taking the land back

fact: the british came over here, slaughtered the native americans... which... i just call them natives, i'm part native, and they were here before there was an america, so... natives. british came over here, slaughtered most the natives, left the rest in reservations and poverty. we know that story. don't we?

fact: they titled something 'the american dream', and let a bunch of... well... from what i see, being homeless, and walking into seven elevens and burger kings... all these dot indians and asians, who seem so hateful of poor white people... which... makes no sense to me... they work in a seven eleven. poor people territory. it's not a five star fuckin' restaurant, but they seem to think so. what i've noticed, the dot indians and asians come over here, hoping for a better life, and they get stuck working at a fuckin' seven eleven with scum walking into their store all day, and hey, i get it, i sympathize, i don't like them either, they're hostile, incoherent drug addict thieves, i get it. you were ripped off. no one asked what the american dream was intended to be to this day, and i find that disturbing.

so, i ask why. why are those asians and dot indians allowed to come over here, set up shop, and harass poor people? the poorer you are, the more they'll harass you. if you're homeless and they can tell? you're fucked, they don't have to have a reason to harass you. josh and i walked into the seven eleven we had been good customers at for at least three months, and out of the blue, the jackass boss says to us, 'we no longer allow homeless people'. i said 'you're discriminating against your biggest customer'. but they got an attitude, started having a problem with us, wouldn't let it go, and now we can't go back in there. very mature.

but it's that 'we have the right to refuse service to anyone' mentality. it's not anyone. they have to say that to keep from getting in trouble themselves. but you know who the fuck it is.

now, i get it, people with homes, you have a reason to not trust homeless people, i get it. most of them are thieves, because they're too poor to afford their own shit, so they have to steal yours, and that's a big deal, i get it, i don't like having my shit stolen by rich people, so we're even. my life was completely shredded simply because i wasn't rich enough to keep it. once the rich people came knocking, i had to go, and leave my life behind. any rich people ever have to deal with that? i don't fuckin' think so. moving on.

homeless people are also drug addicts, but look at it this way. your leaders, the american government, put those bad drugs on the streets. sure, they'll sell you excuses, like 'no, some crackhead named reggie thought up meth in the eighties', or 'it was all richard pryor's fault', but no, let's all act like adults here, we know the truth, all you have to do is watch that documentary 'american drug war: the last white hope', made by kevin booth, a friend of bill hicks. so if you want to blame someone, you can only blame yourself for supporting a system who put poor people on bad, manmade drugs, instead of the ones that grow out of the fucking ground, which the system already demonized through the last century. if you don't know your history, get the fuck out of this debate right now. cause it ain't a fuckin' debate. i'm telling you the fuckin' truth, if you're dumb enough to debate that, go back to moron school.

okay, so, we have poverty, lack of choices, desperation, drug addiction, hopelessness, lack of answers, thievery, fear, distrust, and tension growing between two sides of a very volatile coin. i see both mentalities trying to coexist in the same habitats. concrete. tall buildings. suits, ties, briefcases. right next to panhandling signs and heroin needles. and the two seem to coexist in this extremely unstable... those homeless people are fuckin' nuts, i've seen it, anything can set them off at any second, you ever seen a loose hand grenade? pieces rattling around inside, pin's out, but it just hasn't blown yet? that's the mentality of more than half of the homeless people you see on the streets. but they've got their excuse, they've been fucked in the head by some pretty diamond encrusted cocks. you know those crystals you see in the souvenir stores? big purple ones straight out of the cave? amethyst and all that? those big fuckin' crystal stones? imagine that going up your ass, into your head, fucking every bit of sanity out of you, killing your heart, fucking up your intestines, liver, lungs, shredding the shit out of you, mind, body, and spirit, exhausting you, and leaving you with anger issues, trauma, and on and on and on. you'd be pretty fucked, too.

now, you've seen those navy seals training videos? of the shit they have to go through, showing endurance, stamina, mental strength? all that shit? torture, training, more torture, more training... yeah? if you're not seeing a connection by now, you probly should have left this debate last time i asked. cause it ain't a fuckin' debate.

generations of this. people have died. and we're desensitized to all of it, we've been conditioned to not care, some of us are aware of that, most aren't, but we're just lost in this pool of confusion, not knowing what to do, if we did, we know we couldn't do it alone, what's the point, someone has to think of the answers who's in charge, cause they have the money, and there's so many people... stop right there. they keep using the excuse that they do not have the money, there is no money, we're in a multitrillion dollar national debt, whatever the fuck that is, and rich do not give to the poor, they have no reason to, these are people who are no longer willing or capable of being a functional part of the monetary society. hell, i see fat people dressing up all pretty and having a go at trying to fit in, and make their way in this society with only a legally paper proven education, but no talent or vision, lost in a dead end job the rest of their lives, miserable, barely making enough to pay rent... but that's where they keep the 'middle class' for a reason. those are the 'hard working americans who are the backbone of this country, and helped build it', so they're patriotic and they go along with it, and wear american flag baseball caps and drive ford trucks, and shoot their guns once a year, either forth of july, or halloween. i've seen it. fat average americans who know they'll never fit in enough to get those billions, but they're happy just paying off the mortgage, as long as they can buy their beer every night. they're happy with one woman their whole lives, they think their children are special, and they keep to themselves most the time, unless their neighbor phil comes over. that's america. the freedom to do whatever you want, as long as it's within the lines of the standard recommended american family dosages, so says the fda, and we all listen to and trust the fda, cause they're not the cia or nsa. ooo fucking kay.

conditioning through generations to separate, segregate, and divide, not seeing selfishness, fear, greed, or paranoia taking over. through the eighties, we saw the rise of senseless violence. rapes, murders, shootings, drugs, the show cops. i learned a lot more than you think from that show. i learned a lot more about humanity than you think. but go ahead and debate me, i'm sure you know more, and i should just be educated by you. i should be in awe of your expertise, i should bow to you, and i'm the one who loves the sound of my own voice, yes, sir, captain america, sir! aye eye, cap'n. yes master, right away master. oh, let me serve thee, your holiness, your highness! thank you for letting me serve thee, lord! xmen! i'm glad i have my own two thumbs. the day they take those away, is the day i pull the pin on this little grenade. you don't need a thumb for that.

now, please, pay attention. you're homeless. your life has been destroyed, you're left with nothing but mental trauma. what do you do. you have no answers. there's no one you can turn to. the answers being offered are horseshit and you know it. religion, churches, they feed the poor, but do they really care. can you trust the food you're being given? fuck no. if you think you can, you're about as retarded as they want you to be. you all know that religion is not our answer. since when has the lord blessed you? he certainly blessed america, but when it came to you, i guess that voicemail got deleted accidentally? sure, keep telling yourself that while you're standing down the street from a billionaire shooting a movie about himself. like he's actually doing anything. he's sitting on his ass the entire time on one of those comfy movie chairs. although, i'm a human with legs and thumbs, i don't see how those could be comfortable, but okay, rich people sit on some stupid shit, they design some stupid looking furniture and call it 'interior design', and sell that shit like candy, they also eat some really retarded shit, and i can prove that in any given white box scenerio. and that's how you should spell scenerio, cause some dumb cunt i shouldn't have known used to put too much of an accent on there like a douchebag, and even rolling her 'r' like she thought she was fuckin' french or some shit, if you can't use the word right, don't fuckin' use it, you fuckin' twatfish. if i even think that word in my head again, someone's gonna die. oh yeah, and her and the name 'javier'. if i ever hear that name again... same scenaarrrdio. deep fried cunt.

anyway. churches are not the answer. religion is not the answer. god has not been answering your prayers. obviously. you can live in denial all you want, or you can accept the fucking truth like a responsible adult. you've been fucked for a while now. there is no god. he's not on the back of your dollar bill, he's not the one feeding you free dinner on the side of the street every night, he's not signing papers in the white house, and he's damn sure not telling those idiots what to do. if you think they're listening to the same god you are, there is no hope for you. there will never be an answer for you. i can only offer an answer to the people who are willing to accept it. to grow the fuck up, and realize that this is the truth, this is the world we are trapped in, and we have to make it better now, or it will never happen. we cannot wait more generations, as more of us die with no hope. we can think we're not special, or we can be special. it's our choice, not the people who raised us and told us we'd never be anything.

right now, i want everyone reading this, to take a step back from their lives, flip those people off, and look at something else.

find something that makes you you.
find something that makes you who you are.
find something that tells you who you want to be.
something that's not a product of any kind. or a product belief.
no price tag attached.
no rules attached.
look at your own life, outside their box.
find something that makes you feel like yourself.
not a movie.
not a song.
not a type of food.
not even a passion or a talent.
not a taught piece of knowledge.

tell you what, i know i'm cutting a ton of shit out of your normal day.

go outside and lay down in the grass. smoke a joint. get stoned, fall asleep, and dream something.

when you wake up, sit there for a few hours, just looking at the sky.

by the way, if you never get to do this in your life, you're missing out.
how the fuck are you gonna tell me you know a fucking thing about the truth when you haven't even done this.

now, point in a direction. stand up, put your finger forward, and point.

feel your heart follow your finger, feel your heart WANT to chase after it.

now, before you start running through the grass like a buffoon, stop yourself, and let that want go.

that's no longer your want. let it be someone else's. let it go.

try again.

think of something ELSE that defines you uniquely, as opposed to anyone else. something that makes you proud.

that thought, that idea, that concept, whatever it is that you come up with, you're going to fold that one up and stick it in your back pocket. that's going to be your currency that's going to get you there.

now, you're going to think of a third thing. something that doesn't define you uniquely. something that makes you feel like you're a part of a collective, all of us, humanity, as a whole, on this planet, one united mind, one active choice.

something, that if you wore it on your shirt, everyone would give you a thumbs up as you walk down the street. something to connect you with everyone else. something all of humanity can get behind. can you think of it?

yeah, fuck no, you can't. cause nothing like that exists yet, and that's the fuckin' problem. what answer would you offer to someone with that look of hope and opportunity on their faces? the american dream? i think we've already returned that with a receipt enough times to get the fuckin' hint. fuck that, fuck you, and fuck the creator of it right up his diamond encrusted asshole. it ain't amethyst, he's spent too much time in thousand dollar restaurants.

rich people eat some morbid, greasy, nasty fucking shit, man. i'm glad i've never tried caviar. something tells me it'll kill my brain cells. and animals that no human should ever eat, or at least that's what the earth tells me.

cow, pig, chicken... edible. deer, baby cow, salamander, shrimp (like goatscag, aka, the mother of my hellspawn, obsessed with shrimp, i'd take her to a mexican restaurant, she'd get a fuckin' shrimp burrito, every time. i finally stopped wasting my money, and i'd only feed myself. fuck you, i ain't holding the door for you anymore, you signed my kids away, you scagwrench. you fuckin' putrid scrotal disease. goddamn goatsack. like a roach crawling on your skin, man, ewghughflibbityhaack! i'm glad i smoke. that's an animal you can eat, but i won't be there)... not edible. nature shouldn't have to grow that message into a fuckin' tree stump for us to see. stick a stick in a fish, pull it out of the water, set it on fire, and fuckin' swallow it. that's nature, fuckweed. no gun required, you overamped fuckin' steroid. when the neanderthal is needed again for history class, we'll let you know. till then, sit down, shut up, and learn how to flip a burger, jackass. feed someone other than yourself for once. do something earth might appreciate.

your life has been taken from you. you're left with nothing. just mental trauma, constant harassment, no quiet place to call your own, no door you can shut to keep the world out. what would you do. what answer would you be looking for, and what answer could you offer to others. you've got zero cash in your pockets, no bible, and you couldn't get a job if you wanted to. you're too ugly, too stupid, addicted to bad drugs, and a legal tail longer than your leaders'.

sure, hand them a bible, that'll help. it has before, right? yeah, but how would you finish that sentence. how do you always finish that sentence? every fuckin' time, what's the last thing you have to tack on there. come on, you know it, don't hide in denial from me, not right now. be brave, what's the one thing you always fucking say right there.

come on, spit it out.

'if they follow the word correctly' or whatever phrasing, yes, yes, there it is. we all know it.

you have to pray harder.
you have to be worthy of the lord's attention among so many others, cause he's busy with santy clause, right?

did they kill the easter bunny and make chicken nuggets out of him?

that cupcake's got some santa clause beard hangin' off it, if you know what i mean. uh huh huh.

'git r done' on my hat, with a fishing lure shaped like a fish hangin' off the 't' for 'titties'. that's america!

america! fuck yeah!

okay, put your cock away, let's be adults now.

fuck you, i am an adult, nascar is better than you, patuey! goes the tabasco flavoured tabacky. slim jim style. sparky, get me a beer.

yeah, okay, let you have a little proud moment there. great. back to the topic. pay attention.

you're homeless. got nothin'. you walk into a seven eleven with a pocket sized bible hangin' off your belt, some canister you don't remember where you got it, and you walk in there to get your morning coffee minus taste buds, you're three cents short, and the seven eleven clerk... who takes his job way too seriously, and doesn't quite realize his place in the world, thinks he's king of the seven eleven customer world, sits on his throne of soda can cases, waving his magic wand of fascism, which looks like a slim jim with a fishing lure shaped like a fish danglin' off the end of it. cause there's no 't' in slim jim, unless it's the tabasco flavoured one. the clerk... cause god forbid it's the manager... the clerk harasses you, and says 'no, you get out of my store, you no come back! you too poor to shop here, you stay avay! i call secooority!'.

the security guard comes and tasers you, calls the cops, which are just next paygrade up security guards, amped up on more hostility and steroids, and probly the meth they're filling the streets with, cause who's doing drug tests for that? you forget that the only drug that stays in your system long enough to be detected through most drug tests is still just marijuana, right? the most demonized and ironically most harmless drug on the face of this earth. did you forget that, cause i could force you to watch that documentary. these are all mandatory to become an evolutionist anyway, so you might as well get started some time. you should learn what priorities are, too. but anyway, i'm rambling about senseless shit, moving on.

now, you're observing, i hope, that mister asian dude, who manages a seven eleven of all places... hates poor people.

dude, i'm sorry that you're one step away from homelessness yourself, but that's no reason to shit on us while you still have a chance.

'no, you steal from my store'. first of all, no, i didn't. secondly, what could i possibly steal, that would put you out of business, and hurt you so bad, that you need to take your aggressions out on me at this moment? what could possibly provoke you to get so hostile with me over buying a hot fuckin' chocolate? i come in here every morning, wave at you, pay for my hot chocolate, and i always pay extra, and this one morning, you have to bitch at me. why?

are they coherent enough to answer you? fuck no.
do they shut up long enough to listen? fuck no.
do they have to listen to a word you say? fuck no.
if you explained it to the cops, would they give a fuck? fuck no.
if you called a lawyer, would any of this even matter? fuck no.
are they mature, responsible, and coherent enough to be working at a fucking seven eleven? fuck no!
that's why they're working at a fucking seven eleven!

they were sold the american dream!
so they dreamed of a fancy french restaurant with only dot indians allowed!
now they work in a fucking seven eleven, barely making rent each month!
yeah, i'd be fucking pissed off, too! but not enough to discriminate with racist hatred and greedy opinionated prejudice. fascism, tyranny, oppression... that whole fuckin' pyramid, but 'it's not to blame, stop blaming your problems on society!' why? i say it's time to blame society. you fuckers are at fault, and i'm gonna shove that down your throat against your will. i'm gonna shove that up your ass against your will. i will rape that into your ear hole, because that's exactly what you've done to me my whole life, and yes, you are at fault. you are to blame.

why? because you are society.

go ahead. call a lawyer. could you possibly, in all maturity, make this matter? fuck no!

you know why?

that little sign right above their head.

remember?

'we have the right to refuse service to anyone'.

seems to me like they shouldn't have that right.
are they going to refuse service to keanu fuckin' reeves? fuck no.
would they refuse service to laurence fishburn? fuck no.
would slave refuse to serve mister joel silver? fuck no.

if keanu reeves walked into a seven eleven, he would be catered to. how may i serve thee, lord!
thank you for giving me a glimpse at your holyness, sir! here's a free donut, it's the best i have to offer!

but we all know, that keanu reeves played a role based on a character who's very reminiscent of... me.

but no one remembers the outlaw. ever since nineteen ninety fuckin' nine, all i hear from you idiots is 'trench coat mafia' or 'the matrix', but you morons have no clue what either of those pussies were actually reaching toward.

they can't even afford to dream of achieving my greatness.

i'm not neo. i'm not a couple of angstridden teenagers, either.

no, i am the person they were trying so hard to act like.

i am an outlaw.

it's time you updated your dictionary definitions. see, chaos is for stupid people.

anarchy is for outlaws.

get it fucking straight, or don't speak on the topic.

people who think knowledge is evil? i want you to see them be the first to go. as my first little offering of truth to you. to follow me into no longer following.

no more mental issues. no more acting. no more pretending. no more lunacy. no more idiocracy.

do they care that you don't have the money to keep yourself clean enough to come into their store? fuck no.
do they care that you were woken up by the cops this morning, and that's why you're in a bad mood? fuck no.
they're in the bad mood because of you.

and the only thing they really own, is that little sign above their heads.

'we have the right to refuse service to anyone'.

because that store is basically an extension of their home. you're in their store, like you're in their home, like you're in their life.

would they ever be caught dead shopping in your store, whatever it may be? fuck no.

do they support their communities properly? fuck no.

do you pray hard enough to their god? fuck no.

are you worthy of forgiveness from an allforgiving god? fuck no.

are you worthy of forgiveness from them, so that you may shop in their store again? fuck no.

if you were forgiven, would you want to continue shopping there with your ptsd making you feel like it's the house you were raped in? fuck no.

are you able to find another seven eleven spot that's good for panhandling? without a smartphone and google maps?

are you mentally capable right now? fuck no.

what do you want to do? lay the fuck down. can you? fuck no.

it's not illegal to lay on a sidewalk. but if the cops stop you, yes, it's illegal to lay on a sidewalk, cause they can get you for whatever the fuck ludicrous crime they want. if you throw a cigarette butt, they'll get you for littering. doesn't matter if it was a butt you picked up and only took the last three hits off of, doesn't matter if that cigarette butt is doing less damage to the earth than the concrete it's landing on, doesn't fucking matter, your life is now officially legally fucked for the next ten years, financially and otherwise, simply because you weren't a good enough slave. you're sleeping on concrete, and they still expect you to pick up your trash... a: the concrete is earth trash already. b: they have people come along and clean the street. whether the street cleaners, or other housed people 'volunteering', or other homeless people trying to make a few bucks, there's always someone coming along to clean up some of that trash.

i've asked security guards before.

do you think i'm some piece of trash you can just kick further down the road cause you don't like me?
do you think i'm your fucking slave? that you can tell me what to do because you own me?
do you think you own this sidewalk, so you can dictate that i can't be here, where i can and can't be?

because the truth is, no. i'm not a piece of trash you can kick further down the road.
no, i'm not your fucking slave, no, you cannot tell me what to do, no, you don't own this sidewalk.

you need to grow the fuck up and realize that.

are they coherent enough to understand you? fuck no.
do they speak enough english to properly understand anything? fuck no.
and they're in your country, you're supposed to be patriotic and stand behind.
they're in your country, not speaking a word of your language, and telling you incoherently to get out, never having to tell you why at any moment, yelling at you, getting hostile and possibly violent, no matter how much you tell them you're nonviolent, then they call the security guard, who just calls the cops, so i don't even know what the security guard's job is, other than snitch and bitch. whine, harass, bitch some more. shout, act mature. repeat.

maybe throw in a little discrimination and profiling if it suits the situation.

i tried to walk into an in&out burger one day. a family of asian people walks in, i walk in right behind them, and the security guard, black guy, holds the door open for everyone. when i get to the door, he asks me, 'are you buying something?'. i didn't answer him, walked into the public restroom, got my phone, and started timing. one minute later, he comes banging on the door, shouting like a gangster, without taking a breath...

do i need a lawyer for that one? could i do anything if it mattered? fuck no. will it ever matter? fuck no.

most of these people are the ones preaching about a judgement day.

i'm the one betting the most money on it. every dollar i'll ever make is in that wonderful little pot.
and you will never understand my sincerity on that. i hope to see all of you on judgement day, i've got the biggest reason to be there. you bet your ass, i'll have golden front row seats, my own spotlights, my own megaphones, three dimensional high definition five point one surround home theater enterbrainment feast. i want to see every fucking second of that show.

you think your god is coming back for a sequel. so that gives you the right to harass poor people? people you think you have a right to think them less than you, lower than you? whatever excuse you come up with right now, is going down in that book right there, and my bookie knows satan, cause satan was my grandmother, so you're fucked either way. i've got every dollar riding on judgement day, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

but i say, these people are waiting for their big sequel from the screen in the sky...

i say, they're never gonna get it. unless it's manufactured by their trusted leaders, with a upc symbol on the back. and a fishing lure shaped like a little fish hangin' off the 't'. copyright symbol, patents pending, trademark, you get it. some little fcc compliance warning, and the tag you can't legally remove without risk of jail time and fines.

i should pay you... why?
stick me in a concrete cage... why?
what have you ever done for me?
i built your machine, and you fuck me with it?
gee, thanks, dad.
or should i say... master.

is we slaves freed yet?

fuck no.

you get a paycheck, and you think you're free.
what did you have to do for that paycheck?
what you were fuckin' told. that's what.

and you'll never see it. the invisible pyramid in the sky. but you know there's a layer you can't go above, you're not allowed up there, but you just try not to think about it, and you go on through the years, as it gets darker and darker and night, and quieter, and quieter, and lonelier, and lonelier, and darker, and darker...

until you find yourself on that street corner. one in the morning.

no one around but some crackhead a block down screaming at the street light cause he's on so much meth, for so many months now, that he thinks the street light is something to scream at.

incoherency.
confusion
blur.

how did you get here?
fuck if you know, but it's all your fault, whatever it was.
and you're a good little slave, you sit and blame yourself.

if only i hadn't shot that dog, my mama wouldn't have gotten angry and gone to jail, and my kids wouldn't have been taken, and i'd still have my house, but that dog kept barkin', cause the neighbors were methheads, and now you're standing on a street corner... doing what? acting how responsible and mature about what happened?

what are you holding in your hand?

the thing that destroyed it all, aren't you?

trust me, i know, it's the same fuckin' thing in my case. i mean, except for the drugs, my iq is way to high to ever be a drug addict, but my life was destroyed by a genetic turd circus, blamed on me, and now here i am, still not dumb enough to touch a drug even out of hopelessness or desperation. but you know, i'm right there with ya. stop giving me a bad fuckin' name in seven eleven, first of all.

but try getting this idea through to anyone.
try getting anyone to understand your position.
another homeless person? fuck no.
a business man? fuck no.
a politician? fuck no.
a church? fuck no.
seven eleven store clerk? fuck no.
cops? lawyers? judges? fuck no.

your legal system has abandoned you, and you can't admit it to yourself yet.
your religion has abandoned you, and you can't admit it to yourself yet.
your employment system took a shit on you, and you can't admit it to yourself yet.
everyone on the pyramid level above you, took a shit on you, and kicked you down.
maybe not out of selfishness, maybe just from not looking down, but you got fucked.

either way, you're standing underneath a pyramid, looking up at it, and i'm begging you just to admit that you do not have the answer.

because i have the answer.

i'm selling the evolution solution.

go up to northern montana, right next to the canadian border. cause that's where the earth is telling me there will be no natural disasters or bad weather for a while. trust me or not, how would you know any better.

start building a community.

have it be nonmonetary. nonviolent.

implement a religion based on psychedelic vs psychotic.

start forming your own technology and use it to design portable high tech housing.

build a stage and give everyone a fair shot at having their voice, their story, heard.

now, after about five years of this functionality, being a self sufficient community, communicating together on a daily basis, let that go on for about five years, and then compare it to the outside world.

what is violence?
where is the hostility?
what is fair? what is unfair?

i'll pay you a thousand dollars per answer. just to hear it from someone else's mouth other than my own.

cause you apathetic fuckers never say shit.

i'll read someone my song, 'i'm bringing thinking back', and then ask them, 'what did you think'...

you know what big passionate reaction i always get?

'cool'.

you know those essays you used to have to write in school, where the teacher would tell you to write a thousand words on abraham lincoln?

if you turned in a paper that had 'cool' written in crayon, possibly misspelled, what would the teacher say to you?

she wouldn't say anything, would she?

she'd smack you upside the fuckin' head, then she'd call your mother, and then your mother would smack you upside the fuckin' head, and you would go to bed that night with an empty belly and a pillow full of tears, wouldn't you?

see, there's the killer. for me at least.

i don't think death is any way to learn your lesson.

when i die, that's the earth's way of saying 'now you get to start over. better luck next time, jackass'.

and then you get to pick from cow, pig, or chicken.

to learn your lesson... dying is obviously not going to do it.

to get these rich, greedy fucks to learn their lesson.

death doesn't teach anything.
greed doesn't teach anything.
violence doesn't teach anything.
schools don't teach a fuckin' turd.
prison certainly doesn't teach you your lesson, and if you learn it, and get out... are you able to use it? fuck no.
god doesn't teach anything.
dollar bills don't teach anyone shit.
of all the tools we have at our disposal, not a fuckin' one of them actually teaches anything, but we sure think we're educated to the highest standards possible, don't we? and any knowledge beyond that is evil, or classified.

ask me what my iq is, go ahead. ask me.

'what's your iq'.

it's classified and way above your pay grade.

ask me what my intelligence standards are, go ahead.

'what are your intelligence standards'.

higher than yo mama's.

we feel so educated.
we're the be all end all to human existence on this planet.
and consumerism is the be all end all to human existence on this planet.
and we're not uneducated products living in denial and plastic fear.

but all the tools we have to educate us?

jail...
jobs...
gods...
dollars...
suits and ties...
lies...
gathering flies...

i think i already wrote that fuckin' song. hmm.

so what are we left with?
can we admit yet that it's bum fuckin' nothing?

no answer.
no religion.
no help.
no hope.
no faith.

can't rely on anyone.
can't depend on anyone.

possibly... just possibly... no one knows you fuckin' exist. yet you have to verify your identity and identify yourself constantly to these people who... should never have the right to see your fuckin' face, honestly. based solely on how much of a fuck they give about you.

the only thing that's kept you alive, the only thing you can depend on, rely on, the only thing that's guaranfuckingteed to be there every morning, is the earth. the ground you fucking sleep on. the sun will rise.

with or without you.

what answer do you have?

more importantly...

which answer would you like?

an old one?

or a new one?

one that's stagnant and unchanging?
or what that's fluid and evolving?

one born from the rich and set in place for your cooperation?
or one born from poverty, as a solution with no cooperation required.

when you discover what maturity is...
when you discover what paranoia is...
when you see the difference...

you will know the true meaning of anarchy.

you will understand that it is not chaos.
chaos is what comes after retarded minds no longer have anything to hold onto for security.
but those of us who sleep on the earth every night, and could never afford that security...

anarchy means that security guard that's about to wake you up by poking his finger in your chest and shouting at you... that cop that's about to wake you up and tell you to move, that you can't be there...

anarchy means that those fuckers are fuckin' dead. they have to leave you alone, because their bones are each about three hundred miles apart. that's anarchy. anarchy means that you wake up every morning without the need for them. because you're part of a responsible, mature, adult community, who picks up their own fuckin' trash, because they barely produce any. a community who, when you wake up every morning, there's breakfast on the fuckin' table, guaranteed, no bitching required. imagine having a job you love doing again.

i say, let the fearful retards drown in their prepackaged predicted chaos.
if that's the only thing they can see coming after they're no longer necessary...
let them drown in it.
let them wallow in it.
tears, blood, shit, cum, piss, lies, shame.
let them suffocate in it.
let them fucking choke on it.
let them fucking die in it.
let it consume them like they suck down a coke.
a fitting fate for a consumer, i'd say.
let them fucking drown in chaos.
if that's all their immature minds can conceive once their job is no longer required here...
if that's all their childish, fearful minds can predict will happen once money no longer exists...

let them fucking drown in it.

let them drown in their own fucking chaos and shame.

they created it, they get to fucking consume it, and let it consume them. i want no part of it.

if all you think comes after a monetary society is no longer necessary, is chaos... then fucking choke on it.

i hope it fucking ends you in a whimpering fucking shriek. i want to hear it, i want to see it, i want to enjoy it.

because after your chaos subsides... we will remain. and you fucking know that. you fear that. i hope that angers you. i hope that frustrates you. you get to inherit your karma as a fucking cow, asshole. our culture, we don't stop and let the cow sit on the road... you might have been an asshole in your last life, we eat you. that's logic. it's about as healthy as steak. i'd like to introduce you, but i'm busy eating.

the slogan on my building, just underneath 'the church of evolution'...
'fuck you, i'm eating'.

if you tell us the reference when you walk in the door, we'll fuckin' feed you. right then and there, no bitching, no whining, no immature little excuses like 'well he already came in once today', fuck you, eat this, shut up.

let chaotic minds drown in their own chaos. filth and shame, tears and cum.
let them fucking disappear with it.

because i know i will be standing there afterward. i know i'll get to hear that silence.

if you think the only thing that comes after this is chaos... i hope you never get to see what comes after this.

i hope every last one of you fearful, paranoid fucks actually dies, before we get to experience that.

a breath.
silence.
a moment.
the hum of the earth.
the vibration, the energy.
that silence you couldn't pay a trillion dollars for.
i see green papers raining from the heavens...
but not one person is touching them...
we have no need to.

chaos.

you fucking morons.

no, that would be anarchy.
i wish i could introduce you, but you weren't strong enough to stick around and see it.
couldn't handle the whole paranoia thing, so you fucking imploded like you should have.

good riddance.

peace and quiet.
nature.
echoes of winds.
the brightest sunset we've ever seen.
the most worthwhile sunrise we'll ever see.
open eyes.
open hearts.
open minds.
open futures.
possibilities.
potential.

and all you could think of was chaos. and you think you deserve to stick around to see it.

yeah, i'm praying for judgement day. and i will see you there.

drown in your chaos and shame, you fearful little fucks, you paranoid, panicky creatures. drown in it!

because you'll never get to see what actually happens. you're not good enough. you didn't pray hard enough.

you couldn't stretch your mind bravely enough.

you see, when we were slaves, we said 'we don't want to be your slaves anymore'. they said 'okay, how about if we offer you minimum wage?'. you gotta admit, minimum wage looked pretty tempting to a bunch of slaves. 'you mean, i get to work normal hours, and get myself a beer every night on the way home? wow!

but it seems like the very next day, the stock market crashed.

oh, we don't have anymore money. sorry!
we're in debt up to our tight, lying teeth, and our all seeing eye of tyranny. sorry!

you mean to tell me, your rich ass being driven around in a fuckin' bentley has no money. then what's that bloody green shit hangin' out your pocket, asshole? you mean to tell me that's a credit card with nothing on it? then why do you have it?

we're fresh out of those hot dollar bills you youngsters love so much. sorry!

here's a couple schillings, go get yourself a pack of candy and rot your teeth away so you'll never be as pretty and perfect as me. cause they know, that's all you can get for a couple fuckin' schillings.

is that why they called those guys... schills?

anyone remember that word?

yeah, no, if you can only think of chaos, you get to drown in that.

chaotic minds drown in chaos.
fearful minds drown in fear.
ignorant minds drown in ignorance.

those minds who can see past that line in time...
were born to deserve it from the beginning, and you fuckin' know it.
born outside of a society that was never going to accept you.
some of you tried to hang on, and i'll be the one to give you full credit for that.
you know damn sure they won't.

like fat people working in starbucks.
painting the pretty onto your faces.
trying to be attractive, trying to fit in.
trying to be an acceptable member of society.
because that's admired and smiled upon.

by who.

the guy your grandpappy used to clean shoes for?

'he's an honourable man'...
you know the answer to this...
what did that guy do that was so honourable?
fought for his boss. whether he was secret service and took a bullet for the president...
or he was a store owner that stopped a robbery in his own store.

you know the answer to that one.
deep down inside, underneath all that denial and conditioning, you know the fuckin' truth. stop denying it.

stand up against that asshole for once in your spineless fuckin' life.
tell them you're sick of being a minimum wage slave.
you're sick of pampering them, while they live in luxury, and you can barely afford your ride home, let alone the house you live in.

why does your biggest bill have to be the place you live?
why does your second biggest bill have to be your entertainment?
why does your third biggest bill have to be what you consume?
why does your fourth biggest bill have to be your transportation?
why do your children get to be your smallest bill?
kfc and beer every night, around a yard sale dinner table.
put the kids to sleep, fuck your wife every sunday, wake up every morning like a good boy.
grind your life away every day for a boss you would rather slaughter like a cow.

the community eye see?

where you lay your head is free.
what you put in your belly is free.
what you inhale into your lungs is free.
no one can tell you what to do.
but if you do something nice for someone other than yourself? you earn points.

how would you spend them?

i'll repeat that.

where you lay your head does not cost a dime.
what you put in your belly does not cost a dime.
what you inhale into your lungs does not cost a dime.

wash that insecure, selfish, paranoid society off of you.
god forbid you could go to a community built on the foundation of forgiveness, acceptance, and equality.
where every morning when you wake up, we all wake up equal.
when you wake up, you're welcome to go to the kitchen, fill your belly without saying a word.
while you're eating, you can smoke, drink hot chocolate, get stoned, start your day off right.
screw the right mindset onto your neck.
then, if you'd like, you can get on stage, tell your story, and not get boo'd off.
if the crowd gets bored, that's their fault, and if they really need to adjust their attention spans, they can leave the fucking audience. go off and smoke, sleep, and wake up more respectful and mature the next morning.

how's that sound?

if you enjoy working with food, you no longer have to clean toilets because that's the only job you could get. now you get to cook food for people who wouldn't complain if you paid them to. just cook the fucking rice long enough!

rule number one about cooking rice. it takes a lot longer to cook than you think.
rule number two about cooking rice. if you throw it at the wall and it sticks, it's done.
and the third and final rule about cooking rice. if you throw it at the wall, and it falls to the floor...

KEEP FUCKING COOKING!!!

simple as that.

see, at that point, there's really only going to be two jobs. there should only ever really be two jobs. everything else is distribution, marketing, and recording. if you cut all that self obsessed 'my career is better' horseshit, and get down to who needs to be fed, and where they can sleep, life gets a lot more enjoyable. you get to do what you want, because what you what to do, suddenly needs to be done, and is in rather high demand.

people need to be fed.
people need to sleep on something.

if you can't build a bed, get in the kitchen.
if you can't flip burgers, get a fuckin' hammer.

imagine...
someone walks up to you on the street...
says 'hey, man, did you hear?

there's this place where you can go, where, as soon as you walk in the gates, you're hired.
depending on what you can do, not what your criminal history says, or any of that shit.
your previous errors are forgiven as long as you flip a burger or build a bed.
if you used to work in fast food, get in the fucking kitchen.
if you used to work in construction, grab a fuckin' hammer'.

what would you say?

what if they said,

'i heard it's based on psychedelic vs psychotic,
and anything you turn into turd, ash, or drool, doesn't cost anything,
instead, if you do something nice for someone else, you get a point,
and you start off with six points every morning'.

what would you say?

and if they said 'in order to get in, you have to become psychedelic, and convert someone else'.
or 'if someone mistreats you who's not an evolutionist, their punishment is not death or prison, it's forced conversion'.

would you call it a cult yet?
would your leaders call it a cult yet?
can you picture waco, texas?
have you studied your history?
if you don't know about waco, fuckin' texas, you should keep your stupid mouth shut before you look any dumber.

my mama used to say, 'it's better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid, rather than open it and prove it'.

well, mama, i've learned that lesson, but i've got something to say that no one else is sayin'.

something that no one wants to hear.
something that no one is brave enough to admit.
something everyone else can afford to run in fear of.

and if i say this on television, mama... they gon' kill me.

but it has to be said.
because no one else is saying.

since none of you will say this, i have to say it.
thanks.

that's humanity lookin' out for my back, right?

yeah, we got yer back, bro!

fuck you. don't call me bro. you're not my fuckin' brother, you sure as hell act like it, you pansy sack of shit.

you scrotal infestation.

i ain't your fuckin' brother, asshole. if we were all family, we wouldn't have any homelessness, would we?

douchebag.

so we exist. complacent. in a society where dot indian / asian store clerk clone number one gets to harass us because we can't afford to shop at a fucking seven eleven of such reputable places, such high class places, we're too low on the scum totem pole to shop at scum of the earth incorporated.

that's open racism.
that's fascism.
that's discrimination.
that's profiling.
that's prejudice.

and if you disagree, you're worse than them.

if you can't admit that there's a war on poverty going on... you're on the wrong side.

or maybe you haven't chosen a side yet.

that's where i come in.

enter: evolution.

clues. answers. solutions. not just an advertising slogan backed by a fictional story without a sequel.

the actual logical conclusion that even their story wasn't looking for.

but we have evolved this far. now we just need to crack our head out of the shell, and take our first breath.

whaddayasay?

brave enough yet?

get that first big whiff of sunshine in those fragile little lungs?

are you ready yet? do you feel mature enough yet?

there's no reason to be afraid, my children.
fear is itself illogical, thus it is illogical to fear anything.

do you know what gymnophobia is? fear of nudity.
do you know what thanatophobia is? fear of death.

why on god's green earth would you ever have any reason to fear your own body?
why on god's green earth would you ever have any reason to fear the end of your own life that you'll never stop?

why on god's green earth would you ever be dumb enough to believe anyone else telling you this?

they could have a suit and tie, look real fuckin' legitimate, but i've seen some slimy drug dealers look higher class than the fuckin' secret service, if you think you're not being fooled and sold a bad drug, then please do me a favour sir, who so kindly volunteered for this little experiment, do me a favour, for the crowd's curiosity, would you go peak into that volcano for us, and tell the audience what you see.

uh... i see... uh... it looks real... deep... i see... uh... smoke... and uh... red stuff... and uh... aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!

join us next time on thumbs or no thumbs, when we see how donald trump behaves on sodium pentathol!

admit it. we have no answer.

and i see it when i walk into a seven fuckin' eleven.

asian dude behind the counter. no english in the brain. in my country, sittin' comfy.
and i'm supposed to be proud of the place i live?
dot indian dude sittin' comfy behind the counter, pushing buttons for a living.
click click, chaching, click click, chaching, take the change, give the change, sell that product over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and fucking over, cause it's fucking over!

harassing me because i'm not good enough to shop in a fuckin' seven eleven.

okay, master, how must i dress to be a customer in your store.
okay, mister, how must i act to be a consumer in your society?

hey, pops, if you can't tell your son which slave you want him to act like, how the fuck do you expect him to know?

hey, pops, if we're tired of acting like your slaves, can we kill you now, and get this shit over with?

hey, doc, if we're tired of you lying to us and making us believe it through patriotism, pride, fear, and stupidity...

can we talk now?
can we tell you how displeased we are with your little plan?

fuck no.

yeah, that's a big fuck no.

you think you can tell your leaders that you're unhappy?
you think they wanna listen to you, and how unhappy you are?
about how you lost your doggy named scuda, and your car named scooby.

your birth defect kids, your fat hateful wife, your regrets and grudges...

did you want those kids?
do they look that special to you?
they fell out of your fat wife's hateful mouth.
and the wrong one at that.
the one that actually shuts up once in a while.
you know, the nights when you sleep on the couch.

do you love her?
or is she an ugly clone of her mother?
fat, selfish, bitchy, hateful, opinionated, fearful, weak...
you could have had any woman, you could have had any kids...
this was all random and you're not brave enough to tell yourself that...
your father would have smacked that fact into you, and you know it...

and your children are special why?

because your wife showed them some movie one night, and you had a good night?
because you had time to form a connection and bond with those kids?

you know damn well, if you had kissed the redhead that day...

this would all be very different.

if you were born in los angeles instead of new jersey.
if you were born in pakistan instead of los angeles.
if you were born in korea instead of pakistan.

what the fuck difference does it really make what part of the earth we're born on.
every moment after that is all influence from outer sources.
very little we say and do is not influenced by the world around you after your birth.

so what's to say?
what's to dictate what you do?
how you act?
what you think?
what you believe?
if you behave for your boss or not?
if you're more mature than your boss?

if you can't keep your car clean?
if your house has two couches, one television on the wall, and the floor is littered with children's toys.
if the refrigerator has food in it, or just beer.

you drink beer infront of your kids, but won't smoke weed, because the government tells you to hide that from your children.

if i let my children smoke weed at ten years old, and you feel justified condemning me with your conditioned beliefs, without having any clue of the hypocrisy shitting out of your mouth.

can you admit yet that we're all fucked without an answer?
up shit creek without a paddle?

two thousand years of religion not answering our prayers. and we can't admit it yet. how many more generations?
two hundred years of the american government lying to us, poisoning us, drugging us, destroying us...
bones, blood and tears in that machine we've built...

and then there's the national debt.

anyone wanna take a wild guess as to what i think about that?

when you have a building built, and you have no money and you're starting off with nothing...

you're going to owe some people for it, aren't you?
you're going to have to call in some favours, aren't you?

so you call up jim, bob, and dave, and they come build your house for you.
jim buys all the lumber, dave does most the hammering, and bob wipes your tears while you tell him how hard you've worked.

and the better they're dressed...

and poof, you've got yourself a building.

now, the first thing you do with that building, is kill jim, bob, and dave, and enslave their children for the next thirty years. okay, we'll overlook that. keep going, see how far you get.

two hundred years into the future. you're long dead, but your kids are reaping the benefits.

thrones of gold and velvet.
shoes that levitate off the ground.
and your hair looks fucking inhumanly perfect.

luxury.

vs

poverty.

those above...
and those below.

'the only solution i can see from my hell,
is for your expensive heaven to fall'.

plastic faces, clapping at themselves, the laughter is as fake as the price tags.
i've smelled your life.

but that national debt has crept up. billions. trillions.

i'll just go ahead and enlighten you, incase you got lost somewhere along the way.

that national debt... is the money you owe to the people who helped you get where you are today.

if it's trillions?

that's a lot of blood on your hands.

a lot of bones in your machine.

a lot of shut mouths.
tight lips.
tighter wallets.
tense trigger fingers.
that fear's gotta be stackin' up, too.

but i have my answer.

you can call it a cult...
you can call it a terrorist organization...
you can call it unpatriotic...
you can call it an anarchist attack on the sanctity of the christian family...
you can call it a senseless attack on the security of this nation...

you can call it whatever the fuck you want...

but they can't call it tyranny, until they've been defeated.

and that's a fact i'll stick up against your throat till you bleed the fuckin' truth.

you drank the fifth...
you smoked the eighth...

and you think you have freedoms.
you think it's something to fight for.
you think it's something to die for.

news flash, dipshit...

i have something to live for.

i've been selling you the answer for twenty years now.
when the fuck are you gonna be brave enough to buy it?

keep hiding under the rock that was placed over you buy your leaders in order to comfort you into complacence, incoherence, consumerism, capitalism, and a selfish, fearful life of hatred, degradation, seclusion, segregation...

keep hiding...
keep digging deeper...
keep running from the sun...
keep living in a shell of lies...
a cage of comforts and misinformation...

go ahead.

i'll be that much further ahead of you when it matters most.

if you're not brave enough to take your land back from these murdering, bloodthirsty liars...

then how many generations of your birth defect children do i have to scream through?

i am sending my voice out.
waves through the oceans of incoherent humanity...

because i am talking to each and every one of you.

ignore this as long as you can.
fear this as long as you can.

because i'd pay to stay ahead of you on this road.

they came over, slaughtered the natives, flooded this country with asians and dot indians who think they have the right to hate and harass poor white people in our own country that we were told to be proud of and work for and fight for and die for and stand behind and now we're being harassed by fuckin' ahmed the slurpie pusher.

and i don't want to be a consumer in your society in the first place.

white people, this ain't your fuckin' land either. if you want to talk about fair, you have to die first.

then you have to learn your lesson.

then you owe us an apology. sincere apology. act mature. stand up straight. pronounce correctly. inside voice.

i'm part native.

i'm actually half irish, half native, but enough of either to whoop your ass.

but my native bloods are apache, navajo, and a little cherokee.

do your research on those tribes. their history.

then do your research on crazy horse, and understand that i'm a huge fan of his.
as well as che guevara, and many others you fuckers never acknowledge.

how can you claim to know what you're talking about in this debate, if you're not educated on those topics.

my mama used to say, you cannot make an informed decision unless you are fully informed.

roger that, mama.

don't just be a mature, responsible adult...
be a human, and make your fuckin' decision.

i ain't waitin' much longer.

oh, yeah, and my tribal name i gave myself... blue feather.

sixty trillion dollars to the first person who even guesses close to how many layers of meaning are in that.

sounds simple to you, i'm sure.

that identifies me as unique, and in opposition to you all.

just like the fact that i have an evolutionary doctorate, and you'll never even know what the fuck that is.

go ahead. debate me. i can't wait to put you on fuckin' youtube.

'one who speaks the truth, can make an example out of anyone'...

if confucious didn't say that, then he fuckin' should have. maybe it was yoda, who knows.

study your history, or shut the fuck up.

hey, officer, can you get your diamond cock out of my ass yet?

saturday

okay. today, i need to use the restroom as much as possible, cause the library's closed tomorrow.

i need to call sarah black, ask her for some clothes, explain the mail/meal situation to her, zach and josh, and ask for her help with march's money.

i need to ask someone here at the library for some help budgeting my money, and sticking to it.

i need to make sure i can get my new laptop, cause this thing fucking sucks, i'm sick of it.

i need to do some looking around online and trying to make some friends who speak metal.

i'll stick to that for now, cause this pain in my stomach is getting so bad, i keep feeling like i'm passing out.

i'll leave my progress here. i'm down to four smokes, one bowl, two burgers and a bag of trail mix, and i've gone once already. i need to take two water pills, one pain pill.

i desperately need new clothes from sarah black:
long thick black classy skirt, new long black trench coat, dress shoes. possibly better sunglasses, though i did find some at least. god, this stomach pain, i've gotta get this thing out of me. this ain't right.

jon won't be online today to help me focus, so i'm on my own for thought.

i'd also like to thin out my music collection, deleting unnecessary songs. each album i only like one song, i'll consolidate those into a folder for moods.

update: made a new friend today at least, from supportgroups. not sure how long it will branch out, but we'll continue monday. i'll call sarah tomorrow about clothing. other than that, i'm fuckin' fried. that took all fuckin' day. barely finished, and now it's time to go. figures.

...
random thought just occurred to me. people always bitch and whine about how much being molested as a child really screwed them up. i've never once thought that. i wish i had been molested as a child. if i had been physically abused, i might have learned a little more about how to fight a little earlier on, even though... that knowledge isn't that useful to me. but see, any form of physical abuse, whether sexual, violent, or otherwise (what else is there in the neanderthal mind), a: i don't think i would have let it 'damage me' as much as the interruptions have, and b: you know... here's the kicker. to be abused in anyway... i would have had to have been noticed first. so you whiny weakling little pussies that bitch about 'my uncle touched me', consider yourselves lucky. at least you were part of someone else's life. at least you were noticed. so coming from someone who would give anything to be touched even in naughty ways, take it from me... imagine being hated from birth. invisible from day one. no chance of ever being accepted. no chance of ever being heard. a voice that just doesn't penetrate hearts. i can talk through walls, but i can't kill apathy. thanks, world. thanks, family. those losers who think themselves never to blame, and use that attack of 'you just like to blame the world for your problems', that's exactly what i'm doing. it's about time someone had the balls to blame you. society is fucked, i plan to prove it, and by showing you something better, show you what losers you are now. go ahead. flip to my fuckin' channel.

time to think

okay. so... when i get my birth certificate... what fucking ball of chaos is this going to imprison me in. it's gonna say joseph craig dresser on it. am i going to have to prove to them that i'm ozzy draven? change my name all over again? i'm the only one having this problem, and having to verify my identity and identify my verity and conform to their confirmations and jump through their fucking hoops of lunacy, and i'm sick of being their lab rat, poked and prodded at their whim... yeah, hello, am i the only one asking this question... why do i have to verify myself to these people who don't know me... so fucking much! why! can no one answer this question?

i've asked library after library, through seattle, portland, san francisco, and now here, i've asked many libraries, no one seems to know how the fuck to start a religion, and i'm finding that increasingly frustrating and disturbing. am i the only one who thinks that libraries should possess that knowledge? they say 'we have books on religion', but those books don't have phone numbers and addresses of where to go and what paper to fill out, and i'm not so good with reading books when my focus is fucked, which is why i'm asking for help, you work in the fuckin' library, you read it. i'm not capable of that right now. i'm sorry, i'm an evolutionist, which means black text on white paper in standard font is not very compatible with my triangular eye sight, but if there were a youtube video perhaps.

so it's occurred to me... several months ago in san francisco, actually, but it's taken some time to consider... but it's occurred to me... if this still isn't catching on yet, then just start talking about it like it's already happened. so i figured, i'll remake my voicemail message, and get it to stick this time, using the library phone to check, since i have no fuckin' friends. but i want to make it like this...

...
greetings, you've reached evolution hotline, a subsidiary of ozztek industries.

we don't yet have the technology to take your call at the moment,
so if you'd like to leave a message, you'll have to invent the technology yourself.
we could use someone with your talents at ozztek industries!
to fill out an application, please go to ozztek.blog.com.

please pay attention, as our menu options will never change or conform to your norm,
because i killed norm, he was a naughty security guard, and you can find him in the dumpster behind walmart.

if you're trying to reach bill hicks, satirist, social critic, standup comedian, please press one.
if you're trying to reach ozzy draven, founder and ceo of ozztek industries, and the church of evolution, please press two.
if you're trying to reach evolution, the multitalented band leader, photographer, and televolutionist visionaire extraordinaire, please press three.
if you know that those are three synonymous names for the same spirit, please press four.
if you're confused and don't know what to do, please press five.
if you're debating on who this guy is, and what the fuck he's talking about, please go to ozztek.blog.com for a free consultation.
if you're swimming against the current, you're not a dead fish, and you should watch jim hightower, alex jones, naked news, and keep yourself properly informed.
if you're a clone with a credit card, then you need to be converted to evolutionism immediately. please press six three times frantically, and then panic!
if you're already forming negative opinions, then you are not healthy in the head, and you should seek help! seek help! by going to ozztek.blog.com for a free consultation.
if you'd like to become an evolutionist, please press seven with your big thumb, your left wing, or your seventh eye, and you'll be routed and sprouted for immediate conversion.
if you'd like to donate to ozztek industries digitally, my paypal is animatrinity@gmail.com, and the lord thanks you, son, you're healed!
if you need to identify yourself soldier and assimilate yourself soldier and poke your authoritative finger in someone's chest to make your dick appear bigger, then you should not be calling this number, what the fuck is wrong with you! didn't your mother smack you hard enough, you scruntroach! shoot yourself please! the truth hates you!

the evolution bible is online, ready to read, and free of charge, because that's the way it should be. just google it.
remember, you cannot make an informed decision unless you are fully informed. otherwise you'll make yourself look real stupid. if you fear knowledge, it will fear you back.
my mama taught me the best lesson in life. she said son, don't just learn from your own mistakes, watch the show cops. thanks, mama.
my mama taught me that interruptions are rude. apparently she didn't teach anyone else. remember to give evolution two opposable thumbs up!
ozztek industries is not liable for your misunderstandings, please read the loser manual carefully.
this message will self destruct as soon as you hear the beep. have a wonderful...!
...

so. i shouldn't have to verify my identity to people who don't know me. if i'm the only one who thinks this, and if i have any further trouble trying to prove my identity to these idiots, then fuck it. ozzy draven is dead. they're going to have to deal with me on a whole different level. not only will i break their ultimate copyright infringement law by identifying my reincarnation to get my kids back, but they're going to have to call me evolution. they want to kill off one of my names with their legal paperwork prison horseshit, that's the way i plan to fight it, to attack it first. that's what they want to see, either someone cave in under their fascism, or rise above it with destructive power, and they want to debate that and not take me seriously until it's too late, fine. they'll learn the hard way like everyone else who has crossed me. being an evolutionist, i realize that death is no way to learn your lesson. so i'm not going to kill you. i intend to force the knowledge into your head against your will, cause the more you squirm, the dumber you look. because i want to see that look on your face, i want to collect those and put them on youtube. the moment of forced revelation. the shocking nudity of the truth. that's what i'm in this for. that's sustenance to me. fuel. that's what i call... priceless.

i figure, this, and i'll just start blogging about evolutionism as much as possible, until i start getting some emails. just pass it out like a business card, and act like it's already here. treat people as if... you know, what are you doing not paying attention? you can officially catch on now, the starting line started already. yeah, it's twenty sixteen, where have you been? yeah, evolution is here, he just got off the bus, google it now and save yourself from the lord!

with some of my disability money, i could actually get some business cards made up. but the point is, i only need certain people's attention. what are my objectives here. in los angeles, not much. i don't want to branch out much till i get out of here, and get myself a house in washington. because i truly feel that the line for the evolution community is up around the canadian border, around montana. that's where my eye has been gravitating to for some time now. ozztek industries has to be based in canada, the church of evolution will be spread out through cities.

i also want to have little purple donation boxes, with the ozztek industries logo, and a warning saying 'do not spend this on drugs, it completely goes against my religion and what i'm trying to do'.

so here's a better, more summarized definition of evolution, from an email with carol:

Evolution.

I feel like sellin' thumbs today.

Our direction: fearlessly forward.
Our political stance: anarchist.
Our God: logic.
Our initiative: ending the war on poverty now.
Our IQ standards: much higher than yours.
Our mindset: strictly psychedelic.

Your answer: to end your poverty, to become part of the nonmonetary community, you have to become an evolutionist, and convert others.

That's the product I'm selling. Plain and simple. I'm talented and educated enough to do it through any medium; comedy, music, movies, books, fashion, foods, magic, distraction, advertizing, promotion, marketing, electronics and software, portable housing, talent migration and integration, education, religious allegiance, social trends, and televolutionism.

I'm selling thumbs.

And the first requirement for an evolutionist: educate yourself. Inform yourself. Arm yourself with information, not paranoia.

Minimal mandatory educational material requirements:

Ten hours of Alex Jones on YouTube.
Ten hours of Terence McKenna on YouTube.
Ten hours of Bill Hicks.

Twenty hours of standup comedy.

The following films: in time, limitless, lucy, idiocracy, lucky number slevin, fight club, the postman, the Truman show, xmen (all), Lord of war, accepted, first twenty million, kickass (both), and savages (2012, oliver stone).

And the following documentaries: dmt: the spirit molecule, american drug war; the last white hope, what in the world are they spraying and why in the world are they spraying it, and i'll think up more later.

Oh, and do your research on me. The more informed you are about me, the less I have to say.

the great lunatic week ending

my body feels dead. my skin is crawling and cringing. i feel so sick. i smell like cancer. this stomach.

this is what rich people force to happen to poor people.

and since no one thinks that's wrong, i plan to change your mind.

only responsible adults change their minds frequently.

only immature, paranoid children have imaginary friends they call 'god'.

it's about time you wake the fuck up, grow the fuck up, and learn your fuckin' lesson.

you're children. and i can prove it on a burrito wrapper.

...
i hate people who drink alcohol. you have no taste buds or brain cells, and that creeps me out.
i hate people who drink coffee. you have no taste buds, and that creeps be out.
i hate people who drink energy drinks. you have zero taste buds, and that creeps me out.
i hate people who drink gatorade. your taste buds are dead, you're shoveling vats of toxic goatpiss poison down your gullet, and no clue that there's a reason the government's feeding you that shit with brand names and shiny labels. your taste buds have been dead for a while now, and it's a strong indicator that you're not human, you're plastic, there's no soul making unique choices in there. too bad you can't see this from my perspective. i fucking hate the word 'latté'. i hate people who use that word. how many times do i have to explain this to you fucking goatroaches. i'm sick of having to state my preferences, because i'm not like you. i see humans acting like eachother, and then i see me, and none of you are looking at me, or giving half a shit that i have different preferences. seven billion of you uncreative, unimaginative fucks all have to drink the same fucking thing, and it tastes like shit, but no one can tell you that! what the fuck is wrong with you! evolve! develop some fucking taste buds and some fucking logic!

coffee is nastier than shit, and i'm pretty sure there's a chemical in the coffee bean that makes people stupid.
my proof for that theory is on the billboard opposite the seven eleven.
beer is nastier than toxic goat puke, and smells even worse, but go ahead and keep drinking it.
all that energy drink gatorade horse shit... question what's in it before you swallow it.
i'll bet you a billion dollars that cum is actually healthier than energy drinks, and gives you more energy.
or have you all forgotten what the fuck protein is.

why can i not find a lady who prefers hot chocolate in the mornings, doesn't drink beer thinking she's a man who has to watch the game with the other guys. those types of girls, i always wish they were off in their room knitting something, rather than watching fucking football and thinking they like it. something tells me, you like it because your husband likes it. i know that's opinionated and crude, but it's the way i fuckin' think. i'm looking for the one woman on this planet who's impressed by that. and who drinks fucking hot chocolate in the mornings, and not fucking coffee, and lattés, and having to shout these retarded specified orders over a starfucks counter, 'extra tall caramel machiatto latté with caramel drizzle whip and nacho cheese for javier'. you fucking clones. fuck javier. fuck brent. and fuck greg clone number four thousand fifty two, inspected by number thirty five. i hate all of you. you make me want to kill myself to get off your fucking backslapping planet that sickens me every day of my life, i'm ashamed to be here, i'm ashamed to call myself a part of the human race, you're all plastic fucks in starbucks, and i fucking hate you. why can't i have a life here. are you all too lazy to fucking answer. do you not have the balls to theorize and hypothetically debate this with me. you're pussies. you're fearful, paranoid little fucking children. i fucking hate you. i hate your coffee, but what i hate more than coffee, is how popular it is through the last five hundred retarded fucking tasteless years. what i hate more than alcohol, is how fucking sickeningly popular it is. you disgust me. what i hate more than energy drinks is how fucking disgustingly popular they are, that's all i can find in the stores now. have you idiots not tasted this shit? it tastes like the government washed your mother through a metal tube with a broom, then threw her into a meat grinder, then repackaged her in that sausage casing stuff, turned her into a fuckin' slim jim, then torched it and cooked it into some form of crack rock, crushed it down into powder, stirred it into a bucket of cow piss, slapped a label on it, and you fucking drank it, you fucking turd goat. can you not taste that? do you need to be synaesthetic like me to see what's going on here? you're literally being fed lies, and you just buy them up, cause you're dumb enough to smile while you're doing it, and tweet about it later.

i know there's a wonderful lady out there who doesn't have to be like everyone else.
i know there's a wonderful lady out there who drinks hot chocolate in the mornings.
i know there's a wonderful lady out there who likes metal, comedy, nudity, evolution, and hot chocolate.
i know there's a very special woman out there who is just as disgusted by clones as i am.

where are you, hunny. we're about to have a good time, i'm just waiting on you.

that's always my luck. that's what i get for being an evolutionist, i have no luck.

no luck...
no ladies...
no life...

at least i have taste buds.

...
dear lord,

i know you're not there.
i hate all these people.
i cannot stand a single one of them.
i can't stand looking at them any longer.
the immature scumfucks dragging their pants on the ground still.
i'm sick of looking at your ass hanging out.
grow the fuck up and pull your fucking pants up already. it's no longer cool.
someone needs to tell you, fads don't last that long.
your mama should have smacked the shit out of you.
the fact that she never did makes me want to smack a clue out of her.

my mother taught me that interruptions are rude.
apparently she didn't teach anyone else.

lord, i hate your people. i hate your planet. i hate your products.
please keep these people away from me today.
i need to meet the open minds, and i cannot waste any more time.

i cannot stand looking at these people any longer, lord.
hot plastic women who can't afford to notice me.
every one of them chasing after the same guy.
not a one of them can break away from that herd and notice me.
that sickens me.
you sicken me.
all of you.

these plastic men, they look just like ken dolls, i can still see the plastic seal line, and the 'patents pending' etching, you all have the same tattoos, the same haircut for the same price, and you all feed into a system without even knowing... let me clarify for you.

the government gives us a menu, a list of things we can be in life.
if you order off that menu... if you buy any of their products... if you do anything they suggest...

you're a fucking clone. a mindless, choiceless, ballless, soulless clone. i don't know how better i can tell you.

the only way you would listen, is if your god told you, and admitted that he lied to you. but he'll never do that, cause he's not here, so whatever you say god says, he must be saying, without even realizing that if you can talk to him, and i can't... you don't think that's unfair in any way, you'll just tell me i'm not praying hard enough. i don't believe enough. go ahead and point out about thirty more faults of mine, how i'm just doing everything so wrong, and i have to be just like you in order to show up in god's searchlight, yeah, go ahead, cause i haven't bought that product lie yet, so keep selling it to me relentlessly, maybe one of these days i'll actually buy it.

i'll give in...
i'll give up...
i'll compromise...
and you get to remain king...
always right...
perfect and infallible...

how paranoid and stupidly human of you, to put a man in the sky, to prevent others from getting up there.

that tells me so much about you. that you'll never be willing to learn, let alone realize your mistake.

it's taken you two thousand years. i don't think you're gonna get it. i could give you every chance in the book.

pardon the pun.

but nature tells me you just need to be deleted. you should never have been here.

humanity must survive your ignorance.

'when there are no thrones, we can all live like kings'.

(i want to take that one a little further)...

when there are no gods, we can all live like gods.

the only solution i can see from my hell, is for your expensive heaven to fall.

your delusion to be revealed as the delusion it is.
your lies...
your fantasies...
your denial...

god, please, bring the day... if there's no god to tell you that you misunderstood him... that kind of seems obvious to me, but i'm obviously the only one.

let me see if i can put this a better way.

if your god is not up there in the sky to tell you how you misunderstood him...

well, fuck it, for the life of me, i cannot finish that sentence. it's already done. it is its own period.

no one will ever realize that.

but i'll keep preaching it till the day i die. you're wrong.

to carol; intolerant to fascism

i'm really sorry. i don't know who else to talk to. i don't even know what to say right now, my mind isn't working. i can't think. i woke up just before sunrise this morning, desperately needing a restroom. i'm never allowed to use a restroom. i'm too poor and stupid of a human to partake in such a fascist, selfish monetary society. i woke up, i had to drag the cart up to starbucks, cause no one else is ever there to watch it. i went into the burger king, to use their restroom. i asked the lady for a quarter for the restroom door. she says 'we don't have any'. as i tried to get more persistent, my mind got more foggy, so i can't remember most of what happened, but they stumbled over my 'intellectual supremacist' ptsd triggers like monkeys in a minefield. at one point, she just stood there staring at me with this smirk on her face. i told her i was about to have an accident on her floor. fucking selfish redheaded little bitch. she starts laughing at me.

it's too painful to remember the rest. all i know, is i want to walk in there with a shitload of homeless people, tie those cunts up to the fuckin' wall, and ask them on youtube, do you think it's funny to deprive another human of a restroom? do you think it's funny to make poor people pay you a fascist quarter to use a restroom, when you can't afford to fix your door lock, so every time i'm in there, people can just open the door, but i can never get it open? i'm sorry, was that question too long for your fucking five cent attention span? you have no idea the horrid fucking thoughts that are clustering and clogging and suffocating my mind right now. i cannot think. i cannot shit. i cannot get any part of this ball of cancer out of me before it fucking kills me. i'm never allowed to speak in this stupid fucking world. i'm never allowed to shit unless i do what your boss tells me. i'm sorry, i make a horrible slave, but damned if i have a way out!

i can't tell you how... dark... horrible... fucked up the thoughts in my head are right now. i have to wake up with this shit in my head, because i refuse to be a slave tool for a selfish system and a cloned zombie obedient society... i can't get this shit out of my fucking head! i can't make any worthwhile friends who can actually help! i cannot meet any competent people to build a way out of this! i can't meet anyone with an iq above the concrete. fuck, i can't even fucking type this morning! spent the last thirty seconds trying to delete the fucking v and replace it with a c! every fucking thing i ever try to do has to be this fucking difficult, my hands won't even behave when i need them, they won't do a fucking thing i tell them!

if my mother and i had a family crest, it would have etched on it, 'if you can't get it done right, do it your fuckin' self'.

i can't get a thought out of my head this morning because of the ptsd.
i feel so suffocated, i don't even have anything to smoke, no one to calm me down.
i've texted every fuckin' loser i know, no one will ever respond, cause i'm the only morning person on this pathetic fucking planet full of lazy hypocritical shits.
and i still haven't gotten this turd out of my fucking body.
yesterday, a bunch of dark black crap came out of me.
not just dark black. i wear black. this was galactic black.

and no one thinks there's a problem here yet.
no one thinks that just a little organization and cooperation could end this shit for good.

i want to put a knife through my throat.
i want to tear it through my wrists confidently.
i want to carve this pathetic meat sack off my soul so i can truly walk around naked.

i've never liked being this hateful.
i've never liked having so much irresponsible shit to hate.
i've never once wanted to be a part of this world.
to participate in your lunacy and excuses of childish fears.

i can't think.
i'm wanting to shove my mind into darkness.
to suffocate this delusion out of me.
to end.
to become the silence.
to think no more.

i ache for that.
i burn for that.
i live for that.

i can't get anything out of me. i'm simply not allowed.

so i'm truly asking you. i'm not being facetious, i'm not being hypothetical, i'm fucking asking.

should i just go ahead and kill myself?
is there any way out of this?
should i just slit my wrists and say goodbye?
i can't even cry anymore, it hurts too much.
i refuse to think, because every thought is wrong.
i can't resist the urge to stab people in the throat anymore.
i know i'm not healthy to be on the streets.
i don't want anyone to get hurt, but at the same time, i'd love to slaughter everyone.
i wish i could get a message out, film the destruction of fascism in burger king.
post a video to youtube telling the rich that poor people are fed up.
we're sick of this treatment that they call 'fair' when we know it's not.
we're sick of your fucking lies, your irresponsible blindness to the truth.
i see no way out of this ignorance, this suffocating irresponsibility.
should i just kill myself, and give the fuck up?
why have i put myself through this much hell, if this will never work?

i feel like such an ugly, useless piece of shit.
i once thought i had a purpose.
i once thought i had good ideas that might help people.
not even the poor people wanted to be helped.
i can't feel anything but pain.
physical, emotional, mental...
anguish, disgust, misery, agony...

i feel so sick.

this body is about to die anyway.
i couldn't find a doctor to care.
i can't get myself into the clinic.

i'm lost.
i truly don't know what to do.
my mother's dead.
the one person who would have been most proud of me.
the one person i could ask what to do.

the one person who would tell me...
'no, you shouldn't give up yet'.

fuck this.
fuck this fucking world.
i hate every fucking thing i see.
it hurts in a way i cannot explain.
even if i could, no one would care.
i refuse to be a part of an apathetic world.
i refuse to give a solution to a zombie nation.
i refuse to help these arrogant little shits.
these pukes who could never show me anything but hatred.
exclusion. degradation. humiliation.

i fucking hate too much.
it's gone beyond my limit.
now, i can't get the images of burning redhead burger king employees out of my mind.

snooty, snobby, stuffy, spoiled, selfish little cunts.

you think it's funny to deprive people of a restroom?
you think it's funny to laugh at poor people?
do you think that shit's funny?
cause if you do, you deserve to die.
that's just nature telling you you've been here too long.
you've been fucking things up and living for yourself for too long.

i cannot tell you...
i cannot put into words...
it hurts too much...
i cannot tell you how much my stomach hurts.

i would give anything...
i've already given everything...
i would still give anything...
for just one human...
to crawl out of this concrete hatred...
this festering stagnant stench of the human spirit...
this toxic, vile primordial pond of lies and delusion...
i would give anything...
for one person to drag me out of this...
this quicksand of human intellect...
compassion, sympathy, passion, acceptance, understanding...
i have nothing left...
i need a restroom.
i probly need an enema by now.
i could use a soft place to lay for a while.
i could use a hug. physical affection.
a touch reminding me i'm alive...
not as ugly as i think...

that will never happen.
so i'm asking you...
i'm asking the gods...
i'm asking a selfish, apathetic society...

should i end this fucking horrible joke?
there's no way out of this.
there's no chance at changing a fucking thing.
there's almost no reason left to improve my life.
there's surely no fucking purpose.

cops.
security guards.
harassment.
(when it should have been 'her ass meant...')...
hatred.
apathy.
television.

the super rich, every day, live in luxury, laughing at themselves with golf claps.
while poor people wake up on concrete, being harassed by cops every morning.
and no one else thinks that's about as sick and wrong as you can get on this planet.

so i either want help changing this shit...
or i want to die.

i'm so far beyond fed up with this shit...
i'm thirty years beyond fed up with this shit...
i'm so sick of concrete and credit cards...
i'm thirty miles past suicidal...
my heart has no poetry left...
no one will ever appreciate my words anyway...
i'm never allowed to be heard...

people don't have to listen because their god gave them free will...
you could use it to free willy at this point...
what do you call a guy with no arms and no legs on your lawyer's desk? will.
my mother never needed a will... she had nothing to leave behind but pain.
she was shown a fair time on this planet, wasn't she?
who here would like to justify that my mother's life was fair?
who here would like me to slit their fucking throat this morning?
who here can i make an example out of?

since i can't burn down burger king...
and i can't get this clusterfuck of cancerous death out of my head, heart, or stomach...
since there's no monetary way out of this with friends...
since no one would walk the pathway out of this that i create...

should i just kill myself?
should i just end it?
is there any point to even asking anyone?
should i buy an uzi and take out a few hundred rich people first?
my hope is gone.
it's turned into a festering ball of turd. not metaphorically, literally.
my heart's fucking dead.
the coldest, ugliest, most invisible heart on this planet.

all i ever fucking wanted was a hand on my fucking flesh.
that was too much to ask of this wonderful society of yours.

dear lord, please, get this hatred out of me.
i cannot breathe. i cannot think. i can't see through the tears. even if their metaphorical, too.

i can't breathe. i can't see my way out of this delusion. this lie.

this sad, pathetic fucking life.

complacence. incoherency. submissive, docile, apathetic masses. credit cards.
flesh replaced with plastic.
warmth replaced with price tags.
love replaced with excuses.

i can't tell you the things i want to do to that evil redhead cunt in burger king this morning.
i shouldn't even tell you that much, but i need some way to get it out of this prison head before it happens.

i truly believe that no one really understands me, or what i'm going through.
who i am as a person, who i am as an alien outside of your usual perspective.
how i'm able to be me while you're telling me persistently how to be you.

i have seven billion hateful delusions on this planet
lost in a haze of confusion and a blur of shiny products
bad drugs, horrible beliefs, ridiculous laws, irresponsibility
fascist finger pointing and chasing of meaningless shit
and i cannot get this prison out of my head...
nor can i get my head out of this prison...

there's no way.

too many porches and limousines in this town...
i can smell the plastic...

why i ever came here...
to start a metal band?...
i had a nice spot in seattle picked out where i could be left alone long enough to die.
to exit your lunacy without being held back.
to freely and fearlessly enter darkness.

like that time i walked into the ocean naked.

i felt that end calling, reaching out to me, with actual love and acceptance.

the last time i even thought of the word 'beckoning'.

the last time i felt wanted by a part of this earth.

the last time i could translate that to another set of human ears.

love.
acceptance.

these things do not exist anymore.
if they did, i would have found them by now.
i'm thirty seven years old.
there's no excuse for this.
and there's no reason to continue this lie.
trying to break free from a delusion in your own head.

there isn't a psychologist i could ask who's explored that theory yet.
freud and jung had to be the first because no one did it before them.
and no one's done it again since. and i'm ashamed of that.

i'm no piece of this world. i oppose it.

if i were a puzzle piece, i would have a billion different rainbow coloured sides, ten dimensional lines with a portal shift just to see it. and you're expecting me to fit my wonderful, beautiful alien sides into your stupid little plastic fuckin' puzzle of lunacy, and cancerous hatred...

inspire me.
motivate me.

beg me.

sell me.

sign me.

i still cannot get those images out of my mind.
knives through throats.
heads on counters.
flames.

and a youtube video.
remnants of sanity.

a message from poor people to the rich.
you keep harassing us and depriving us of restrooms...
just because we refuse to participate in your selfish, fascist society...

please... don't let me finish that sentence.
don't make me say what i never wanted to say.
i was betting on the more peaceful outcome this whole time.
you raped that away from me, and blamed me.

i honestly feel like this turd is going to kill this body soon.
how humiliating.

i can't open my eyes anymore.
all i see is pain.

'all i see is...
all i see is...
two white horses in a line...
two white horses in a line...
carry me to my burial ground...

some may say, this might be your last farewell ride'...

it literally feels like my heart won't let me inhale oxygen into my lungs anymore.
my heart itself, is too flooded with tears and pain, anger, hatred...
it's lost the will to let me breathe anymore.
it's time to shut this machine down. in one way or another.

there's no getting out of this.
there's no getting burger king to apologize for...

for what?

would they even know?
would they ever care.

a youtube video wouldn't make a big enough dent.
if i did it, they'd just demonize me and blame me.
i'd just be the next scapegoat on the assembly line.

one more terrorist to fuel their fascism.

there's no shoving an answer through the cnn toob.
there's no injecting a message into the mainstream ice cream american dream media vein.
there's no sticking a syringe into the television power cable.

'tv, what do i need?
tell me, who to believe?
what's the use of autonomy when a button does it all?
tv, what should i see?
tell me, who should i be?
let's do our mom a favour and drop a new god off a wall'

i feel so sick.
i can't tell you the ways i feel sick.
i don't think i could even start at the top and work my way down.
there's too much in my head, my neck will not pop, it's just constantly stiff.
i was this close to getting my van.
we got the letter mailed off for the birth certificate.
it sickens me to have to prove my identity to these fucks.
to verify who i am to people who do not care.
to etch my place in a world i fucking hate.
i cannot take this shit anymore.
my mind is falling apart.

i used to have intellect.
i used to have ideas.
i used to...

i used to be a lot of things.
not a one of them ever would have fit in this fucked puzzle.

i can't fucking think.
i can't even think of how to finish this properly, let alone apologize for it.
i fucking hate myself.

people kept telling me 'it's because you're unhappy with yourself'.

i tried to tell them a billion fucking times.

i love myself. it's you i hate. i have no problem with myself. i'm very happy with myself. but you have to constantly tell me how to dress, which job to get, and which television shows to watch so i can be just like you, when you're incapable of understanding that i refuse to be a clone, that's one of the reasons i've gotten so hateful, but damned if i could tell you that, but no, i'm very happy with myself, i love myself, simply because i'm not a clone of you, so please stop telling me it's because i hate myself, i do not buy into all that superstitious horse shit, i don't believe a fucking thing you tell me, nor will i ever, because i have no reason to, but go ahead and keep telling me how to dress and what job to get, because that's really going to make me happy, and going to make me love myself more. no, i'm asking to be loved by someone other than me, and i'm coming to find out that that's too much to ask of my fellow selfish humans on this planet, because all seven billion of you would rather chase after perfection, instead of just one of you breaking off from the herd to help this wounded calf get back to mommy, but go ahead and keep thinking you're right and i'm wrong, i don't have a clue what i'm talking about, because your words have been shoved down my throat for so many years, i couldn't possibly have formed my own fucking opinion, but no, i'm here to tell you, you're wrong, i love myself, it's you i hate because you can't afford to love me, you can't afford to take a brave stance on this selfish topic, and help one homeless person off the streets as a social experiment to see if it's worth doing, or to learn the purpose behind it, fuck no.

so i'll say it one more fucking time to people who can't afford to listen...

it's myself who i'm happy with.
it's myself who i love.
i'm very happy with myself.

at least i was when you were out of my life.

you are the people i hate.
you are the reason i hate.
your failure to understand this escalates the fact.
it is you i hate. because you show nothing but hate.
you ignore me walking down the street.
your eyes stay locked straight ahead.
your neck is well trained to be stiff.
the shinier the shoes, the stiffer the neck.

and you don't think there's anything wrong with that.
which makes me hate you more.
i could try to explain it to you till i'm black in the heart.

there's no point in making the point to you.
you refuse to eradicate yourselves off this planet.
you refuse to admit you're wrong and stumble into a volcano.

my eyes do nothing but shut these days.
my eyelids have never felt so heavy and hopeless.
i picture that scene from tom and jerry, where tom is trying to prop his eyes open with toothpicks to watch for the stupid mouse.

it would be too offensive to me to use that same metaphor for my heart.

i've locked up too much pain and hatred in my arsenal to use against you.

i don't know what to do with all this negativity you've given me.

you've shoved your hatred into my heart, and then you just blame me for it.
just like my grandmother. perfect little christian she was.

i'm starving.
i honestly... the only thing i can think of...
the only thing still in this mind right now...
i just want to walk out of this starbucks...
push my neck up against the wall by seven eleven...

and push on it so hard that it actually snaps.

to let these heavy eyes finally shut bravely.

that's what i think of your world.
but you'll never know that.
you'll never care.

just another fly turd on the newspaper, lost in the dust of history and hatred.

two hundred years from now, no one's ever going to say...
'gee, i wish that ozzy dude was still around, life would be a little better right now'...

no one will ever say...
'that weird trench coat guy had a good idea... too bad we never listened'...

this world will spiral into idiocracy, because i'm the only one trying to pull it out, to stop that from happening.

the rest of you purchase apathy with plastic credit card hearts of hatred like it's keeping you alive.

meanwhile, i can't shit.
i can't cry.
i can't smoke.
i can't sleep.
i can't think.
i can't pop my neck.
i can't be loved.
i can't be naked.
i can't stop using the word can't.

the more i try to stand, the more you kick me down...

just to get my id, first it was a birth certificate, then it was a name change document, then it was getting a notary to sign it, now it's waiting three weeks for you to get off your ass... obstacle after fucking obstacle, and that's your solution for this world!

if only i could show you how stupid you are.

it's worked so great for the last two hundred years, you must be so proud.

while you stand above the earth...

'the only solution i can see from my hell
is for your expensive heaven to fall'... (a poem i lost, called 'god's gravity').

someone get this shit out of my heart, head, and stomach, before it kills me.

please. i'll fucking pay you every dime i have, i'll give you my two fucking kids and all my writings, please, someone just get this cancer out of me! i can't stop screaming at people in the streets. do you think i ever wanted to look like that? do you think i ever wanted to hit backspace five hundred fucking times just to type the word 'think' properly!!!

i'm just waiting to design some better electronics, make some better music, and get a few better ideas out there for how society could get along and love eachother and unite as one collective under one decision...

that's never going to happen. the hypocrisy of it is precisely this...
how do i get your attention, in order to get your attention...

that's how you've set this world up, and you see nothing wrong with that.

the delusion of it, is this...

to get into that golden door... i need to already be you.

is that why the only thing you can say is 'you gotta dress better, you gotta clean this up'.

if one more person waves their finger at me in a circular motion, telling me 'you gotta clean this up'... they're going to die. and i'm not even apologizing. they're going to fucking die.

i've got a pen in my pocket because i'm a writer.
the pen has always been mightier than the sword, and i'd love to prove it with a historic reminder.
and i know just where your jugular is.

you educated the wrong fucking person.

yes, tell me one more time how i have to be just like you, cause i haven't heard it before.

they'll never understand...
i'm not looking to 'fit in' to their world...
i'm here to destroy the delusion suffocating true life from existing in harmony.

should i repeat that? maybe filter it through google translate?
hold your left eye and tell me if you see hieroglyphs.
your iq has to be this high to ride this ride.

sorry, you can't use my restroom.
i don't care that you're about to have an accident.
i don't care that you're too poor to work here.
i don't care that you're not worth my sympathy.
i don't get paid to care, so i don't have to care.
my boss doesn't tell me to care, so i don't have to care.

take your grande latte caramel macchiato and shove it securely up your selfish fucking ass.

...
well i woke up this mornin' on the wrong side of the concrete
and how i got to thinkin' about all those things you said
about all them hairy people, and how they make you sick
well if calling names kicks back you, then i hope this does the trick

cause i'm sick of your complaining about how many bills
and i'm sick of all your bitchin' 'bout your poodles and your pills
and i just can't see no humour about your way of life
and i think i can do more for you with this here fork and knife

so i called up my head shrinker, and i told him what i'd done
he said you best go on a diet, yeah, i hope you have some fun
and don't go burst a bubble on the rich folks who get rude
cause you won't get in no trouble when you eats that kinda food

now they're smokin' up their junk bonds, and then they go get stiff
and they're dancin' in their yacht club with muff and uncle biff
but there's one good thing that happens when you toss your pearls to swine
their attitudes may taste like shit, but they go real good with wine

believe in all the good things that money just can't buy
and you won't get no bellyache from eatin' humble pie
i believe in rags to riches, your inheritance won't last
so take your grey poupon my friend, and shove it up your ass!

...
there are a few songs i would like to cover, that i think need to be covered these days.

eat the rich, by aerosmith.
hey stoopid, by alice cooper.
simply irresistible, by robert palmer (for my wife).
i've always wanted to do a mystical version of 'ghost song' by the doors.

i hate my fucking life.

no, i should say that to where you can't misunderstand it.

i was okay with my life.
i hated your fucking world.

it says on my twitter...
when i'm stoned, i like my life.
when i'm sober, i hate your world.
is that clear enough yet?
can we end the debate and go home now?

please, help me. i hate prayer, there's nothing to pray to, but if you could send some actual telepathic positive energy my way, how many fucking attempts does it take to type the word positive correctly!!! get these fucking fingers to do one fucking thing i tell them, lord! i'm this close to slitting my own fucking throat! i would much rather at least make a point to burger king fascists first before i scratch 'suicide' off my bucket list and burn the rest of the bucket list, but i just will never have anything the way i want it, will i? it's too much to ask, and if i say i would like one thing to go my way, i sound just as childish and bitchy, and just as brutally to blame for this playpen mess as the rest of you fucks.

that's incentive.
i cringe with hatred.
someone's going to die today.
hopefully, it's just me.

disgust.
repulsive disgust.

god, blind these eyes.
seal off this heart.
rob me of my throat.
take the love i have.
bury it in silence.
blacken everything.
i was never here.

...
they don't understand that...
if they're telling me to be like them...
that means they're unhappy with themselves...
and more than likely, they're just my delusions anyway...
defective mirrors in a haunted house of hateful reflections...
tears are magnified...
fears are justified...

and there's no convincing the mirror that you're genuine.

fuck freud.