Scythe
Taken from my blog:
Well Vigakettes and Vigakunnes, today I have no announcements. Today is just a rant. A collection of true to life visions of newly bred homosexuality. Enlightened torch of thought has engulfed my head with thoughts of foul play and hatred to those I once called "comrades". You see, the interweb, among other things, has a tendency to be used for social benefits. Example; if one decides to whore themselves out to those that adore to be onlookers, then seek one of these shits. Get it? Apperantly. Well, to my point. I've had a problem with people questioning my reason as to why I have not grown accustomed to respecting them. Have they taken a hard look at themselves? Probably not... My main focus, is interweb slang. About a week ago, someone went on to compliment me on a great job I had done with my blurbs, how I have a way with words. I have to admit, I fell in love with the verbal feces leaking out his mouth. However, all respect for that shitfaced nazi went down the drain when he went on to proclaim:
"You just totally have the COOLNESS thing down right! LOL!"
There! Right there! Those god-forsaken three letters! Those bon apetite, here's your shit in taco shell pathetic excuse of a written emotion or gesture. You have to be kidding me. Am I to believe that a grown ass mother****er is actually sitting in his chair right now, swinging himself backwards with sheer momentum due to the fact that he's actually laughing at an extremely loud volume? And maybe he is, but the important thing is, should we really trust these useless bags of meat and blood?
If you had a child, and knew for a fact that I would begin sprinkling pepper & fixings atop his soft doughy head for a meal unlike any other, and right beside me was a lunatic, self-proclaimed internet junkie, who laughs indoors just as he would outdoors, I'm sure you would entrust me with your offspring.
Because at least with me, you will still have remains, where in the junkies case, within ten seconds of holding your child, a rapture would occur, ripping the space time continuity, and thrusting both of them to a land where pixelated toasters with wings and emoticons hunt for game. A land where every women happens to be an even older man, or looking for a long distance relationship. A place where your child's first words shall be "OMGWTFBBQ!!11!!". A reality so surreal, you have to resort to tediously inspecting every detail of cartoon porn because frankly, live action porn has just bored you. A place where everyone greets you with a smile, then asks permission to rape you while his dogs watch, and all this happens before you even minimize the page that's showing your e-mails. This reality is also home to many telekenetics. Estranged middle-aged mud farmers who masterbate to increase their psychic prowess. Their main objective is to find your screen name, then the magic happens. With the blink of an eye, they read your mind, and plague you with their virus.
The bait being the information they have recovered from you most scripted hold. You find yourself saying yes to their invitation, then your infected, and your final words in your defense were that you didn't know, all you wanted to do was view the double-D schoolgirls have a pillowfight. You told yourself it would be "awesome" as well as "scantily clad", but it wasn't. Your screen begins flashing in many homosexual colors, a dog is seen being stabbed in the eye, while your child is then shown cooking macaroni and chees on a skillet. You say to yourself; "maybe the schoolgirls went to the store to buy honey to dab on eachother", then your hard drive is toast, and you find yourself making up excuses as to what happened to your computer. Excuse like: "It fell" or "I didn't know you weren't suppose to open e-mails labeled death". Applaude yourself you worthless piece of garbage, you've just had a first hand experience with the interweb. Now turn around and witness me trying my hardest to digest your child, and all of a sudden, I don't seem so bad right?
Well Vigakettes and Vigakunnes, today I have no announcements. Today is just a rant. A collection of true to life visions of newly bred homosexuality. Enlightened torch of thought has engulfed my head with thoughts of foul play and hatred to those I once called "comrades". You see, the interweb, among other things, has a tendency to be used for social benefits. Example; if one decides to whore themselves out to those that adore to be onlookers, then seek one of these shits. Get it? Apperantly. Well, to my point. I've had a problem with people questioning my reason as to why I have not grown accustomed to respecting them. Have they taken a hard look at themselves? Probably not... My main focus, is interweb slang. About a week ago, someone went on to compliment me on a great job I had done with my blurbs, how I have a way with words. I have to admit, I fell in love with the verbal feces leaking out his mouth. However, all respect for that shitfaced nazi went down the drain when he went on to proclaim:
"You just totally have the COOLNESS thing down right! LOL!"
There! Right there! Those god-forsaken three letters! Those bon apetite, here's your shit in taco shell pathetic excuse of a written emotion or gesture. You have to be kidding me. Am I to believe that a grown ass mother****er is actually sitting in his chair right now, swinging himself backwards with sheer momentum due to the fact that he's actually laughing at an extremely loud volume? And maybe he is, but the important thing is, should we really trust these useless bags of meat and blood?
If you had a child, and knew for a fact that I would begin sprinkling pepper & fixings atop his soft doughy head for a meal unlike any other, and right beside me was a lunatic, self-proclaimed internet junkie, who laughs indoors just as he would outdoors, I'm sure you would entrust me with your offspring.
Because at least with me, you will still have remains, where in the junkies case, within ten seconds of holding your child, a rapture would occur, ripping the space time continuity, and thrusting both of them to a land where pixelated toasters with wings and emoticons hunt for game. A land where every women happens to be an even older man, or looking for a long distance relationship. A place where your child's first words shall be "OMGWTFBBQ!!11!!". A reality so surreal, you have to resort to tediously inspecting every detail of cartoon porn because frankly, live action porn has just bored you. A place where everyone greets you with a smile, then asks permission to rape you while his dogs watch, and all this happens before you even minimize the page that's showing your e-mails. This reality is also home to many telekenetics. Estranged middle-aged mud farmers who masterbate to increase their psychic prowess. Their main objective is to find your screen name, then the magic happens. With the blink of an eye, they read your mind, and plague you with their virus.
The bait being the information they have recovered from you most scripted hold. You find yourself saying yes to their invitation, then your infected, and your final words in your defense were that you didn't know, all you wanted to do was view the double-D schoolgirls have a pillowfight. You told yourself it would be "awesome" as well as "scantily clad", but it wasn't. Your screen begins flashing in many homosexual colors, a dog is seen being stabbed in the eye, while your child is then shown cooking macaroni and chees on a skillet. You say to yourself; "maybe the schoolgirls went to the store to buy honey to dab on eachother", then your hard drive is toast, and you find yourself making up excuses as to what happened to your computer. Excuse like: "It fell" or "I didn't know you weren't suppose to open e-mails labeled death". Applaude yourself you worthless piece of garbage, you've just had a first hand experience with the interweb. Now turn around and witness me trying my hardest to digest your child, and all of a sudden, I don't seem so bad right?
Now that's just too far.