Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Every time I talk about politics I develop tourettes.

Everybody is politically correct, money grubbing whores these days and I find myself weary of it. Everyone in charge are just going through the motions and we all know it. As for us stuck on the bottom, we enjoy our time off as much as we can with a little weed and booze to distract ourselves from the bullshit that is quickly rising to our necks. Some take it a bit too far and acquire habits such as heroin and meth. (Which are running rampant even in the small town I grew up in)

Why do all of these drones in our government and upper class wonder why we are all so fucked up all the time? It's because we can't stand the shit they make us wade through. Unbeknownst to them, their shit really does stink. I tried to write a senator recently about the budget. It was a long and eloquently worded letter, without any cuss words. (even though I wanted to use a few) Also polite and respectful. But what did I get?

Guess what I got...

A reply back! From a fucking desk jockey! It was filled with polite politically correct jargon but this about sums it up:

"Dear Fuckhead,

I didn't even read your letter because you're a fuckhead. I don't care about what anyone in my state says because I'm busy sucking off big business. Have a nice day.

P.S. Go fuck yourself."

Today's world is great isn't it? Everybody knows that they can't make any difference so we just all stare and wave at them with glazed eyes as they keep shitting on us. Waiting to drown.

Oh wait, that's not great. It's fucking terrible.

We're slaves with blue collars and bottles of meds. (for those who can afford them)

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Step right up!

Although the world is a disgusting, terrible place, you have to try to find the little bits of good in everybody. If you consider the thousands of random events that led to them being what they are, you cannot judge them for their trespasses. Some are deviant and beyond hope, such as violent killers and rapists, but not all. The crack head you ignored on the subway could have been you if you had lived their life. There is no way of knowing if you could have taken the same hardships any better. So why treat yourself as some superior being? You do not have to feel sorry for them, but to forget that they were born as an ordinary person is denying their humanity and treating them as a different species all together. Beneath the crack pipe and 7 layers of stolen clothing is a person, believe it or not. Had they been in your shoes, maybe they wouldn’t have ended up this way. But alas, the only way they have ever managed to walk in your shoes is by stealing them.

There’s a strange sadness around the streets. The hobo sleeping in his own whiskey vomit, the prostitute covered in bruises, the crack head stealing a radio, you have to wonder; is this what the future is really like? What has the world done to these people? No hope, given up on pride a long time ago. They don’t flinch as others treat them like animals, because they’ve grown accustomed. Nothing but apes begging for bananas from their cages, taught to perform for their rewards. Even if a call-girl has a black eye she’ll smile for a customer. No matter how much she wants to cry. That’s dedication.

So next time you look at one of these people, don’t think of them as a pest, but a talented performer. They were born and raised to live the low life, getting dragged through by the dick. Every bum you don’t make eye contact with, every poor girl you pick up for a wild night, these moments pass us by. But after we leave they keep on living, desperate and alone, as the rest of humanity’s personal freak show.