, including one where you just wander around a library, and due to some interesting flaws in the editor and my own laziness to go any deeper than I have to, get repeatedly yelled at for climbing on the bookshelf in increasingly more hilarious ways.

Not to mention I might make a fourth path with an actual story behind it,  well, the whole thing will have an overarching story behind it, I just don’t like to pigeonhole myself into specifics or else I’ll just end up getting bored with it trying to find tune the shit out of everything OVER AND OVER AND OVER again,

On top of that, I’ve got two different Discord servers I’m running, which I need to transfer ownership over to myself, so that way I can really get things kicked off. A fresh start so to speak, though I really do have having to delete anything, though I’ve already have a few other things on my plate already.

Hrm… what else? Not much… Anyways, have a good one!

Link to the tweet thread about my suicide attempt:

Link to my Philome.la page:
http://www.philome.la/MorganGavin

Well, FUCK YOU TOO!

First off, fuck you Daniel Hogg! Why!? Because that insult was well, the fuck, overdue, and if anything, it sets the god damned tone of this fucking entry! Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, my inherent anger at the hunchback of trollerdamned isn’t the only focus here. My rage is directed mainly at data, the connection which connects us to connecting connections, so we can hopefully make fuck fuck noises while biologically connecting. This makes no sense to anyone but me, so fuck that logic. fuck it hard, without love, with a barb wired condom, attacked to a train piston, about to explode.

In Trump’s face.

there, we got that out of the way, and why am I raging like a failed Viagra patient? Because, when I’m writing, my mind’s focus, like a laser beam shot gun, and like a laser beam shotgun, I’m going to blow my load of lead pellets, all over somethings face. Like hunters, in the wilderness, going full on Broke Back Grizzly Bear. I have no fucking clue what my aim is anymore, and I’m not even drunk to tell you the truth. I guess most of whatever rage I DID have was spent on Dan’s insult. god I’m so fucking exhausted, but more on that later. Like I was saying, when I’m writing a part for the story, I don’t like my music to be interrupted by something like Battery Doctors prescription of Pissmeoffium, because it does that. On a regular basis, and I’m kind of sick of it.

I guess it’s just age, or whatnot, but…. Hopp, found it! Found my focus! When I’m listening to Trance music for a while, my memory kind of flips out on me, and it brings me back to Kim Kelly. I don’t know why, maybe my subconscious is still trying to figure everything out all over again? I don’t know, I don’t care to be honest, but hey, more power to the little guy, right? It’s a weird set of circumstances when the memories of something from the past coming trouncing back into your mind.

It’s almost like a long forgotten puzzle you’ve just put away, and kind of abandoned over the years, only to find yourself still trying to figure it out later on when no ones looking. to be honest, I’ve been thinking a LOT about Kim, but more in a “Huh, interesting. I wonder what’s on HBO?” kinda way. and it’s not even about the ACTUAL woman herself, it’s more or less about the function of the psychologically created construct that serves as a reminder of who this Kim person was to me, and I can’t shake the feeling she might’ve been someone important in one way or another, either directly or indirectly. Maybe a forced amnesia?

Either way, it’s never really a topic I’ve openly talked about till now. Maybe it’s the fact I’m alone most of the day? So my mind tends to try and figure out these little puzzlebox memories of situations I’ve landed myself in. And the… What do I want to call this? The… Kimcident? works well enough I suppose. the Kimcident was a period of my time at Victorvalley colledge where I learned a few well placed hard truths about adulthood, and my own personal sanity as a result. It taught me to calm the fuck down, dress the fuck up, and instead of flipping the fuck out, try to solve my way out of the situation with a bunch of fail safes, redundancies, and quick fixes, all of which would work well enough together.

But moving on from there,what I originally wanted to talk about was the problem of certain apps auto killing the data connection to phones in order to speed up the charge rates of batteries. Which, due to the technical limitations, can only really do so much in terms to helping the recharge rate. After all, the tines that connect the USB cable to the battery itself are only designed to deliver so much ampage, and any more would ultimately fry the battery, or cause a chemical reaction within the battery acid contained there within.

I just went full on technobabble without any effort! now to edit and post this sick son of a bitch, like the orphaning of the batman all over again! Seriously, we tend to want to see Bruce Wayne’s parents rekilled every couple of years, and even though it’s pretty damned worth it to see the joker get his ICP reject asss handed to him on a silver platter, you’ve gotta admit, killing Bruce Waynes Parents over and over is a sick addiction that the public just can’t get enough of. Fuck you Warner Brothers

radda vadda badda nadda fuck.

you know how all thosel ittle annoying commercials mean absolutley shit…if you dont have a job to pay for what there advertising? ticks me off to high heavan. but then how would people that do the advertising make money off of poor smucks like us? easy. the lottery for red necks.or even better yet. the hilton for hillbillys. there could be suchh thingsl ike the “screw your sister saterday luncheon” or the “blow your brother bed in breakfast” or even the “fuck the father french toast.” wierd huh?

another hting that none the less bugs me is the more important issue of the failing econimy. look, its not enrolled in school and screwing around in class. there are no pta meetings regaurding the econimys behavior or if the econimy got into a fight on thursday with little jimmy thomas from down the street. its not working either. so it musta got laid off or something idiotic like that. why do we even treat the econimy like its a living thing? why cant we just say what it is that really bugging us.

we havent used a nuke on anything since hiroshima and were just itching to use one of them bad boys.

i mean come on, its just that simply. we blow something up and then were number one bad assed mother fucking nation in the world…with an econimy that screws around in class and gets into fights with little jimmy thomas. and thats a badass country right there. and probably one really fucked up kid to boot.

it doesnt surprise me in the least that we owe a bunch of money to people that arent around anymore. so why do i still not care? cause mccains going to croak anyday now and obamas going to win this thing… and hopefullt give one hell of a talking to the econimy to see if itll stop beating on jimmy thomas. i dont really know what else to say besides that. im an extremely educated man with around 76% of  the facts right. that means that the other 24% of those facts have been lost to the worlds population due to stupid things being said and or done. DAMN YOU PILLSBURY DOUGH BOY!!!!!

yes you heard right, im going to blame the imaginary person, because thats what the us has done for the past 50 years. blame stupid things on even stupider people.god were stupid. we can throw a man into space, but we cant solve our own differences… much better. had to adjust myself for a second.

its kinda stupid how everything fits together like some wierd midget infested jigsaw puzzle. in fact. thats what we need. a jigsaw like killer…actually make that 100 of the little bastards. plus they need to be dying of cancer, trained at least two apprentices, and have psychotic looking puppets that kinda look like the result of a frog fucking an albino woman. because then and only then, will the usa be tested to see if it values its own life. and the reason i said 100 instead on fifty is because new hampshire needs to get its ass kicked.

more then that, its a defenate message to the american people that if you value your lives, you need to give blood for it….wait a tic, we have something like that!!!! its called a blood drive. and yet blood is wasted again  on the stupid, irresponisible people that make up the majority of americas funniest videos. god bless you bob saget, your a real tribute to the human race. bastard.

reality shows are next on my hit list, because if ever there was a low point in american teleivsion, reality tv would be it. nowhere in the history of the human kind, and since the spanish inquisition, “nobody expects the spanish inquisition! give her the comfy pillow torture!”, has there been such a blatant disregaurd for basic human rights. in fact, reality  shows are in actuality the very essence of the patriot act thats going on in america. we have a bunch of stupid people, inside a house, with microphones and video cameras, competing for a million dollar prize. does that sound like the american dream or what?

now mind you, im all for people doin whatever it takes to make themselves happy. beleive me, its all good. but the fact remains that fox reality channel….is just evil.

now heres what i want the next president to do. im sorry, resident obama to do. GET RID OF THAT DAMNED CHANNEL!

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