Deaded

Then, promptly it died on the floor of the Internet on November 27.

There it lay for some time, drifting amid the myriad ‘pedias, lurking on the comments sections and refining its writing styles to better serve the public through the high-minded notion that “If it didn’t bother the world, the world wouldn’t bother it.”

Or fucking something. Regardless, as you’ve figured out, I back-dated this to fit the narrative and give some idea of aggressive editing.

The main problem with blogging is that everyone does it. The secondary problem for someone who’s already putting their thoughts down somewhere is that there’s no purpose to add to the tsunamic wave of shit pouring over everyone lucky enough to have Internet access and dumb enough not to step away from it.

In the timeframe between then and now, I traveled the world and solved peoples’ problems much in the fashion of Caine from Kung-Fu. Older readers remember the character as being an early television archetype of the second-favorite of Americans, The Wandering Hero (the favorite is the Reluctant Hero, particularly the adept gunslinger who just doesn’t use a firearm unless absolutely necessary.) Younger readers will remember the actor portraying the character as that dude from Kill Bill who died from sexplay in Bangkok.

If you’ve gotta go, at least go big.

Maintaining all aspects of the Wandering Hero became tiresome, so we transitioned to marketing at an unnamed European conglomerate with shipping and food service holdings. After all, everyone has bills, and gin doesn’t just buy itself now does it.

I mean, it probably does if you’re Winston Churchill, but I don’t have the reputation for being one of the greatest drunks AND brightest wartime leaders in the modern West. One out of two ain’t bad.

Back to me.

So you’re here again and wondering what’s going on. Wondering, if it’s all going to stay. Wondering if there’s anything of value and the answer to all three of these is one big, fat, shiny hairy NOPE.

The world owes you nothing but disappointment, and it’s the only thing for which it will pay out triple.

This blog – and I hate that word because 1) it sounds like the noise that accompanies vomiting; and 2) because there’s so much self-righteousness that’s become attached to it – will not serve any ongoing purpose except for me to throw down. If any writing should commence here, momentarily or otherwise, then I plan on it showing as much of a lack of respect as possible, because polite society is a joke. There are certain opportunities within publishing for scalding reviews of “whatever the fuck the author chooses” and this is it. So that’s what this will be, my own personal periodic hate-filled report on the State of the Civilization.

For the Record, all those things in the lone update prior to this one still stand, I’ll just be adding inconsequential things like Character Studies, Philosophical Theses, Political Treateses (the name is Publius Minimus, after all. Fuck you.) and image macros that I stole off the Internet, but mostly off of Fark.

For the Record, Part 2, images with writing over them are called image macros, you willfully ignorant slobs. The word “meme” is reserved for an image macro that has received an inordinate amount of cultural attention, creating a momentary cultural phenomena. I realize that your friends need to be in on the joke so badly that they found a picture of a kitty and put some words on it, then shared their meme with you on Facebook as a way to hear your commentary about how great it was. I also realize that their pathetic search for love and understanding has manifested itself in ridiculous ways that deserve to be scorned.

Remember what I said about disappointment earlier? Quadruple that for people who try too hard or mean well, as both are excuses for failure, which has enough organic reasons for happening that we don’t need to be adding more.

So if you take away anything from this secondary post on a third-rate blog, remember that:

  • The world hates you, owes you nothing and the universe doesn’t care if you exist
  • You will be famous and loved until you strangle yourself to death while fapping
  • No, you haven’t created memes
  • I’ll make sense of it all for you, because I can and because you probably shouldn’t.
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