explanations to the blind

okay, i've got half an hour, i might as well see how much i can get typed up. people seem to still be needing these explanations about me, that i don't have time to offer and repeat, i wish i could wear them on my shirt with a doctor's signature under them. but here goes as much as i can spit out in half an hour.

i fucking hate people. i have people issues. i don't like you fuckers. i have social issues. i'm antisocial. i don't get what you fuckers are doing. i look around and see cellphones and sweaters on poodles, and i have studied you fuckers, and i do not understand what the fuck you're doing. you could explain it to me a billion times, i won't get it. fuck it. too much facebook, too much arguing and explaining, and i'm out of time. fuck you assholes. six billion of you fuckers. i hate every single one of you. i truly do. you're a disease.

the cold. when it gets too cold, or too wet, my body locks up, it will not move, it's just extreme pain, red alert, alarms going off, everything is red, i can't move, and... okay... do i need to repeat that again. extreme pain. locks up. freezes. won't move. hurts. do i have to explain that again. i need a doctor to diagnose it, and write it on a tshirt name card, because people think they're fucking doctors who can get away with judging a book by its cover. if my body gets too cold, it will lock up and not move. and it fucking hurts. if you want to know how much it hurts to see if it's worthy of your record books, i'll get michio kaku to find some way to implant a digital chip in your brain that lets you feel what it feels like, asshole. if you think you're that important. fuck you.

and i forget what else there was to explain at this point. so much lost, my mind's a fragment. i fucking hate you all. you've caused the worst thing this earth has ever seen, but you claim no responsibility for it, and therein lie the entire stage show conundrum.

learn to listen

i fucking hate people! i fucking hate people! you all fucking disgust me! i cannot stand this shit anymore! i fucking hate you! all of you!

i was just in the first congregational church in bellevue. i've been staying in their shelter. i like the numbers in their locations. the shelter is on twelve and one twenty, and the church is on eight and one oh eight. the library is on ten and one ten. so it's a diagonal shot thru the town for my morning. here's how it gets slaughtered by people, and having to follow their clusterclogging fucking rules. i puke at your structure.

i was trying to talk to the guy in the church. they have this stupid rule, which i'm sure is only in place to make the rich feel that much more elite, and make the hierarchy of price tags shine brighter every morning. you fucking sicken me. every time i go in there, they keep asking me about who my eastside connection is. i tried telling the guy several times now, but he refuses to listen. they all refuse. they don't care about people's names, they just want a number and an address, which... you know, doesn't that defeat the whole 'privacy' thing we're all so obsessive over? but i keep trying to tell them that i won't know anything till i get my phone fixed. so i tried explaining that to the guy this morning. i was just trying to tell them a few names to get him off my ass. i couldn't even get to the names before he interrupted me. they don't care what you have to say. it's not relevant to them. they don't get paid enuph to listen to you. but i set it up by saying that i've tried telling you several times, and every time i get cut off, and it triggers my ptsd, so could i please say something in private without other people interrupting, and could i please finish what i need to say, because i need to get it out of my head, or i'm fucked for the day. i told the guy that. he said as carelessly as possible, 'sure', and then steps over toward the laundry. yeah, real fuckin' private, i get to stand cramped in a little corner talking over a loud washing machine. thanks. but i started trying to tell him that i won't know anything till i get my phone fixed, but that i can tell you the names. he interrupted me before i got to say the names, saying 'i don't need to know'. thanks for letting me finish, asshole.

he goes on to explain, through a series of hieroglyphic technicalities, that the connection i need is someone who i've lived with, who can give me a home on the eastside... now, wait a minute. first of all, this idiot, i swear he spit about fifty technicalities out of his mouth in about two sentences. i need to decipher the logic behind this little claim he said. you want me to already know someone with a house on the east side... okay... so if they could end my homelessness... why the fuck do i need you. what do you plan to do to help, open their door for me? if i already have someone i know who has a house, why the fuck would i need you idiots and your homeless shelter, and useless fucking rules. but i swear the way he explained it, it's specifically designed to be as impenetrable as possible, it was this quick, three sentence little weaving of impossibilities to have to break thru... what the fuck is wrong with people. why can't you speak english, instead of this verbal puke clusterfuck of red tape legal bullshit. the structure is made to make you stand under it. i do not support your structure. it's a theory i formed many years ago. you don't know me, son. you think you do, but you're wrong. it's my pyramid theory. when the bottom of the pyramid no longer supports the tiny little top... the top falls. it's as simple as that, you don't need to complicate it with your 'but we still have authority and laws and you have to obey our rules' shut the fuck up, we've heard it all, and we're no longer listening.

there's a contradiction that you fail to see. there's a dichotomy of heads here, and no one's paying any attention, but i see it affecting my life and my eyes every day. this is the contradiction in simple terms, right here, right now. in your world built on money and concrete, i can't afford to get in your golden door. but in my world where knowledge is currency... you already can't afford to listen to me. i see that as a sign that i'm winning. your jargon is becoming less relevant, and less understandable. we do not sympathize anymore, we do not compromize anymore, we do not hear your lies anymore, and you have to realize that, you have to understand that, you have to come to terms with that, because it is not our fault anymore, you cannot blame us, we are not your scapegoats under your control with your chains of rules and regulations, we do not fit into your mold anymore, when the fuck are you going to learn this, when can you afford to see us growing out of your control. will it be too late.

that being said, and understood, i hope; he was trying to tell me that if i have an east side connection, that the homeless shelter can help me get set up and on my feet more and quicker and easier... i cannot even fucking remember half of the gibberish this fucker puked out at me. this clusterfucked little web of rules i couldn't see thru just standing there. he fucked my brain against my will. and these people do that every day. you don't realize, you do not understand that you're suffocating intellect with your ignorance, and the fact that your ignorance has authority. shut the fuck up and sit down, or i will start shooting people, i swear to christ.

so, going against the whole privacy thing, he doesn't want a name, and it can't be just a friend or an acquaintance, or someone who lives on the east side who said 'yeah, just come up to bellevue', no, it has to be someone with an address they can have, which defeats the whole privacy policy bullshit they're always shoving down my throat. i'm just not good enuph for your world, that's all there is to it, why can't you just fucking admit it. can't you afford to tell a truth? are you in that much debt from your lies? i know about being in debt with lies, i watched my drug addict uncle try to lie his way out of trouble, and when you'd catch him in the lie, he would just keep lying, perpetuating this grand story of aliens came and took my bag of weed, so i had to steal your car and sell it to get another bag of shut the fuck up, that's all you are is lies, there's nothing true about you. relax, you're just my delusion. the sooner you all realize that, the sooner we can evolve.

now, still trying to fragment piece together and decipher what the fuck was just raped into my ear hole. what it sounded like to me, was that they want an address of someone in bellevue, so they can kick you into that person's house, and claim that they helped you overcome homelessness. and that's what sickens me about this bullshit. the whole fucking picture of homelessness sickens me. the fact that some people aren't good enuph for your world because they can't pay to pay you enuph to pay you more, they don't kiss your ass enuph to make your throne cushy enuph to make the dollars fall out of your pocket faster, you, the owner of all dollars. i plan to end you. i'm the man you're waiting for. i'm sick of this shit, and it's time to start playing by my rules. if you violate my rules, you die. that's how a conqueror would do it.

i've been saying for years, you're all fuckin' with the wrong guy, but it's been at least four years, and no one has listened, no one has stopped, no one has apologized, you all just keep shoving your rules up my ass and expecting me to like it. fuck you. that ends today. i'm sick of this procrastination, getting stuck in the constant, never ending cycle of tomorrow, tomorrow, that has to be done tomorrow, that has to wait for tomorrow cause we can't do it today, cause today got fucked with walking thru streets for miles with no help from the six billion pricks on this planet... i'm tired of that shit. why do we keep waiting for tomorrow, but talking about today. i say we make today happen... today. we stop waiting. i'm sick of waiting. no more waiting for tomorrow. today is today. it's a monday, let's see how much i can accomplish today, and how high above the heads of these rule infested assholes i can soar. i swear to christ, i will do it. and you cannot stop me, because i know your wall of paper rules, i know its limitations, i know where it's already cracked, and i know exactly where it can break. i'll tell you again, you're fucking with the wrong man.

it really sounded like what this mutherfucker said, was that i need to take care of this whole homeless situation myself. i need to already have a house to live in, i need to give them my address, and pay them a bunch of money, and then open my own door, get my own furniture in there, and then thank them while they're fucking me in my ass, while i'm trying to close my door, as they take all the credit for raping me into my own apartment, but it's still not good enuph to be a house, so as soon as i close my door, i owe them more money, and oh, i closed my door on his dick, so now they need to confiscate my door and charge me more money, and hey, why not take a donut with you while you're at it, i hope it reminds you off my asshole, i'll wrap a bow around it and send a gift card to your mother.

they don't want to listen to you. they don't get paid enuph to hear you. you have to do their job for them, but abide by their rules while doing so... can someone tell me, why are those people there. why do they exist. why are they taking up space in that building. why, what is the purpose of them being there. what are they doing to fix the problem. they're just complicating a situation that doesn't need to be this complex. there are empty houses on this planet. there are people without houses. seems like a simple equation to me. i don't see any dollars or money or rules or security guards or addresses or papers or forms or sign here or signs signs everywhere a sign sign, i see none of that shit when looking from this side of homelessness with open eyes, i don't even see you. but you're standing in my way, and declaring your right to do so because the cop behind you has a badge that i could give a labia licking fuck about. you'll never understand this, and it's for that reason, that the future just does not need you. simple as that. if you keep interrupting me, and destroying my thoughts and sanity, and triggering my ptsd with your disastrous communication skills, brutally verbally slaughtering me because you can't afford to listen and don't have the time, and raping your rules up my ass to where i can't breathe, all while i'm doing your job for you, i'm gonna stop listening. and i might start shooting. i warned you. several fucking times, for several years, i warned you. but when you take me to fail jail, you'll claim that you never heard me, and that it's my fault. no, it's the dollar's fault. the dollar in your pocket. it built a world of hierarchy that wouldn't let me penetrate it, so i had to destroy it. i'm sorry, but it was time. too many people were suffocating under your reign. your ass got too fat, and you broke the throne. you can whine about it, or you can fuck off and die, and we'll read about you in history class.

so let me get this straight. you want me to find someone who has a house in bellevue. you want me to get their address and give it to you. even a dog would wonder why at this point. then, you want me to thank you for making it impossible to get into that house, while trying to get into the house, and then you want me to thank you for your help. i'd like to get a lawyer and have him look over this gibberish fuckin' red tape jargon, and tell me if i have a good enuph translation of the message. and then, i want to have a psychologist look over the whole thing, and tell me if i'm completely insane, or if you're just my delusions. and not just any psychologist, but my hero psycho the butt rapist doctor bupp. spit that out in as many alphabet soup letters as you want. do it in random order, i don't give a fuck. put pink sprinkles all over it, maybe you'll feel better.

but meanwhile, i'm homeless, and being tramped thru your fucking rules, trekking thru the streets everyday, doing your job for you, walking, making phone calls when i don't have a phone, taking buses i can't afford to take, getting looks from people that my stomach can't digest, freezing my ass off, in more pain than i can cry about, jumping thru your hoops, wasting day after day after day after day, and i'm not allowed to ask why, i'm just allowed to wipe my chin and thank you afterward. that's no freedom i ever paid for. that's not what i gave up my children for. no, see, you all start playing by my rules today, or you die tomorrow, and i fuck your future as it's coming out your mother's ass, as she turns into the headstone of your ancestors, just because i held down the down key on super mario three and turned into a stone while you ignorantly passed by. i plan to shove my head right up the back door of the monetary media system, where they least expect the guy they've been waiting for, doing this whole stage show for, which really paints a clear picture of what idiots are running this circus side show... but that's it. i don't need to complicate shit by using meaningless words out of order like you fucks. i'm coming in your back door, i'm injecting my message into the power cord behind the television, i'm shoving my head right up your ass until you explode, and that, my students, is how a mushroom is born! class dismissed, go fuck yourselves till you learn something.

but anyway, the dude refused to listen, so i just walked out the door, and i figure bellevue is now just as fucked off the list as seattle. i'm running out of cities where morons don't exist. and the more i do so, the more my third eye is clarifying the image it sees of utopia. it's coming. if i have to carve it out of my own fucking heart, it's coming. i refuse to let it pass one more day. you can bitch, or you can fuckin' die. i don't care. rich greedy fucking pricks, selfish assholes... i had a picture on my old facebook that said 'republicans are people too... mean selfish greedy people'. okay, so fuck the democrats, where are the anarchists that are brave enuph to get their hands dirty to build a new city. email me. i'm tired of wasting time. clock's ticking.

some thoughts in the cold

part of the show:  i'm a libra of cartoonishly galactic proportions. but at least i'm not walking around on the streets going 'got any shards, man?'. what the fuck is that. could anyone tell me. i really don't understand that. got any shards? i'm an underdeveloped fetus, but i'm trying to do my impersonation of michael jackson in thriller. but i need more shards so i can do it better.

oh, i get it. i'm an evolutionist, you must be the missing link. well, nice to meet you, glad to see where i came from. well, mama always used to say, you can either be the missing link, or the weakest link. it's up to you, i guess.

i'm lookin' for some shards.

do you know what's in shards?

uh huh. i memorized the wikipedia page.

do you smoke pot?

no, it makes me feel stupid.

would it scare you if i told you that was a true story? that little thumbless methroach missing link monkeyturd is walking our streets, and you fuckers aren't as disgusted as i am? (i'll grow this hydroponically later).

...
a vision i had: some guy is trying to count some big number on his fingers, and doesn't realize his third eye sees another way. so he holds up his hands, and just starts sprouting fingers and thumbs all over his body. people look at him, 'what are you, a fuckin' mutant?'. 'hoho, i didn't know i could do that'. he's got thumbs going up to his crown chakra. he tries it again, and this time it opens the top of his head, and this big bright beaming light turns on from his head, and lights up the universe. we can see galaxies in high definition daylight. and we see god sitting up there in the sky. big fat naked dude jerkin' off and looking at santa clause porn. trail of butter, beer, batter, and shrimp down his chest. he's sitting on a toilet just above tucson, arizona. and every christian in this country who carries a gun, pulls it out, and starts shooting at him.

cause we all know, that's where god takes a shit. tucson, arizona. one of these days, you just know, satan's gonna pop his big evil head out of that dirt, and say 'hey, stop shitting on me!'.

...
ideas for books: go ahead and publish everything i have up till now as the first book, and call it 'fragments of another lost past life'. then, immediately release the second book, and call it, 'the story of how i lost it all'. and then release the third book, and call it 'beginnings of the right life'. and have it lead into 'the eyes of evolution', which explains... the whole fuckin' thing.

the last of my sanity

i haven't been able to get my phone to charge for the last several days. so, last night, after the eight pm dinner under the bridge, which was spaghetti, by the way. that will come into play later. i sat in my tent for a while, wishing i could hear my music. it was about forty degrees last night, keep that in mind, too. so i sat up, smoked a cigarette, and looked at the bottle of alcohol... well, okay, rewinding. the other day on the bus, when i was looking for a new place up in university district to put my tent, because little did i know, you can still be 'evicted' even when you're already homeless. yeah, believe it or not, if someone doesn't want you sleeping on a certain piece of grass, they can just tell you to move. it doesn't cause them any stress. but anyway, on the bus home, right when i'm about to get off at my stop, this bum in a wheelchair on the bus goes to get off the bus, and drops a big bottle of whiskey. almost full. now, i'm not a drinker, i don't drink, i think it's one of the dumbest drugs on this planet, but we'll get to that later. but i thought, what the hell, i picked it up, put it in my trench coat pocket, and got off the bus. i figured maybe i could trade it for some pot. so anyway. i'm sitting in my tent last night, smoking a cigarette, and i looked at the bottle of whiskey. and i thought to myself, well, fuck it, alcohol keeps you warm, and i've got nuthing else to do right now except try to get a charge on this fucking phone that might last all night. so i walked down to the spot where i sometimes charge my phone, and sat there. i started drinking the bottle, and plugging in my phone, trying to get it to charge. well, long story short, i lost my last little shred of sanity, my tent's destroyed, my phone's destroyed, my feet might actually have frostbite, and i feel like killing someone. the next security guard that runs me off, i don't care. if i walk into a cellphone store, and they feed me some horseshit line about i need to mail my phone off and wait seven days, i just might stab the guy. i keep trying to warn people about my fragile sanity, and they just tell me i'm whining too much. anyway. i sat there and tried for two hours to charge my phone. from around ten pm, to around midnight. the phone would not charge. so i fucking broke it. i smashed it up against the concrete i was sitting on, broke the glass screen so it doesn't even come on anymore. go ahead, blame that on me, it gets worse. i smashed the phone. so i walked back up to my tent, and tried to just lay down and go to sleep, hoping the alcohol would help me pass out. well, around two am, i puked myself awake in true jimi hendrix style, except that i didn't die. i puked inside my tent, are you smelling this situation yet. also, keep in mind this whole time, i've got bugs living inside my clothes. see how well your sanity would do with something like that. shit crawling on your skin, twenty four fucking seven. go ahead, i'll wait. give me two weeks of that and tell me you can still resist stabbing someone in a world where you seriously do not agree with the way they do shit. go ahead.

so, around two am, i puked myself awake. i got out of my tent drunk off my ass, and proceeded to stumble thru the streets in a drunken stupor. i just wanted a lady to show my cock to, that's all i fucking wanted. please, god, just give me one good thing to end this fucking horrid day with. a smiling set of eyes, please. there were no women out last night at two am. oh, yeah, and i forgot one of the best parts. when i puked myself awake and got out of my tent... i was really drunk and stumbling, so i of course destroyed my tent. just trying to stand up straight. destroyed my tent. it cannot be fixed, it's gone. all my shit inside there. and today was the last day i had to move my tent to another piece of grass where people won't evict me. are you seeing how ridiculous this is getting yet. i'm in a library i got kicked out of, smelling like puke, just to tell someone this, and i have no one to tell. you still keeping your sanity? good fuckin' for you. i destroyed my tent, puked all over everything in it, but the worst fucking part. you want to hear the worst fucking part? i puked all over perry's mousepad. the last thing i had held onto for this long. my neck refuses to pop, even though i declared war on it, and sent a few nukes last night, my neck still will not fucking pop. how's your sanity doing? smelling like puke yet? whiskey spaghetti puke? are you hanging on with me, on this wonderful little rollercoaster ride of sanity. i destroyed my tent, destroyed my phone, and puked all over perry's mousepad. my feet might actually have frostbite, and i need to be signed into a hospital before i kill someone. i've been begging for help this whole time, keep that in mind, but i assure you, they'll just blame it all on me.

i've got a problem with a world where i can't afford the slightest bit of sanity. where there are six billion people consuming products, and i can't get a single one of them to care enuph about me to scrape me up off the streets, and help me smell better. i have a serious problem with you fuckers. i also have a problem with this world, where if i had an idea, a solution to overcome this homeless problem, i already know for a fact that the people in charge of the tight little fascism festival known as windows phone eight, and those other assorted assmaggots and fuckclowns, would say no to my dream. i know they would. oh, you don't think so, you doubt that? okay, well, here's my idea, then, smartass, since you need proof like christians need proof of evolution when they base their faith on... zero evidence. yeah, those assfucks. here's my idea. the shit that they're making these smart phones out of? you know, all the plasticky crap. get nasa to start mass producing this shit, and build high tech houses out of. oh, fuck nasa, they're not doing anything else anyway, we've only got one fucking moon, how much of a space program did reagan really need. or even carter, who i was born under. i love that fucking term, make me sound submissive from my day of birth, yeah. i'm sitting in a library i got kicked out of, smelling pot, which is always a really... it's fucking hell for me to smell pot when i don't have any. i don't guess anyone could understand that enuph to sympathize. i couldn't squeeze sympathy out of you fuckers if i had one of those orange juicer things... i'm smelling pot, and i can't have any of it because humanity is selfish, and we're all too concerned with security and keep that nasty fucker away from me. that's where humanity's at right now. i've got no one to tell this story to. my heart is so fucking... my last little fiber of sanity is gone. you want to question that? doubt that? debate that? okay, doc, since you always have so much to say about my sanity, like you know it better than me, go ahead, let's hear what you've got. 'oh, well, it's all your fault, and you whine too much'. thanks, doc, here's a kick in the nuts as payment for something i didn't need again. go fuck yourself. i think i know my mind better than you do, how's that for a theory. i'll enforce it with the first gun i find. don't fuck with me.

i'm one of those guys, you see them once in a while thru history, i'm one of those guys, the guys you just don't fuck with. you can see it in their eyes, they will hurt you. well, our ancestors were a little lax on the teachings, and that's not my fault. i am full of passion, and desperately trying to save what little of myself i have left, and no one is listening. out of six billion of you earless fucks, not a single one of you can have enuph heart to listen to me. that's just the beginning of my day today. my tent is broken, it has puke in it, my phone is destroyed, and at this point, i just need to be signed into a hospital before i kill someone. if i get strapped down to another bed, i will kill someone. i will prove that you fuckers don't listen for shit. i've been screaming for this help for too long now, without being heard. that is wrong. your parents should have taught you that, but blame me, your beloved scapegoat, just because they didn't. go ahead, make my fuckin' day. when i finally start shooting people, every single one of you idiots is going to listen to what cnn says about me, and you're all going to blame me, because you cannot possibly handle that blame yourself. you couldn't take responsibility for that if you actually understood it. and you still call yourselves responsible. i laff at that. just so you know. but when i finally go off and start shooting people, it will be because i have gone without proper care and help for too long now, and that is not good. you people cannot do that. i live in a world where everyone can have a nice comfy cozy home to sit in every night, and... this is just a fraction of what i have to deal with, and you fuckers think that's so fair, that you can come kick me off this piece of grass... yeah, okay, where's the sign saying i can't be there. show me that fucking sign, and i'll show you a little piece of logic called 'signs' by tesla. it's an old tune, we've all forgotten about it, but it should have taught us something. i have a major problem with each and every one of you fuckers, and i'm about to turn this into a game show where you all lose, but you all win by learning what the fuck you've been doing wrong this whole godfucking time. does that sound fair to you? how about if i just stab you, and move on to the next intelligence quotient. i'm a firm believer that everyone needs to have their iq stamped on their foreheads, and if you can only listen for ten seconds before interrupting... that's your iq.

so, with all this being said, i'm saying goodbye to you all for a while. i need to be hospitalized before i do something i don't want to do. you can debate that with your semantics all you want, but you're just looking like idiots in my eyes, if that could even matter to you. that's exactly, precisely how careless and heartless you fuckers have become, and i plan to... well... in a poetic way, which you still don't understand... i'm about to do some open heart surgery on this entire planet. hope you enjoy your broken puke tent, a busted ass useless fucking phone, and bugs. they're like my tenants, and whenever i catch a few doing something they're not supposed to be doing... being seen by me, that is... i evict a few of them. i love feeling the power. it makes me feel completely insane, which is how i gauge sanity, and you fuckers couldn't understand that if it was on wikifuckin'pedia. so kiss my hairy black fucking ass, i'm trying to salvage what's left of my own sanity right now, so i don't start killing you all. but i would love to, instead of going to a hospital and wasting my time being treated like i'm stupod, i would much rather walk into a microsoft store somewhere, and say 'hey, i've got an idea, who do i talk to'. i have a dream, who do i talk to. point me in the direction of people who give birth to dreams, i'm pregnant with a big mutherfucker, and we're gonna need a c section stat. nurse, get the fuckin' scalpel. don't fuck with me. i'd love to walk up to whoever controls the ideas of this wretched planet, and tell them my big donkin' zinger. yeah, this plastic crap they make smart phones out of. get nasa to start mass producing this shit, and build houses out of it. they're portable, they fold up into a little case, they can be plugged in and charged anywhere, they keep you warm, and i'll sell 'em to you fucks dirt cheap. dirty deeds, done dirt cheap! high voltage, mutherfucker. i've got big balls, and you're about to see 'em. get an eyefull, get a real gander goin' on there. i still feel like puking again. i feel so goddamned... i can't even find the words. i hate alcohol, this is what it does to your life, and that's why i don't fucking drink. it would behoove you fucks to keep me on a constant supply of pot, but you'd charge yourselves too much, and you'd bitch and whine too much, while refusing to hear my solution. selfishness, greed, paranoia, policy, fascism, security, fear, it's all going out the fucking window. i just wish someone could be a fan of mine while i'm doing this. but they way i see you fucks, no one will even thank me when i'm done. and you wonder why i hate you. you wonder why my sanity is this fragile. but you won't even ask me the question, let alone let me answer it. and you think you care. you think you have a heart when you go to fuckin' abercrombie and buy your little (red) bag that donates twenty percent of your pants purchase to whoeverthefuck.com, yeah, that's caring. get your latté, your fuckin' prius, your designer jeans and your fuckin' chihuahua, and fucking die already. take all that fucking trash with you, would you please. i say we pick a volcano on this planet, and give it a little fuel. throw some shit in there we don't need, as a collective of mature responsible creatures, i want us all to stand on that volcano, and decide all together, hey, this fuckin' beiber asshole, we don't need him, and we all vote together, the æyes have it, toss the little bitch in there. hey, windows phone eight, do we need this? no? toss it in there. guns? meth? heroin? blonde skank snacks that don't put out? toss 'em in there. lawmakers? republicans? fascists? moneygrubbing greedmongers? people who retail fear? hey, i think we just evolved.

so that's my day, folks. that's my wonderful morning that i have woken into. i have no choice but to lock myself up, because i'm trying to save your fuckers lives. that's not how crusaders and conquerors are born. how do you think genghis khan got started. did he ask a therapist for help, or do you think he just bravely picked up a gun and started reinventing reality. you'll never understand what i am, speaking thru these lips from the other side of reality. you can't see me. you refuse to try. you won't ask me a single question, you couldn't listen to the answer if we had duct tape, what good are you. why are you here, you're taking up space, you need to go. warriors, conquerors, crusaders... and you people think because you have a smart phone... you're safe. your phone won't protect you from shit. your society, your leaders, they won't protect you if i come for you. what security are you even paying for. you don't need security, you need logic. i've been saying that all along, and have proven that you fuckers aren't listening. but all you need is logic. just sit someone down at a table and think of something, that's literally all it takes. but you refuse because the dollars tell you those people need to be in prison, and stripped of all their choices that could keep sanity functioning properly in their fuckin' soggy muffin heads. i fucking hate you all, i hate so much, that i can't even find the words anymore. and after getting another bad message from perry anyway... my heart is dead, my sanity is gone, and i thank you all for a wonderful trip thru your fuckfest. your disaster plaster. i fucking hate you all, and i will invent a better way out of this, whether you like it or not. and if people that say no too much have to die in that process, that's not my fault, they were standing in the way of a bulldozer, and their parents should have taught them not to do that, but since they didn't, that's one string of ancestors we no longer need here, and i say we start populating this planet with more yes mouths. people who say no to dreams should be shot. if you even start to debate that, you'll be shot, too. the future is no time for pussies, ladies and gentlemen. kick your balls up, or there's the volcano.

good fucking riddance.