This is, perhaps, the most engaging--and most disturbing commentary ever written. And I'd just like to say; MY COMMENTARY! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Nobody else gets credit, and nobody else gets blame. I kind of doubt that anybody else will try to say this was THEIR idea, and that's just fine with me. Me! Me! Me! Me! Go away now. Do not read another word here. You think I'm kidding, right? It's like Bill Hicks telling all the marketing and advertising people to kill themselves, and you're waiting for the joke. There's no joke. Go away. Go play on that MySpace thing, watch MTV, or get something pierced. Maybe you "deserve" a Brittney Spears tattoo (or something similar). Just go away; now. You seriously do NOT want to experience the fit I am about to throw here. That's neither a threat nor a preview; that's ME begging YOU to go away now. You have been warned.

One more time for both; this time in all caps:



I am actually terrified of putting this commentary up--it's going to knock some simple minds off of their fragile balance. There are people; perhaps you are one of them, who go around in life looking for things to be upset about. (Welcome to Hell, bitch.) And then those people expend incredible amounts of energy being upset and offended. I giggle at those people. I am ANTICIPATING death threats and governmental intrusion--although I don't know why. If our government had a clue, then they would know that I am potentially their greatest untapped resource. They do need me, but they don't like me--and won't let me join their little gay Illuminatti sorority (they won't even tell me how to spell it). So fuck them, too.

Pissy Christmas Spirit 2006

I've had real, live back pain since 1982 (car wreck). I must continue to do exercises everyday just to make this pain tolerable; I (currently) cannot even pay to get pain pills for my DOCUMENTED disk problems (herniated, DDD, pinched nerves, new mobility limitations, etc.). But I have to suck it up and live on. And yet, I work with/know people who get hundreds of free pain pills a month, good pain pills, every month, and they don't even ACT like they have pain; ever. One of these guys who gets pills every month carries around a 20 lb. fucking "purse" with him always; it has books, cameras and computer equipment in it (and 6 bottles of pills). It's like a suitcase. He CHOOSES to carry around this purse. How can a person CHOOSE to carry around a 20 lb. purse while claiming to have back pain? I see a connection between the purse and the pain; does anybody else grasp this shit? I look at this guy and wonder when the rules changed.
Rules changed? I also know 2 other guys who drive their vehicles while wearing neck braces. This was illegal back in the 1980's, and I would know, but apparently is encouraged by law enforcement now. Huh?
And there's this 8th grade dropout guy in my apartments who gets $400 a week in unemployment, plus more in food stamps, plus one of his kids adds welfare to the household income; he gets more $ to NOT work than I have ever made in my life from working. His "house" earns more than ours.

Yeah, I'm getting good and revved up now. Last month I donated some money to a children's charity, and that put me on the fucking mailing list for every pissant charity in existence. I'm still being mailed requests for donations to charities 4 months later; can you believe this shit? I make $8 an hour. I don't even bring home $300 a week. One charity sent me a voucher for 50 lbs. of rice; imagine how much good that might have done if the voucher had been sent to a poor country--lacking rice. Some other charity place even sent ME a packet of seeds, and told me how much food the seeds would provide for little Abdullah in his home country. Are they trying for guilt here? Right; so why didn't the charity send the stupid seeds directly to little Ahmed? What the fuck am I supposed to do with a pack of carrot seeds in Winter; smoke them? I scattered the trash--who fucking cares? I hope baby Sinbad starves, and then the news says that 'just one more pack of carrot seeds would have saved him'. Charities are fascinating, aren't they? Maybe a charity should send me some money, and some pain pills. Yeah. Here we go...

Christmas spirit? Yeah, here's some Christmas spirit for you. Last year, I got in trouble for threatening to kill all the people in a nearby bar who were calling me after 11 o'clock at night--after being told/asked by me to never call my residence after 9 pm. That's the rule; don't call me after 9 pm. They called me, for no good reason other than that they were not supposed to, and so I threatened to kill them on this page. I wasn't even totally serious then. Complaints were filed about my website; in turn, I was told that my website would be shut down (I also cussed out some dumb, fat girls in a Yahoo chat room this week, and that MAY have contributed to the shut-down threats). I politely petitioned in reference to the 4 disclaimers atop my webpage (What kind of moron fuck would read this stupid site, huh?), and won, thereby keeping my webpage out here on "the internets". I had to agree to end my "Personal News" section, because of the emotions it was apparently triggering in some of the moronic pussies who actually read this shit

Fuck all of them. And fuck all of you. And if you're reading this; right here, right now; if you are really here--and not just being told about some internet crap "second hand smoke" style: FUCK YOU. Imagine me pulling down my pants and mooning you, then turning around and flipping you double middle fingers on both hands, then spitting at you like Terrell Owens does, then dropping to the ground and scraping up dirt in both hands to throw at you. Imagine my doing all of this while in the midst of a Denis Leary "fuck you" dance. Perhaps it reeks of pageantry, or it might even be amusing to a certain sick degree (you twisted fuck), but it is real. Let the bar-b-que begin; you can laugh AND be offended while your fat ass gets cooked to a thoroughly well-done finish, begging for some A-1 and hot sauce. God damn I'm hungry. I will fucking eat you.

So; instead of threatening any individuals (oops), I have a new proclamation for the entire planet; and here it is: I am going to snap soon. I'm going to @#$& everybody; everything in the fucking world. I'm not talking about bombs; fuck bombs. Bombs are what our own government uses to scare us. An explosion here, an explosion there--even a whole continent disappearing would just be shit for shat, and hardly worth the effort. A polar shift is close, a pole-reversal would be better, an ELE is definitely the right direction--but that might leave the possibility of future life, and we can no longer take that chance. (Threatening to "dissolve" the planet might need to stay in edit code--I'm not sure. But fuck you, anyway.) I'm talking about @!$$0!#!*% the entire planet earth from core to fucking crust. @#$%; like it never fucking !@#$%^&. All land, all water, and all flesh--@#$%@&#$. Completely. Don't call me a terrorist; call me a solutionist. The stupid experiment is over; we did not win the science fair, and I'm very sorry that you idiot humans messed it all up before I could get down here to fix it. We don't need a clean slate; we need a brand new beginning--somefuckingwhere else. We're going to take this over-stuffed garage full of stupid human shit--and turn it into a ---, ----- ----. "---, -----, ----." And I'm here to !@#$%^&*!@ it.

Oh? This idea does not appeal to you? Shut down my fucking website, throw me in jail, and burn my possessions. You dumb rat fuck. Why would I buy any of your gasoline if I'm incarcerated? Yeah; smoke on that tailpipe. It will cost you MORE to keep me in jail than the $8 an hour I make--and I need the relaxation of a nice, secluded cell, anyway. I could finally read a fucking book. Do prisoners still get catered food, and 2 hours a day of internet time? I'm good with that. Fuck you. And while you're at it, go get fucked again. Merry Christmas card, mutherfucker. There's your spirit.

By the way; don't even mention God. I'm already in touch with God, and God respects my position. I enlighten God with my fresh perspective and brutal honesty; He likes me. He's NOT so sure about you. So don't waste MY time with the lies YOUR God tells you; for I am fully connected. Thank you very much. Sleep tight.

And then there are people; perhaps you are one of them, who will read this and say 'That's cute; I like that. This guy's good. I want to read more shit this guy writes.' Okay. WHY? Why would you EVER want to read more shit that I write? "This guy" is obviously old, pissy, bitter, hungry(!), poor, and in extreme pain--constantly. He is an infected dingleberry, and NOT the good kind. People, and that does include you: People are...fascinating.

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