It is at these moments that I wish I could breathe fire and pollute the water-ways of stupidity with a drug called finality. For one to think that the whole of the world cares only for magazines, tv shows, Jerry Springer, fashion, the in crowd, empty calories, fast cars, pretty fucking smiles, walk on bit parts, whatever the fuck it is that you diseased wretches find amusing, is for one to accept that the natural order has never really been a natural ingredient.
The next time someone tells me that their lawn is greener than mine, I swear, I'm gonna pick up their proverbial dog of war and scream "WELL THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD TELL SPOT TO FIND A FUCKING TOILET YOU ASSWIPE" Perhaps then they'll get a glimpse of my suspicion and know that their guilt will soon strangle their skinny little pompous necks.
I once heard that the so-called people in charge are merely just puppets made to hang on hooks in high places. I am beginning to believe this, and I want the names of all the little pussies hiding behind their guilt so that I may finally untangle the heart killing chains of suspicion.
I'll be looking through your trash cans to see how YOU motherfuckers like it.