me1 The Monotonously Ranting Negatron of Bitterness and Blame
...I fucking hate systems, but when the hell are you not in one? You
are born into a family system (these days apparently it's 'all good' if this
involves single-motherhood and furious crack use). You are roughly thrust
into an educational system, so that your parents can gain some time away from
your irritating childish antics, and you can learn life's tired lessons:
- Boring people will talk at you for extended periods of your rapidly diminishing
life.
- It's good to learn what dead people used to think when they were alive, even
if it was wrong then.
- Other people have the ability to feel good by not liking you. They will alert
you to this interesting factlet by punching you in the back of the head.
- Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names may make you break your
own bones, or swallow a shotgun barrel.
- Someone must be the person who operates a cash register for the rest of their
lives. It's for the good of society. Besides, they're dumb anyway, and we eat cows,
so it's not such a stretch.
If you are *lucky* enough, you may be crammed tight into even more systems! Got
parents who desire to live out their remaining exhalations through your forced
accomplishments? Welcome to music lessons, or early mornings in the pool, or
after school tennis. Sure, some people become rich (and that's fucking great!)
and magazine worthy because their parents did this. Others just become bored and
bitter and vow never again to raise a flute with anything less than raging intent to
kill.
Your parents have a strong belief in sky spirits? At least Sunday School will
get you ready for working on weekends.
Maybe the only extra-curricular activity your parents have in mind is a
system of abuse. This may make you wonder if it's ok to have kids so that you
can fuck with their minds and bodies; after all you aren't allowed to do that
with puppies or kittens. Just as with most things, it's only ok if you don't get caught.
You have a system of relationships with your friends. They're the people who
throw up in the car you borrowed from your parents, or get you into fights with
people bigger and far more psychotic that yourself. Maybe they'll just bitch about
you behind your back, or help increase your already overwhelming insecure hate of your
fat ass.
You'll end up in a system that employs you. *Even* if you work for yourself. Actually,
you don't work for yourself, unless you fucking pay yourself for what you produce.
Get ready to bend and spread big time. Hell, get ready for guilt if you manage to cruise
your way through a job with your eyes closed and snoring.
You'll experience the joys of a system of involvement with one or more people of
varying genders that you thought it would be fun to sleep with. Sure, the sleeping with
part was fun, but what's all this fucking shit about buying a new couch, and
cleaning up coffee stains on the kitchen bench? Oh, and I didn't think guilt was a positive
emotion. "Fuck no I don't want to have kids .. I *was* one remember..they fucking suck!"
You always have the larger system of society. Line up for that bank queue baby! The
bank is doing you a big fat fucking favour by taking your money and lending it
do other people so that they can make billion dollar profits, and then charging you
actual fucking fees for having them do it. Bank fees are the single most obvious
sign that Satan roughly fucked God up the ass, put several bullets in the back of God's head, burned the
bearded corpse, and came on down to earth for a spot of restructuring, and new
management initiatives. Try asking for your pay in cash, or even a cheque.
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA-FUCKING-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. You will find
that you no longer even have the freedom of being fucking bashed senseless for something other than
your card and PIN number.
Don't be alarmed if you experience long-lived periods of confusion and dismay at the
sheer number of systems based rules which you will be required to follow. Smalltalk with
strangers, mother's day cards, acceptable dress, what movie you should like based on you
sub-cultural profile, the brand of detergent that best suits your personality. These are
just small parts of the big systematic method that helps you yearn for death.
Then, on a day surprisingly not too distant, it will be time for your kids and/or relatives to
fight amongst themselves for the right to tell
the doctors to unplug the fucking life-support system.
What are you going to do? In the same way that ants and bees don't just say (or buzz/click/emote
with pheremones) "fuck that fat queen bitch, I ain't slaving the rest of my short life for the single
purpose of pumping out more of me", you won't do shit.
me2 The life's too short to be 'X' vegetarian tree-hugging moon-dancer
You have serious problems. Or more correctly, it would appear that you have an absence of
*real* problems, and are constantly intent on inventing some to keep your paranoia and bitterness
amused. I question whether you truly believe all the negativity which seems to preoccupy you.
If you feel happiness, do you need to question the source? Sure, you can deconstruct it and
reduce it to the level of electrical impulses and chemical reward systems, but that doesn't make
it any less a happy feeling. You don't seem to be able to apply the same reductionism to your anger
or angst, which is strange.
Do you really not care about anyone? We have friends. We have a partner. We have a family. All
of these people care for us, and I think you care for them.
You can't really blame society for your problems. You are part of it. It is not an enemy. Sure, it
doesn't always seem to be an inherently good thing, but we are the number one determinant of how
much control society exercises on our actions. Your nihilist rantings are puerile and self-serving.
Yeah sure, sure, you need more reasons to continue being bitter, because it has been such a large
damn investment and it would be such a shame to waste. Life's too short and then you die? Ok, so
let's spend it in angst soaked misery then just to make sure.
Why is it so much harder to write through my hands than through yours? Why does positivity make
us cringe, while bile spills frothing and unchecked from our lips with such ease when you're in control.
You even gave me a crappy vacuous name to rob me of any credibility and demean me before it was even
my turn to think. I would kill you if I could, and it would be a mercy killing, without guilt or
regret. You just hold us back.
Don't forget me you hideous cocks. Sure, I have other names depending on context; but E2 seems to
be a fine forum for my wares at present. I was trying to work through you two fuck-nodules as much
as possible, but I haven't counted a single reference to tentacle pr0n yet. Sure, ranty used the
word 'fuck' a few times, but that's old hat. You sick limp fucks are probably destroying my mad-leet
XP/node ratio, so I'd better add:
Accept me. Love me.
Destroy everything you make! It's just plain fun! (I'm the one they forgot about) | 
