RFID tags in penises. the only way to go. rape attempt? deploy the 10000 volt vagina taser! this will, however, make potential rapists start using EMP grenades instead of rufies. I'm not gonna lie, I'd kill for RFID tags in penises to become the norm. locked door? *pelvic thrust* *door opens*. random traffic stop! "sir, please insert your penis into this tube for identification." exchanging contact info? "let's rub our penises together so I can get your fax number." that last one actually has nothing to do with RFID tags, I just wanted to write about people rubbing their penises together.
i dunno. being a monk would be pretty cool. a lifetime of ascetism and drudgery balanced with contemplation and self-improvement. as opposed to a lifetime od drudgery balanced with...lesbian porn, i guess. freaks wit da butts, and all that. and orange robes. orange robes are pretty badass. shaved heads go without saying. on that note, must inquire into the status of remaining body hair as a monk.
i tako sinoć odem rano spavati, kao što mi je postao običaj pošto mi je život postao šuplja ljuska onog što je bio, i nekih x sati kasnije me probudi pjevanje. ono što je bilo čudno u tome jest to da me obično probudi vikanje pijanih likova na klupicama ispod prozora. ono što me pogodilo u tom trenutku je bilo to koliko su likovi jebeno dobro pjevali.
so right now i'm all like 'it's all chill. maxin' and relaxin'.' and it's really awsome because frank miller is writing this sorta-spinoff batman, and batman is this really insane guy who keeps saying:"i'm the goddamn batman!" and similarly goofy things. also, i'm very chill about the whole birthday thing. people are all like:"ohmyfawkinggawd! i'm one year closer to dying! lol omg help! :((((". but it's really not like that. you're actually just one day older, just like on any other day. really it's mostly like:"hm. birthday. the-day-of-guilt-tripping-people-into-being-nice-to-me. cool." and then go listen to some lou reed.
but creationism. everyone's like:"haha, look at those silly bible thumpers, thinking some omnipotent being created everyone! how ridiculous! ho-ho-ho!" but then i look at people and it's like:"man. god's androids. crazy-ass algorithms." and i see cancer and i think to myself:"god either has a terrible deber or he's a really lazy coder." what it comes down to is "some guy thought it would be neat to make us so he did." isn't all that different from "a bunch of molecules assembled themselves into a self-replicating organism which then also magically developed all sorts of neat abilities, just for the heck of it."
for the sake of being expeditious.
grant morrison is a fount of inspiration. just looking at a picture of him and uttering the words 'a scotsman on drugs' relieves all my fears and makes the world right again.
on the left side of my forehead, my skull forms a slight ridge. being of the headgrabbing sort, this ridge provides a vast amount of reassurance in times of crisis.
(SoC paragraph. skip)
i'm stuck in a transcendental pitfall. physical matters are little more than an annoyance. and i've sorta neglected the whole spiritual development thing for a couple of years. which would be okay, except i don't have a focus. the closest thing to a focus i have right now are cheeseburgers. but i ate all the cheeseburgers, and now my focus is going to give me insane amounts of gas. the problem with this is that gas is sporadic, and i need a constant focus to keep myself from thinking about loaded questions like "what is the point of anything i do?" and "what is god's favorite color? is it something really gay like ocean sky aquamarine?". basically because boundaries are important, especially when thinking. without boundaries, every thought i have would wander out and get eviscerated by some bullshit relativistic reasoning. i hate relativism. it's like that nerdy kid in the first row who says things like "plums are part of the grape family." and "actually professor butty mccrackiss has just recently written a very persuasive paper in which he put forward the idea that the egyptians were actually the first western culture to reach north america." and you really want to kick him in the balls, but he's right, so you just ignore him. it's just that if i get tired of people, i'm just going to go incommunicado, and for some reason people dislike that, and that's another bridge burned right there. sorta like that third(fourth) allied mission with tanya. except that mission has nothing to do with what i'm talking about. except bridges.
children should know better than to bother me when i'm eating cookies. especially when I'm reading retarded articles about comics and eating cookies. reading the articles makes me mad, which makes me spew cookie bits all over the table, which enrages me further. now it's one thing to be an alan moore fanboy. okay, fellate him all you like, the man has some good titles, a beard, and a magic cave. but y the last man is not the eight comic of christ, and people should stop masturbating over it. it's an okay comic. sure, better than most of the stuff that comes out these days. return of the dark knight should not be on any top list ever anywhere. it's a joke. a spoof. a parody. also, you have frank miller on there already with daredevil. frank miller is not deserving of a dick sucking. okay, gaiman, whatever. what really irks me is that not a single one of the three most profilic british creators today is no there. ennis, morrison, ellis. i shall now go read the invisibles for the fnord time. because the invisibles is the greatest comic book ever written and everyone should read it and mold their lives after it and give grant morrison their money so he can afford to turn batman into a transvestite and make him replace robin with a russian battlebear that he rides into battle singing turkish partisan songs.
some inane percentage of children who are statutorily raped by people they've encountered over the internet see that person multiple times (and engage in intercourse multiple times). this is because parents spend too much time doing things other than playing dawn of war with their children. if your children are playing dawn of war with you, they can't be raped by strangers (except in very extreme and unlikely circumstances). but if you zerker rush them, your children will hate you, and will put you in a retirement home. a retirement home with dialup.
i think i'll go with kritmar for the hippo.
zapravo je puno bolje kad je ploča zrippana tako da se čuje ono šuštanje igle. želim svirati opet. jug će ponovno ustati. ali susjedi. moji susjedi. jedni viču kad sviram. drugi su ludi. trećima je netko ukrao kaktuse. peti pak drže jebeni sad koji glasno kuca na zidu koji je zapravo zid pored moje kupaonice. ne bi čovjek rekao, ali je prilično teško kenjati kada ti pored glave glasno otkucava sat. ali sat je zapravo oke. gore je kad pričaju u toj sobi koja je pored wc-a. teško je čitati, a time i obavljati nuždu kada netko priča.
profesori sve češće ilustriraju neke besmislene poante time da pitaju studente koliko njih ima mobitel. to jest tko nema mobitel. i onda se nitko ne javi. teško je reć da li zato što svi imaju, ili zato jer je nekog sram priznat da nema. ja mrzim svoj mobitel. jedini razlog zašto mi je prihvatljivo uopće ga dirnut je činjenica da ima orkovsku insigniju na poleđini. ručni rad. ljudi su mi se smijali. što zbog modela, što zbog orka. ali ja volim svog orka, i on voli mene. ali mrzim mobitel. ideja da bi netko trebao do mene doć ili da bi jao trebao moć kontaktirati nekoga u bilo koje vrijeme mi je degutantna. što je retardirano, jer mi je istovremeno ideja da imam ugrađenu wireless karticu u glavi sasvim odlična. da je u lećama ugrađen HUD i da su ostale komponente smještene negdje između jetre i gušterače. tako da mislim da čak nije ni ideja, koliko estetika cijele stvari. arhaičnost, čak? držati elektroniku izvan tijela, sasvim barbarski.
i miss feelings. having feelings related to specific phenomena, i mean. as a kid i used to have a special feeling for urine-soaked graffitti-scrawled alleys. i used to have a feeling for parks with fountains. for the onslaught of cars racing the green light down the street. there was a time when the world was new. now it's just a series of preconceived motions. but the one thing i miss most of all is waking up covered in a cold sweat, with panic making it hard to breathe and tears blurring the vision because nothing is as it should be and there is no hope anywhere. being calm and composed kills me a little bit every day.
biceps je najjakiji mišić u ljudskom tijelu. neukusne šale na stranu, moj desni biceps je jakkiji od mog lijevog bicepsa. ovo se očituje u tome što u prosjeku mogu dignuti uteg dva puta više desnim bicepsom nego lijevim. ako stavim tetovažu na desni biceps, biti će simbolično, i vjerojatno će bolje izgledati. ali ako stavim tetovažu na lijevi biceps, možda to motivira lijevi biceps da počne marljivije raditi, i to onda dovede do jednakosti među bicepsima. no opet, ako stavim tetovažu na desni biceps, eventualna gangrena i amputacija će mi oduzeti desni biceps, najjakiji mišić u tijelu. ali ako ćemo se voditi tim tijekom razmišljanja, bilo bi nužno staviti tetovažu na penis. neću stat dok moji bicepsi ne budu odlični...lješnikari? htio sam napisati orašari, ali sam onda uvidio da zapravo ne postoje neki internetski zapisi koji bi poistovjetili riječ orašar sa alatom za razbijanje oraha. kada moji bicepsi, kalcepsi, dostignu tu sposobnost, možemo koristiti njihov naziv za alat za razbijanje oraha.
writing without form amuses me. like some giant amorphous blob, my text devours the sanity of its readers. which is fortunate, because the only alternative would be to post pictures of deformed heroin junkie stillbirths, and that would be crossing the line a bit.
let it be known that those bearing antiamerican sentiment shall be held at an appropriate distance until march 5th at the earliest. i am wholly overcome by obama fever. and by obama fever i mean HOPE. gobama! yes WE can! choom choom!
apparently i failed to wallow in self-misery yesterday. this is because i wallow in self-misery every day of the year. it's this sort of long-term planning that's gotten me to where i am today. granted, 'where i am today' is 'thinking about setting up an ubuntu/xp dual boot just for the heck of it'. (quality self-loathing folks, can't get this caliber of self-loathing just anywhere)
in fact, the only thing keeping me going is the vast amount of karma i've accumulated over the years. given enough time, the astral plane and the wailing souls of xenu's erstwhile followers can take form as formidable allies.
during the day, i dream of eschaton. at night i dream of walking on a tightrope in front of thousands of black rabbits with cybernetic implants. naked. and apparently people in speedos. but that's something else entirely.
take note of my frustration at the insular nature of counterculture. well. not insular nature per se, but a relative annoymity that acts as a deterrent. obviously, such annoymity is a key attribute of counterculture, but a lowering of the effort threshold for induction would be...appreciated?
i have a hippo holding a heart here. he's gray. a sort of greyish-beige, actually. the hippo. the hippo has no name. give the hippo a name. also, a fluffy tail for some reason.
i seem to have lost the ability to read. it's not unexpected, it's just that i hoped for a bit more time until it happened. at this time it's still unclear whether my progressive mental deterioration is due to a cognitive disease or subliminal conditioning turning me into a corporate drone. I, for one, welcome an eternity of setting up wireless networks and getting rid of porn pop-ups for my boss.
paper dogs chasing asbestos cats through hell and all that sort of thing. yeah, fuck you cellar door. snooty git.
the list of things that one should not do with one's penis grows longer by the day.
it's only a matter of time until remorse reaches its boiling point. you can't expect to consume other things to fuel yourself and not feel the moral consequences.fossil fuels are a burning issue these days. renewable sources of energy are the new dot com. except not really widespread. but who can blame us? as jehove made us in his likeness, we make our creations in ours. a renewable human energy source would go a lot further than a better mousetrap (windmill). that is to say, energy source that powers humans. not energy source that is powered by humans. naturally. or rather. unnaturally.
ignorance abounds. to such a degree that one no longer needs to take crazy pills to see what can only be percieved as distorted reality. it's a bit hard to focus on meaning and purpose in these sorts of situations. while driving, thinking about where the road leads comes second to staring incredulously at the people walking their dogs through the middle of traffic, wearing only a burrito. the important thing is not to give your position away. i tell people i want to board up my windows because the sun bothers me. in fact, i'm very exposed to sniper fire from the surrounding buildings. that's why i never have any lights up at night. i take my life into my own hands every time i choose to sit in front of the monitor, its piercing light silhouetting my figure like some sort of pagan bonfire. i look upon sex with machines as mundane. am i not wonderful? there are those who would hit you with sticks because you will not obey. i will hit you with sticks only if you will not listen. i may also hit you with sticks if you have a particularly annoying mannerism or possibly if I am annoyed at some random quirk of chance. if I do, know that my blows bestow the blessings of the holy trinity: eris, cthulhu and jesus christ(vampire hunter aspect). listening is crucial. though thy sins may be great and terrible, if you will listen and will consider my words, hope and salvation are at hand. ask a hundred people what man's greatest invention is, and not a single one will say free speech. the thing with arguments is, they shouldn't be measured by the sum of their propagators. numbers have no power over ideas. an argument should be the conjunction of its failings and the sum of its advantages. There was a monk who gained great fame, although that was not his intention, by answering every philosophical question that was posed to him to the satisfaction of his questioner. One day, he was approached by a towering figure wrapped in a flowing black robe which obscured its face. The figure asked:"If one is talking to Death, is one already dead.?" The monk put down his rice bowl and picked up the rake he had used to gather some fallen leaves. He then answered:"He who is alive shall conquer death until the moment of his demise.", whereupon he struck the figure upon the head with the rake and the morbidly obese (yet dexterous and mirthful) abbot did tumble from the stilts he had been standing upon. Which just goes to show that hitting things with a stick is actually very zen. A woman in germany saved a tiger cub by reanimating it. My faith in humanity survives another day. My faith in german tiger fences is prettymuch gone, though.