Sperm that fell out of my brother’s nutsack –
“Where’s Santa”
Me: “In that brown box”
Sperms (there’s 2 of them, 11 & 14): but it’s not wrapped
Me: fuck you
Sperms: We’ll tell mother
Me: good. fuck you. Eat some chilli, grow some tits/balls
Sperms: don’t be nasty
Me: see above. open the fucking box
{box opening}
Sperms: ??? Mattresses?
Me: Yes. They inflate while you’re here. They deflate when you fuck off. Remember to take them with you and bring them back when you want to poison my life again. Merry crassmass.
Sperms: Fuck you
Me: Fuck you as well
And all was good in the world
death

My best friend in high school died last Sunday. He flew a hang glider into a cliff.

This did not surprise me. If he died in a car accident or of a heart attack, that would. But hang gliding into a cliff didn’t.

He took a detour into fairy land and new age woo. Started calling me a “once born” for laughing at his crap.

None of that matters. He was a good natured imbecile that never harmed anyone as far as I am aware. His friends somehow located me to inform. I said I knew and passed on condolence.

I suspect if he wanted to choose a way to go, hang gliding into a cliff would be up there.

I have no animosity to you my friend, even though we haven’t spoken for decades, and my memories of you are mostly fond. Even when you were an utter dick.

Peace if there is anything left of you listening.

Threw the old man in a hole in the ground because we’re not allowed to burn him because that’s what catholics do and we are the one true orthodox faith and catholics are cunts and whatever they do is wrong. That fucking hole has cost $14,000 so far and that’s not counting the idolaters monument which will be another 5-10 grand. Death is for capitalist pigs. Fuck this. I’m leaving my corpse to necrophiles or US miiltary ballistics testing. Seriously. Fuck this. The cunt’s dead and we have to shit money. Fuck off. Cunts.

Wave at The Reaper and he will call.

Old man’s a carcass that somehow is still breathing.

Xmas eve collapsed on his walking frame. No motor function whatsoever. Picking that up off the floor is not as easy as it sounds. Body is like a bean bag and it groans in pain when you lift wrong part unable to articulate what’s wrong. He was dehydrating but could not drink and belly was like a ripe watermelon from accumulated urine he could not pass. Called ambulance. Excellent chaps. They got him off floor and moved him to bathroom and all of his bowels exploded mid way. Sorry no YouTube.

Hospital. Steady shutdown. No longer even sipping water, let alone food. Body shutting down. First legs, then voice, then hands. Now eye contact has gone too. Here’s the shtick – if you don’t shoot a sick dog it’s “cruelty”. But prolonging this bullshit is “god’s will”. Fuck you all. A heroin shot. Some purple haze. Game over. Quick easy and pleasant. But no… We have to torture all involved.

Where Twitter wants you. Obedient and waiting to be gassed as the vermin you are.

The Twitter Rules

We believe that everyone should have the power to create and share ideas and information instantly, without barriers. In order to protect the experience and safety of people who use Twitter, there are some limitations on the type of content and behavior that we allow. These limitations are set forth in the Twitter Rules below.

Kawhhhaaaaack. Now that you have cleared all the slime in your system…

Yes, Twatter says that with a straight face and a pure and good “conscience”.

I had a 10 year old account there from which I never posted anything obscene or which could ever be conceived as “threatening”, just rubbing people’s noses in their own doo-doo a la Diogenes, I had it canned in perpetuity by the Twatterazi cultural commissars.

I let it be for 6 months, then decided to dip my toe in the waters again. Pffft. This is what it took to gain a ban again –

I’m glad Orwell is dead because this bullshit would kill him.

The internet, from it’s tortuous Arpanet birth, was conceived, designed and engineered to be free and open. To quote one of the founding fathers

The internet interprets censorship as damage and routes around it.

 

Nice sentiment. Which the “free” market chose to piss all over. Everything since has been engineering to lasso, muzzle and beat into submission the original concept of citizen freedom. The result? We now live in a thought police gulag. Engineered by Zuckerberg and a new age phag called Jack Dorsey.

My crime above was most likely to use the word “retard”. This is the future these cunts invest in, desire and want – AI algorithms monitoring you. Natural language is now censored. You will speak like a machine or the machine will silence you. This is the future you imbeciles sleepwalked into.

I stopped writing a few years ago. The assholes that wanted to shut me up crowed in victory. It was not “victory”. It was coincidence. Get over yourselves.

My old man got cancer, I became nurse. It was no ordinary cancer. Some shit in inner ear, only three recorded cases in Australia. God, being the asshole (s)he is, gave one of the other cases to my brothers’s father in law. A reverse lotto win.

This is the grave Chrys Stevenson and PZ Myers danced upon. Unlike them, I do not open source pity parties. Or Greta Christina proclaiming cancer, fund raising and going shoe shopping when it’s a false alarm. Nothing false here. The cunt is dying.

The cunt is also a cunt. I was never physically or sexually abused. What I got was worse – a vacuum. That sucked all of my childhood into a void. My interests were “worthless”, the books and comics I collected with my paltry pocket money were burned as “wrong”. Every interest I had was “shit”. Psychologically, it was Auschwitz-Birkenau. Of course pea brains cannot appreciate that.

Now I sit here and inject protein into his stomach via a feeding tube. He clings to life like a junkie. I wonder why. This is the kind of reality above assholes flee from.

This in a nutshell is why I am what I am. I don’t “hate”. I live reality. And want to tear apart those that don’t.

Fuck you all.