They don't make them like they used to we hear and that's because they now make them for who they want you to be. A standardized, one fit, over valued, credit card owning mindless moron who doesn't have to worry about his needs because he can buy something that he ll never need and spend his artificially extended lifetime paying off. A trilliod core billiod processor with an 8000 gb RAM and a zillion terabytes of memory so that you can play candy crush on fb. Go fucking compute the answer to the meaning of the universe while youre at it. We are sold a life we don't need, maybe don't want but need to have cause the man on tv has them. I dont get it. Why the fuck do you want what the other guy has when you can have something original. Brands! That's another thing I don't get. What the fuck are you paying for at a branded store. Apparently the air conditioning, the teak racks, the thousand dollar jacket on the managers back, the rent, the tax of the guy who owns the brand and his chartered jet, his private island and all that jazz. Operational expenses they call it. Basically it's your service telling you they're charging you so that they make less of the mistakes which end up costing you. That's customer service folks. This has been a Carlin inspired rant, though I can not touch the Master's style, but I pose one last question as I leave. Why is it so Goddamned hard to find a pair of jeans that fit and why are tailor's so bloody expensive and why do I fucking swear so much and really why can't I find a decent budget laptop in the space age. This has been fun. Now I'll go to sleep counting the fucks about everything.
Kamikaze
Monday, July 1, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
From Scratch
The process of reinventing oneself does not play out like Houdini's magical feats where the fool of a devil puts his head under the axe and struggle till it falls only to reveal himself as one of the audience his perpetrators head rolling in place of his own. No. The art of reinvention clocks a piecemeal course from the dawn of a life to its dusk. Slow and steady like the sun.No. More like a meteor which wanders from one pond of gravity fields to another, slow enough to be smacked of course but fast enough to escape the sleepy repose of more gentle heavenly giants. This is not a blog of opinions or information, rather a stream of observation directed through mirrors and lives to questions.
I abandon pretense of any responsibility towards any topic here dealing with the nature of inquiry or inquiry as per my mood and ranting madly like a wench when the mood takes me because this soliloquy is my quest and my reward is a continuation of thought. Thoughts which are mirrors of the soul to the tourist and bread and butter of the philosopher.Let me build this cacophony of life and sound and words into a page of scratches.. A verbose and unpretentious ambition if you will. Hello.
I abandon pretense of any responsibility towards any topic here dealing with the nature of inquiry or inquiry as per my mood and ranting madly like a wench when the mood takes me because this soliloquy is my quest and my reward is a continuation of thought. Thoughts which are mirrors of the soul to the tourist and bread and butter of the philosopher.Let me build this cacophony of life and sound and words into a page of scratches.. A verbose and unpretentious ambition if you will. Hello.
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