I don't want life with fleas. Deleted the app and switched to
The new controller is a mentally ill person bent on wholesale government surveillance and is very open on that stance. It's a story straight out of 1984.
"Citizens will be on their best behavior because we're constantly watching and recording everything that's going on."
It's not something I "did". It's something that happened.
I'd played blitz chess for years when I got bored and just stopped trying. That's when I started the winning streak.My fame went viral and I never lost a match. I was both glorified and vilified.
Opposing players gave a variety of reactions. Some smiled, others stormed off. For those who needed chess - or any crutch - for their worth I was their worst nightmare.
For that was my true purpose: to be a mirror, to trigger self-discovery.
She'd had chances to leave her prison marriage, chances to be free of the raging river leading to the waterfall of doom. But she completed her journey of being a helpless victim. Living off her past to pretend a present, she eschewed her future.
No more the sun to shine, wandering mindless in hallways of grey.
"I am Lot's wife."
Suddenly, everything I heard was boring yet boring while the world lost interest so I turned off the lights sinking in the farthest corner of the closet imagining myself rising into the sky seeing my roof my city my continent realizing I'm just God's passenger on a spinning orb according to the obnoid universe as I discover Solomon is right that everything is meaningless meaningless and what becomes me I know not because I let not shine in dark rot unseen yet never escaping the heartbeat within
During the day you see lofty apartments and think, "What if?" But they are pawns to be sacrificed in the game.
In some ways, we're better off. Sure lowlife cops may roust us, calling us "rebel scum" but it's the 401k crowd who's in the line of fire.
The rich imprison themselves in compounds which no person free of fear would do.
No place is safe. The world is where good things come to die.
Doing some sunlight reading in my car when I see two middle-aged dudes playing pickleball. The older one has his shirt off, dad bod in glorious display.
But he's playing with a rubber mallet!
Other guy has a proper paddle but mallet guy is struggling mightily. All sorts of things go through my mind.
Is there a paddle shortage? Is he trying to prove something? Is the guy just nuts?
No one goes over to ask him about it. Add another mystery to the pile.🤨
An explorer showed a flashlight to a member of a lost Amazon tribe cut off from the world. When the tribesman went back to his village and spoke of a stick that emits light, he was killed.
The villagers had deemed themselves to know what's real and no reasonable person would make the tribesman's claim.
But the closed mind is incapable of reason. It's forever bound to a limited set of facts maintained to justify its conservative static point of view.
Beware the one who deems himself to be of reason!
Standing in the sunshine of your lust
broadcasting my nudes by the highway run
in a lifemare of continually quelled panic
I give thanks for the daily scab
as I give curses for nurses I lost
a voice from a passing metalloid blames:
"Who killed Jesus?" "The voters!" I denied
in a place where two are never gathered
nobody is bothered to bother
as everyone races bothered
to escape the Eternal Question
that our childhood dismembered
in ragged love still sought
we rot
in the sunshine of our rust
If I mention the fuel gauge I'm called "unsupportive" and labeled "chicken little."
The "solution" to the driver is to put tape over the gauge and make clever political arguments that all is fine.
When I insist, I'm threatened with death as the driver "doubles down" by racing past the last gas station ensuring we're as far away as possible when the tank runs dry.
------------------
When such a person hears the words of this oath and they invoke a blessing on themselves [American exceptionalism], thinking, “I will be safe, even though I persist in going my own way,” they will bring disaster on the watered land as well as the dry.
Deuteronomy 29:19
Lucy the Loser decided to do exactly that, more excited than she'd been in decades as she airbrushed her glam photo.
"Desire is the enemy! It will lead you down wicked paths of self-betrayal. Never do what you want!"
Other failures in her sinking society applauded, voting her a winner!"
They love me for what I'm not."
"Dear God, I still need him," she discovered to her horror.
The Angel Of Desire answered her prayer, bringing him to her door. But she refused to answer."I said I wanted to see him, not willing to see him."
The Angel Of Desire left with him.
Later, she cursed the Angel for abandonment, becoming a conservative star voice "cursed by an angry universe."
And that's how she managed to die alone.
Here on Planet Pervert, the world is based on a lie. Keeping that lie alive is considered "responsible". Pursing the truth is "anarchy".
Art sends a message. It can be true, false, superficial - anything. But in a world where the ultimate rule is mob rule, does an artist find oneself censoring one's art?
Art demands absolute freedom. Anythings less is a deformity. Yes, to face ourselves is to know the horror of the crimes we've committed in the eyes of God.
Yet only truth will guide us home.
The boy fixated in horror as his life ended before his eyes. His one chance at love literally bled into the floor, her skull cracked.
Her death an accident but the argument not. He turned to face the mirror, seeing a face he'd never forget.
"Fucking asshole piece of shit. I oughtta take a baseball bat and beat the shit out of you every day for life. I can't believe you! I'm out on you forever!"
Unable to shake the simmering self-hate, he ran into the night, vowing never to forgive himself.
So much smarter than her friends! But her white-laden coworkers saw her differently.
Behind her back they called her "the Spic Chick" and even "Korea gonorrhea" because, you know, "if you ain't white, you ain't right."
They sniggered in unspoken conspiracy, relishing the day to betray her and see the look on her face.
Our Loudmouth Leader calls us the Defiant Ones, the Faithful Few who will laugh when the future arrives. The truth is just the opposite.
Our group lives in a played out gold mine but we assure the world there's gold still to be found. Our Leader goes on TV to give us a fig leaf of respectability. Fortunately, we live in a time where loudness still counts as rightness. That time will pass.
We have despair, not hope. We are lost, not saved. We have a community of lies, not love.
This is Hell.
"Stick Jesus in Dallas rush hour traffic and I guarantee you he'd sin. I'm trapped in hell! Get me out of here!"
"My tricks of denial don't work anymore. Better leave the gun at home! Don't know who I'll shoot first: me or them."
Meanwhile, back at the Billionaire Bunker:
"What will we do when the peasants finally revolt?"
"Just keep them chanting, 'We back the blue'. Then when time comes we'll use the cops to beat them black and blue!"
