lunedì 30 maggio 2011
sabato 28 maggio 2011
venerdì 27 maggio 2011
giovedì 26 maggio 2011
mercoledì 25 maggio 2011
martedì 24 maggio 2011
lunedì 23 maggio 2011
A bunch of bloos related individual are put into an experimental cage and given the possibility to communicate through some device, like two yoghurt cups and a wire. The perfect results in this experiment are obtained when utilizing members of a nuclear family that are currently estranged. Ideal compition is: Father (possibly old, cantankerous and mean), Mother (frustrated, sarcastic and a bit shifty), Son/Daughter (aged, weathered by life and basically well intentioned). Add brother/sister for extra side effects.
The subjects must not be able to actually communicate directly or in real time. Facial expression have to be hinted, and all dialogue must happen through said device or, even better, through virtual and disembodying instruments.
The experiment can reach a surreal, almost medieval quality if in-laws and spouses are added to the mix.
Possible Development Of The Experiment
Subject Son/Daughter communicates a factoid to Father during a bond forming at conversation.
Subject Father, after adding that subject son is a pussy, a homsoexual and a disgrace (with no real reason), informs son that he actually cares a lot about said factoid. He inform the son that he will probably die in a month, after some illness, recently diagnosed. He wants to make things better and will use said factoid as a personal confidence between father and son.
Subject Son, even if the "i am about to die" sentence has occurred many times in the last lapse of time, without any death ever happening, fells moved and guilty for the ast skirmishes between them. He feels tyhat the sharing of the factoid will be a powerful base to build a good relationship, especially sonsidering that his mother is growing more and more unstable daily and told him she would've gladly aborted him if she had the chance, last time they talked.
Subject Son feels a sudden renwed burts of affection for his father, feeling a broken relationship rebuild like in a stupid movie.
Actual "love you" phrases are exchanged.
Call from Subject Mother. She attacks verbally Subject Son.
Subject Son pays no attention, since that happens daily. Yet, this time the attack is based on the confidential discussion that happened between him and Subject Father. The factoid has immediately been yapped between the two, who, even if they're basically separated, apparently spend most of their lives chatting on the phone about their faimilies and exchanging unpleasantries.
Subject Father has apparently told her a botched up, heavily modified version of the factoid, adding nonexistent details and various insults to her person. Also he added "he's always been a bastard, he will tell you a different story but he lies. you should've aborted him".
Subject Mother fueled herself with alchol, added some other details in her head and decided to call her son on his work phone, making his coworker snicker at her incoherent babbling, and insult him violently. She also adds that SUbject Father isnt ill and made his diagnosis up. Again.
Subject Son lets thing go. Tells himself to control himslef, then cannot and calls Subject Father to ask for clarification.
Subject Father answers "i never said that. you're making this up. actually what are you talking about, asshole?" "that thing i told you in confidence. you promised youw ould keep it to yourself" "i never said that. i dont even remeber you talking to me. youre making it up. of course you're sad and alone. your mother has gone insane because of you. i got cancer because of you" "dad..." "shut up. are you drunk? at work? do you want me to die?"....
Conversation quits with insults.
Repat until Subject Son goes insane and kills everyone.
domenica 22 maggio 2011
I slept badly tonight. Lot of heavy dreams, covered with a thick, strange, black goo, that reproduce moments of the daily drag, in a more oxygen deprived way. Some sort of Groundhog Day replaying of embarassign crap, coupled with immagination and fear. Then waking up like i'm rising from a swamp of tar, breathing badly. My brain trying to run off the clutch of sleeping pills, which give me the ability to actually sleep a number of hours and get some slight third rate addict buzz but put my dreamin into a vice, making it drown slowly and making a chore of getting out of it.
I feel like i'm about to die when i open my eyes. The night out has left nothing but a slight, sour taste of pointless, funless, pretending.
When the sun is up on full throttle, it's when the chemicals in my head are at their lowest spot. The moment i'm awake, i just want to sleep more. I hate being awake. Even if i had nightmares. And i hate being awake on a sunaday even more. A sunday is a long drag, made of daylight, fake social happiness and free tiem to think about disappointments. So i'd rather be hung over like i used to. Have a series of symptoms that could justify this. Although i cant stand the hangover now, the nausea, the shivers, the headaches, cause they would just hold hands withg my brain and turn this shit pit into something even tighter.
I just wanna sleep again, possibly not wake up. Still i cant sleep much more.
So its time to wake. I chat a bit with the person i love the most in this world and it makes me feel like everything is going to be alright for a minute. I try to rest some morre and fail. Panic creeps in.
I have to drink coffee, add my natural uppers, just to fight the meds trying to mute my head anbd be on a decent level. Its what suyicidal drugged up star do. I used to do worse, i actually did it with drugs and medicines, no its only with natural stuff, if possible. Having to pop pills cause therapy made me, then taking natural uppers to avoid going too low.
Today they go in the wrong direction and they help terror being stronger. Things seem sdo black today. I dont like the way things are going, i dont like my life. I cant complain to pfirends too much cause i know these moments come and go and when they're here, there is no solution. I would suck them dry and make them hate me, it happened before. there's no fixing for this. all i have to do is wait for it to go.
Still. Its like the walls are closing in. I dont know why, but i keep checking my txts and thinking why such and such hasnt talked to me in a while. Maybe, its because i havent called them, ever, and been a complete douche. And yet my head takes the cue and starts spinning. I feel like i did it all wrong. My job was a mistake, my solitude will kill me. I can fuck but i cant love. I am a walking dead. And i hate whining, even to myself.
The heat is suffoicating and my heart is racing. The head feels like a thousand nails are diggin in. The blood pressure raises and i feel the mental pain become physical. For a second, i really want to die.
Clench teeth and focus. I can get out of this. I have to.
sabato 21 maggio 2011
venerdì 20 maggio 2011
giovedì 19 maggio 2011
There's some days which are just some of those days.
You woke up and your back hurts, you have a migraine, your mouth tastes like shit. There was no coffee in the house, your spouse/partner/roommate forgot to get it or you did. They also treated you like a stinky crap filled doormat with a badly drawn snowman on, cause they are having a bad day too. You didnt answer cause you have to live with them and if you DID answer, it would mean days and days of silent torture or ear scorching bitching, and your stomach hurts enough without that.
So you went to a bar and you overheard people having a conversation on how niggger-fag-commiues are the reason for everything wrong in this world, and how if it was for them they would shoot everyone. Also women are all bitches. But you didnt intervene in the argument cause they never learn, theyre not designed to do so. Also they have way much more free time than you do and seem to love spending it arguing the same points over and over and over until you want to die.
So you just went in line and tried to pay your coffee, and dodged an old lady who had to tell te cashier about her dog Waldo's diarrhea problems. And when you asked her nicely if she could let you pas, she snarked at you and called you a rude youngster, while the cashier went on a break.
You got to work and the computer had a system failure, thanks windows. No one in the whole fucking office seemed to know how to fix things and were all waiting for you to do it. So while the boss screams at you to go faster, unless you want to go work somewhere else and your coworkers laugh behind your back, including the illiterate secretary who basically has her desk cause she has a gaping vagina the size of Kentucky.
After five system restorings, you give up and call tech support, where they are as stressed as you are and neither of you has the strength or will to solve the issue. Plus you have a waiting call from your mother which just needs to tell you what a sad disappointment you are, no matter what you do or say.
Many would say that the right path for you would be to be a bigger person, take the higher road, react with calm and a smile, act zen like, shrug it off. But people who say that are often unemployed or always had their road paved with other people's corpses. They have no fucking idea.
So feel free, for once and for all: be an asshole. Mistreat people, answer rudely, tell your mom to shut the fuck up, have a field day, do not feel bad.
You have the right to get angry once. You have the right to be selfish, cruel and mean. You OWE to yourself to tell people to back off and learn how to figure out shit on their own. To ask for things and call people idiots if they dont get them. Yes, society needs tolerance but piling up stuff inside burns up your soul. So, youre allowed to be openly snarky and abrasive and NOT feel bad or guilty. Fuck them. You have given your part, been there for everyone and been a delightful person. Now its your turn to make a few days ugly and miserable. Its your little present to yourself.
Then you can go back to being a good person, if you want. Lighter, like a butterfly who just had a giant smelly dump.
mercoledì 18 maggio 2011
martedì 17 maggio 2011
lunedì 16 maggio 2011
domenica 15 maggio 2011
sabato 14 maggio 2011
mercoledì 11 maggio 2011
Lets talk about the one thing that can really make the woeld go 'rounbd and improves life considerably: perviness.
martedì 10 maggio 2011
lunedì 9 maggio 2011
venerdì 6 maggio 2011
I mean, take for example, the word "Bullying". Remember what REAL bullies were? They were big guys, with a mean streak a mile wide, that tormented you and humiliated you, if you happened to be weak or a tad too annoying, teaching you a valuable lesson on getting stronger and growing a pair. Now, in the new age of insensitive sensitivity, everyone calls people out for "Bullying" or (i'm going to throw up) "Cyber Byullying".
I agree, words can hurt (although not as much as a broken bone, trust me) and emotional violence is bad, but still, out of all the cases of "Cyberbullying", a lot of them seem more of case of extreme love for whining and inability to cope with the fact that most people will eventually be rude, mean or aggressive, as it's a perfectly normal part of human nature. So you can see the victim, becoming the victimizer, screaming "hate" and pointing fingers at everybody, and causing witchhunts and an overload of carefulness. Or worse causing a reaction that actually make people shrug off the victims of the real thing.
"Stalkers" used to be big deal. Ask to women who have dealt with real, dangerous ones. A Stalker made you fear fpr your life. Didnt necessarily have to be a stranger, often it was someone you knew. Someone who were insane enough to make you permanently scared, but also smart enough to never attack you in an open way, so they could be caught. They threatened you in hiding, slowly corroded your will to live, and your confidence and safety. They were cats who tortured the mouse for days without actually killing it.
Nowadays, while the real deal still exists, everyone seems to have "stalkers". Theres sites, or spam, everywhere that supposedly allows yout to "track down whoever looks at your facebook or twitter profiles". That type of stuff fills out a demand generated by the suffocating obsession with self importance of a lot of people, mixed with paranoia induced by too much information and a lack of actual trouble in life.
You can see people, lately, calling "stalker" pretty much everyone: from someone who writes them one email too many, someone who answers their tweets, even epople who just happened to hang at their same place they do. Have one of these paranoid people in your life and you'll have many chances of being accused of being a "Stalker". And on a social level, it's not far from fake accusations of rape. You dont have to have actually done anything, you're pesumed guilty without having done anything and nothing you can say will prove you're innocent. The "victim" will become the one actually "stalking" you, attracted by the potential for attention, they will not let things go and make your run away and hide, cause any reaction you might have could be and will be misinterpreted.
And while the actual dramatic side effects of this arent really that big, the worst aspect of it would be how people who acyually had one of the real persecutors in their lives, will be regarded as potential liars, how a few hysterical subjects will exploit the safety measures that were supposed to help real endangered people and make the idea of "stalking" a grotesque parody. There's actual people out theree who has been broken in their spirit and soul, by fear. And often they're laughed at or ignored because of a multitude of lonely misfits who think screaming wolf is the only way to have any attention in their life.
So grow up: no one rally cares about you. Theres real victims out there and youre hurting them all over again. Back off.
giovedì 5 maggio 2011
He is usually that guy who sits next to you and makes your day longer. He isnt a bad person, at all. But he is empty as a charlie sheen coke bag. He doesnt really care about anything, he's burnt out, jaded, stressed and offensively ingorant and apthetic. He isnt very good at what he does, merely survives by competence. He resents everything and everyone and expresses it with his monotone pointless statements ("heh fuck, whatchagonnado"). Opens the days asking you five questions about you, never listens to the answers. Cant do shit and usually fucks up stuff. Dont get angry, his existence is worthy as the doormat's one. Probably less.
This one is actually smart. Knows stuff, is genuinely helpful at first, can be an amazing work partner, and you can have decent conversation with him sometimes. Smiles a lot, almost constantly. Has a chirpy attitude, motivational stuff on their desk, picture of their kids on their desktop. Throws a lot of office parties. Still, when the time comes, they will destroy you. They will talk shit about you, backstab you, steal your work,. try to harm your career and life, diffuse rumours, sabotage you. And if you react indignantly, they will mon you until you go crazy. Best solution? Be Like Them. Smile, but watch out. Always.
Not particularly competent or funny but he sticks out for one thing: hes a gross pig. He has the worst jokes, porn pictures on his computer, made up tales of sexual perverisity (of the bad kind, not funny. lots of times they involve prostitutes, booze and STD's). If youre a lady he will almost raoe you, until you threaten him. Then he will run away, cause like all that type of guys, he's a coward. He's often married with dominat angry women and is totally pussywhipped in private
The Angry Ass
This guy has an opinion about any topic, usually wrong and he will shout it repeatedly. He is sublimely ignorant about everything but as the true ignorants, he thinks the little he knows is superior knowledge. Generally reads pointless factoids while hes on the shitter or prentending to work and creates giant fucked up theories or beliefs on those.. The proceeds to shout said stuff at anyone, shouting louder if they dont agree. Big conspiracy theorist. Duh.
The Misunderstood Wannabe Genius
This fella has no competence, smarts or special ability whatsoever but he thinks hge does. So he overcompensates with poser attitude. Usually he thinks hes a potential minion but he doesnt have the actual balls to be one. Has some weird, pointless role, like "Creative assistent". Dress like an art critic, doesnt shave, smokes a lot, is neurotic, flirts with everyone but is often sexually inadequate, brags a lot about past adventures that never happened. Writes some amazingly convoluted memos that look like Surrealist Poems and end up being about the coffee pot needin refills.
Ok, fags. Add your own, and comment if you like. Or not