supposed to think of shit. i forget what already. just talked to ben. i'm not worth his time.
i feel like i'll never be worthy of anyone's time. i feel like the trauma in my mind is keeping me from being me. and no one even understands it. i feel so dirty. so ugly.
the facts stand.
you ladies never approached me.
you ladies never said yes to me.
you ladies never initiated a conversation with me.
you ladies never took it any further.
you ladies never started anything.
for three years.
you were too scared to walk up to me.
you were too scared to talk to me.
you were too scared to touch me.
for three years.
there is no undoing that.
there is no healing that.
there is no excusing that.
there is no repairing that.
there is no disproving that.
it just is what it is. and it will never change.
this is what i deserved, apparently, from you ladies, who 'claim' to not be after just money, but to look for something else, but no, i'm officially calling bullshit.
you couldn't prove it to me, so your loss.
the facts speak for themselves. all you women want is money.
you should be ashamed of yourselves, but instead you walk around wearing shirts that say 'wild feminist', with your ass hanging out of trendy skintight pants, thinking you're special, thinking you're better than me, and having every excuse in the book...
once in a while, we get one of those people, who speak the truth so loudly, so bluntly, that society comments on it, by saying things like 'he tells it like it is', and 'he holds nothing back', and 'he hits you with the truth you're not willing to admit, and no one else is brave enough to say'. shit like that. well, benjamin franklin also said, 'god forbid this country go twenty years without a revolution.
seems to me like we need more than one revolution.
we need multiple simultaneous revolutions, so that even if one fails, the others succeed at taking up the airwaves too much for anyone to know that one failed, so it can still succeed... get it?
we need a revolution against millennials. fuck you, and fuck your term. you don't even deserve your own generation yet, you're too fuckin' lazy and spoiled by rich parents, how the fuck do you get your own generation name before 'nu-metal' even gets labeled properly? how the fuck is that right?
yeah, no, you've gotten to whine and have it your way too fuckin' long now.
start a revolution against millennials. start a revolution against feminists. start a revolution against all women. start a revolution against those douchebag guys that wear flipflops and shorts. start a revolution against those douchebags who spend more than a hundred bucks on a haircut when their hair is shorter than mine. start a revolution against every male wearing pants. every dominant alphamale monkey mutherfucker with a badge. every bald white asshole. and everyone who's into 'popular' music. fuck you all. grow some balls. pussies.
i'm a mutherfuckin' metalhead. and you think you're better than me because you're too weak to even listen to it! fucking celebrate yourselves! let's get the fucking party started!
start a revolution against the masses. and start a war against the rich.
interview everyone, ask them two questions:
a: what do you know about homelessness?
b: why do you think we should start a war against the rich?
bonus question: do you think you're in denial?
song just came on... machine head, kick you when you're down.
kick you when you're down.
and you women.
you women who won't even look at me.
you cowards who won't stop and say hello.
i am better than you.
it is not you who are out of my league, but i who am out of your league.
i'm literally too intelligent to legally date you.
i'm too brave and you're too much of a coward.
i'm too much of a metalhead, and you can't even handle... fuckin' hanson is too heavy for you!
mmmbop my cock, sweetheart, let's see how brave you are right now.
i didn't want excuses, i wanted a fucking blowjob!
you act like they're still taboo.
no, hunny, you're taboo.
and your fears are just humiliating.
this human virus on the surface of this neuron.
like a delusion on the surface of your eye.
you want to keep bitching about how men demean you...
then i ask, does rap music demean you?
and do you demean yourselves with fears, excuses, and inhibitions more than rap music does?
oh, sorry, sweetie, the correct answer was yes. and yes.
see, you're perpetuating 'no' and 'fuck no', but i'm fighting back with positivity.
hence the yes...
and my lack of fear to say it.
which proves i'm better than you.
i'm out of your league.
you selfish spoiled selfjustifying cuntcracks.
anything to justify yourself.
anything to deny me.
anything to stay in your comfortable world.
'this guy wants to end the way we live, oh my lord!'.
you think god would be that fond of that little statement of yours?
you think people who hate you and don't agree that you should have all this luxury to yourselves, do you think they might hate the weakness in that statement of yours?
you think they might detest you?
might they have a reason to?
you think they might be disturbed by you?
see, that's the thing about you. that's exactly the thing about you.
the reason you don't belong here.
and it's as simple as this. so pay attention.
if someone has every reason to hate you...
and they tell you those reasons...
and you remain in denial...
thinking you're perfect...
don't you think those reasons to hate you would get heavier?
don't you think those reasons to hate you would be more justified?
no.
see, you can't afford to think that way, which is why your society should be destroyed.
that's exactly why you should be destroyed.
because you think you belong here more than us.
while you've walked on us for so long...
we've lined your streets with our golden bones for too long...
we've pampered you, babied you, changed your diapers...
fed you, clothed you, housed you, driven you...
sacrificed ourselves for you...
fought your wars...
won your land...
traded our blood for your dollars...
bathed in your lies...
soaked in our tears...
slept in our dreams...
and still you stand.
but so do the facts.
like the fact that you went three years without noticing me.
while i tapped and danced on street corners for your attention.
you ignored me, rejected me, alienated me...
and you think that's okay.
you can't even contemplate the consequences.
and you're secure that you have enough money to buy your way out of it.
you disgust me.
i never want to be you.
i just want to see the end of you.
a day without you.
a party without your excuses.
a gathering without your fears.
a celebration without your alcohol.
an orgy without your clothing.
a forest without your concrete.
an existence without your credit card.
right now, there are these two girls sitting infront of me, talking about girl shit, in starfucks, with their drinks, and trying eachother's drinks, and giggling about shit.
'you expect us to just look at you without you even making an attempt to get our attention?'
gee, what would life be like if you expected the same thing, cause i actually did it.
what would life be like without any double standards?
what would life be like if females didn't have mouths?
what would life be like, if all a woman could do to express any interest in you, is fucking look at you, without a storefront of excuses between their eyes and yours.
what would life be like, if clothing didn't exist?
what chemical mixture is necessary in this human consciousness to get females to approach males?
what change is necessary for women to take the lead toward spreading love?
what would we have to change for females to be more brave than males?
what would have to be changed, for ninety percent of humans to mature, to grow the fuck up, to stop insisting that they're grown enough, and more mature than me, but to just admit it, accept it, and grow the fuck up, without any whining and complaints and bitching and crying.
ladies, what price could we pay you...
what could we build for you that we haven't already...
what would we have to do for you...
to inspire you to just pick up your fucking balls, grow the fuck up, and stop bitching!
what would we have to do, to make you the more mature sex?
what the fuck would we have to do to put the word sex back into your vocabulary?
you say you like sex...
but then i hear the way you describe men...
and the men you're describing...
and i wonder if you can see the oxymoron between the two.
you'd pick mister wallet before you'd pick me.
you'd pick mister shorts and flipflops before you'd pick me.
and you fucking know it.
so... what makes you better than me?
what was it again, that made you better than me?
can you intelligebize an answer?
or just cough up and regurgitate more excuses?
fuck feminists.
like you need any more excuses to keep whining about shit...
like you need anything more to whine about.
you could have changed something. but all you do is bitch about an equality you know nothing of.
you want equality with a creature that rapes, kills, eats, and shits.
what does that say about you.
you should be bravely being the exact opposite, and instead of bitching about 'he raped me', stab the fucker yourself, so you can't use that excuse on the next guy.
you want to keep bitching about all the damage we've done to you...
well...
what about all the damage you ladies have done to us men?
hmm?
come on ladies, don't go silent on me now, i know there's no cock in your mouth.
be brave. speak. and say something before all the men jump in.
cause i know, i see the heartbroken men on the sidelines, waiting to throw the biggest balls.
this is a cute little game of dodgeball we're playing here, you get the sparkly shoes.
but you better start spitting out some answers before those dudes toss some balls at you.
what, you don't see the pool of tears they're standing in?
you can't see the blood dripping from their hearts?
oh, i've got a personal damage list all my own.
see, three years of rejection, and if you look back just a bit, you can see, mother of my children sold my kids to cps like a back alley drug deal... see all that?
it's time the feminist terrorist organization... and peta... take responsibility for their terrorist attacks.
don't you, guys?
oh, i forgot, those guys don't have the balls to agree with me, cause you ladies had spaghetti the other night, oops.
oh, and that's another thing, ladies. i'm fuckin' sick of spaghetti.
oh, and i just remembered one other thing.
no one's ever going to fucking read this!
no one's ever going to fucking give a shit!
you're all too good for this!
i hope you get shaved off the earth like a handlebar mustache in a schick razor commercial.
hey man, i'm gonna fuck this shit up
no fear, no compromise, i want it all
i will never be afraid, i'll die for what i believe
all of you assholes can stay rotting here
i do not care, i will not be there
i have got to save myself, don't tell me there's no one else
and all you are is all you are
i'm so sorry for you, so sorry
so all hail the new flesh
because it suits me fine.
...
and that's a bonus little factoid about me for people who ever want to know the real me...
if you don't know what the fuel is, to get me, your friend, turned on and into action mode...
if you need to know what my fuel is, so you can get the party started...
if you've got a spotlight on me, but you're hearing crickets, and you can't shout 'action'...
if you don't yet know what my fuel is, and you need to figure it out quick...
if you have the time to read my blog, and make the effort to be my friend...
if you can find this particular post, and scroll all the way down to the bottom...
then you'll see, that the only fuel you'll ever need to spark me up, turn me on, tune me in...
it's going to astonish you how simple this is, and that you couldn't think of it.
but here it is... ready? you ready to know what my fuel is?
are you? are you seriously?
cause i know i'm just talking to a one way blog...
do you really want to know what my fuel is?
okay, drumroll...
strapping young lad. city. nineteen ninety seven.
that's all you need to know.
i'll say that one more time, incase you missed it...
if the show's about to start, but you can't find the star...
as soon as i hear that alarm clock...
you dig?
now, once you've grown the balls required to stick that in your own ear...
then we can have an actual party.
till then, put out or get out.
yes, i'm this much of an asshole.
the feminists need something to balance the equation.
and the women who will never look at me...
'zero fucks given'... otep.
the more you justify yourselves, the more i say 'fuck you'.
the more you justify yourselves, the bigger an asshole i become.
you're the one who said 'gross' when we showed you our cocks, sweetheart.
we called your bodies art.
you called our bodies crime.
that's why i'm starting 'citizens offering crucial knowledge'.
you'll get it. eventually.
though i have no faith.
this goody twoshoes prissy little fuckin' twat just walked past me.
you're my biggest enemy. i hope you all die, i seriously do. i hate you more than rap.
you're so perfect.
you're so beautiful.
the perfect clothes.
the perfect hair.
the perfect skin.
and never looking in my hideous direction.
you deserve to die. that's all you deserve.
i hope you die before all the cops do.
i hope there's a list, and you all go in the order you hurt us.
like animals getting on an ark.
acts of random kindness.
get all the cancers and viruses into that volcano, and don't forget to flush.
oh, i keep forgetting, you can't understand what a nihilist thinks. ha! well shit.
i have to remind myself, you love this world so much, you couldn't possibly see why it should be swallowed by a black hole. you think the black hole is just as sentimental as you?
yeah, thanks ladies, for such a wonderful night!
i hope you're worth every dime.
those fuckin' females...
the pampered kind...
the perfect kind...
how the fuck do you exist?
i hope homeless men puke on you frequently. i truly do.
eat another heart, you demon cunt.
oh, yeah, that was the thing i thought of after jail.
a band name.
demonicunt trolls.
haha. that's a fuckin' good metal band name if i ever heard one.
on my list of favourites, it's right up there next to strapping young lad and meshuggah.
oh, i have to keep reminding myself... NO ONE FUCKING KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!! HAHAHAHA!!! HOW COULD I FORGET THAT!!! THEY CALL ME LAZY, BUT THEY WON'T MAKE THE EFFORT TO GET TO KNOW ME, EVEN IF IT MEANS READING MY FUCKING BLOG, NO, THEY'D RATHER HAVE ME REPEAT MYSELF DAILY, AND THEN TELL ME I'M NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! GOD'S WORST JOKE!!!
so, yeah, you know... irony has a bank account.
fuck yourselves.
the prettier you are, the weaker you are, and the sooner you die.
fuckin' females.
cowards.
pussies.
you know the vagina is intended for reproduction, right?
not as a reward for wearing the right suit...
not as a bank plecostomus...
a virus that thinks itself more than a virus... hmm...
if anyone has delusions of grandeur, it's you.
i'm the grandeur, you're the delusion.
go figure.
...
well, it's five forty. i was done writing, about to shut down, but looked outside, it's still raining like the future of grass depends on it.
i fucking hate this planet.
i fucking hate this life.
so, how can i fill up another hour when there's absolutely nothing i want to do.
i've got a knife, and no kevlar over my heart.
i've got shit to smoke, but can't smoke in the rain.
i've got an umbrella, but it won't behave like an umbrella should.
i've got fingers, but that's about as useless as having a stump dick on a string pulling minions out of a claw machine...
i want to die.
i just want to fucking die.
i do not want to live this life anymore.
i'm more done with it than it is with me.
i give up every night.
i lose all hope.
i can't even cry anymore.
my heart just caves in.
dives into the concrete.
plummets like it's escaping to japan.
no time for you.
time alone.
this time i think i've found it.
goodbye, my love.
it came for me.
i'm going back to japan.
take your worthless, loveless, coward vaginas the fuck away from me.
you cover them with fears, and stuff them full of inhibitions like turkeys on thanksgiving.
but there's no thanks to be given.
you gave no fuck...
we gives no thanks.
fuck you, ladies.
what my cock is worth, your pussy owes, thus you're the debt, and i'm the surplus.
get it?
boy, nothin' i say is making sex more of a possibility in your mind, is it?
that's what we call a stalemate.
all puns intended. all double meanings, all double entendres, all double sided dildos, all double standards, all double negatives, and every other aspect of satire.
your mold is stale.
ever hear of a douche?
and hey, it's summer! it's effectively mating season! haha!
eat yourselves, you cunts!
it's almost six pm. still raining. i might as well just go out and smoke and get soaked. at this point, it would be better than sitting in starfucks past my cooking alarm.
film trendy millennial people walking into starfucks, and have soggy noodles walk out.
don't forget the straws in their mouths.
and cut.
this goody twoshoes prissy little fuckin' twat just walked past me.
you're my biggest enemy. i hope you all die, i seriously do. i hate you more than rap.
you're so perfect.
you're so beautiful.
the perfect clothes.
the perfect hair.
the perfect skin.
and never looking in my hideous direction.
you deserve to die. that's all you deserve.
i hope you die before all the cops do.
i hope there's a list, and you all go in the order you hurt us.
like animals getting on an ark.
acts of random kindness.
get all the cancers and viruses into that volcano, and don't forget to flush.
oh, i keep forgetting, you can't understand what a nihilist thinks. ha! well shit.
i have to remind myself, you love this world so much, you couldn't possibly see why it should be swallowed by a black hole. you think the black hole is just as sentimental as you?
yeah, thanks ladies, for such a wonderful night!
i hope you're worth every dime.
those fuckin' females...
the pampered kind...
the perfect kind...
how the fuck do you exist?
i hope homeless men puke on you frequently. i truly do.
eat another heart, you demon cunt.
oh, yeah, that was the thing i thought of after jail.
a band name.
demonicunt trolls.
haha. that's a fuckin' good metal band name if i ever heard one.
on my list of favourites, it's right up there next to strapping young lad and meshuggah.
oh, i have to keep reminding myself... NO ONE FUCKING KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!! HAHAHAHA!!! HOW COULD I FORGET THAT!!! THEY CALL ME LAZY, BUT THEY WON'T MAKE THE EFFORT TO GET TO KNOW ME, EVEN IF IT MEANS READING MY FUCKING BLOG, NO, THEY'D RATHER HAVE ME REPEAT MYSELF DAILY, AND THEN TELL ME I'M NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! GOD'S WORST JOKE!!!
so, yeah, you know... irony has a bank account.
fuck yourselves.
the prettier you are, the weaker you are, and the sooner you die.
fuckin' females.
cowards.
pussies.
you know the vagina is intended for reproduction, right?
not as a reward for wearing the right suit...
not as a bank plecostomus...
a virus that thinks itself more than a virus... hmm...
if anyone has delusions of grandeur, it's you.
i'm the grandeur, you're the delusion.
go figure.
...
well, it's five forty. i was done writing, about to shut down, but looked outside, it's still raining like the future of grass depends on it.
i fucking hate this planet.
i fucking hate this life.
so, how can i fill up another hour when there's absolutely nothing i want to do.
i've got a knife, and no kevlar over my heart.
i've got shit to smoke, but can't smoke in the rain.
i've got an umbrella, but it won't behave like an umbrella should.
i've got fingers, but that's about as useless as having a stump dick on a string pulling minions out of a claw machine...
i want to die.
i just want to fucking die.
i do not want to live this life anymore.
i'm more done with it than it is with me.
i give up every night.
i lose all hope.
i can't even cry anymore.
my heart just caves in.
dives into the concrete.
plummets like it's escaping to japan.
no time for you.
time alone.
this time i think i've found it.
goodbye, my love.
it came for me.
i'm going back to japan.
take your worthless, loveless, coward vaginas the fuck away from me.
you cover them with fears, and stuff them full of inhibitions like turkeys on thanksgiving.
but there's no thanks to be given.
you gave no fuck...
we gives no thanks.
fuck you, ladies.
what my cock is worth, your pussy owes, thus you're the debt, and i'm the surplus.
get it?
boy, nothin' i say is making sex more of a possibility in your mind, is it?
that's what we call a stalemate.
all puns intended. all double meanings, all double entendres, all double sided dildos, all double standards, all double negatives, and every other aspect of satire.
your mold is stale.
ever hear of a douche?
and hey, it's summer! it's effectively mating season! haha!
eat yourselves, you cunts!
it's almost six pm. still raining. i might as well just go out and smoke and get soaked. at this point, it would be better than sitting in starfucks past my cooking alarm.
film trendy millennial people walking into starfucks, and have soggy noodles walk out.
don't forget the straws in their mouths.
and cut.
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