i am wanna kiss the chunks of lotto vomit
can you help me?
i want to LUCKY sucker
i want long
i gonna graspping the all numbers plus one number
is it a forecast? am i to winning?
get me flash pot
Archive for the ‘anger’ Category
spitting lotto chunks
Tuesday, April 21st, 2009Super Market Aggression
Monday, April 28th, 2008Went on exploratory mission Sunday afternoon to here-to-fore unvisited supermarket in neighborhood where we moving to’s in a couple of weeks -> this was an extreme event. Sunday afternoon shopping is a like a middle-aged house-wife mosh-pit to the music of florescent lighting and overhead savings announcements. This includes the grey-haired men wielding roman carts at high speed and casting spears. We liked the supermarket and look forward to shopping there but someone is going to get hurt eventually because people aggressing on each other in grocery-induced adrenaline rage is an intense situation where a brawl is inevitable. If I have to beat someone down for pushing their way through to grab sunny-d off the shelf, it can’t be helped.
pervasiveness of anger
Tuesday, October 9th, 2007So I am fucking angry and feel manipulated and ping-ponged the fuck around. I’m my own emotions. My experiences have led me to disbelieve my own mind and my own feelings – wherever any difference occurs then I no longer trust the difference. XHD is the new Extreme Human Death. Extensible Human Death. Either way, you know, I lack fundamental ‘death resolution skills.’
The Hand of Death is a cult I created with no members in approximately 1999, in Brooklyn – and that doesn’t matter at all. It’s a fucking detail so whatever. It could be a lie, I am just trying to figure out what has happened. I said ‘approximately’ so let it go. The proper sequence is: Orator -> “The Hand of Death” with hand raised before the fools. “Succumb, Die.” There is no response. Only submission to idiocy and lies. I’m the liar and I tell nothing but truth so fuck me and fuck everything. Some experts describe this as “pointless”.
But my anger, frustration, baby-like-emotions, and subsequent hysterical crying results in nothing – washed away in the wave-like pervasiveness of atheism in marketing. Need a prescription with side-effects? No? Well, there’s no God so take the fucking pills and die already. Old, lonely and need a motorized chair? Yes? Fuck you, there is no god and there is no afterlife. Buy our product you desparate asshole! It is called
‘the dilution of consequences in favor of immediate gratification’
I subscribe to it in the form of binge eating, finger chewing, and ball slapping. I’m a hypocrate too, so fuck it all. Bosko is my goddamned hero because they thought they (the same) were raping him to make a buck but he stands as a testament to innocence so complete the assholes were innocent too and had no idea – they really thought they were badshit.
LSD changed all cartooning forever. Mostly from the viewpoint of people who never took LSD who confused creativity with artificial intoxication. They had never experienced creativity either. The result is that the blackfaced-minstrel’d anthropomorphic-animal obscurations in synchronized orchestrated-dancing insanity is gone forever and all we have now is the corpse of Grimace laying purple and bloated on the hog-soaked game-card-selling death-altar of background radiation.
I have a total lack of joy completely. Insane weekends open up the heart.