Sunday, April 02, 2006

String of pearls or mind pooplets? You decide.

It's been a long, long week since the last firing at my office, and I've been putting in 45-50 hr work weeks, which if you know my attitude about work, is a sheer nightmare. It's just been an endless barrage of work, my traffic girl at the receiving end of my barks, whines and moans of "More? Christ!", and now she's out getting married this week, which means there is little to no traffic control. Everyone will want their work...NOW!

Enough of that! Talk of work has cast a stinky pall over what is supposed to be a lightheartedish post, it's just been on my mind.

Super Computer Under My Fingers

Photo 7

This picture was taken with an application on my brand new Macbook Pro, Serenity. We are now officially a 3 computer household with two notebook computers and an iMac in the basement acting as extra drive space.

I spent the last week installing Windows XP in a second partition on my drive Eris, because I will eventually want to play games on it other than Warcraft, and I thought I might need another os.

Doing Material
I've been thinking lately about wanting to be a Stand Up Comedian, then I think about the actual life of a stand up and decide...Ummm...No. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about material at inopportune times, about inappropiate topics. I get a good joke or observation about someone getting wildly fucked, or amusingly killed, but I can't write it down because I'm trying to sleep or washing the dishes. One evening, while doing said dishes, I was doing a whole routine and was I was even dealing with an imaginary heckler. Oh I tore him a new one, he couldn't even respond. Then my friend came over to drop something off, and popped my bubble.

I was thinking today, while cleaning the litter box, that the best comedy is transgressive, but Western Culture is running out of things to transgress about, so we have to go further and further to the edge. I mean how many times can we make fun of Jesus and his followers? Man it's played. Mohammed on the other hand...risking death for a joke? Now that's some edgy shit, but I'm too much of a pussy. For me the best butt of the joke is myself...and not all the Kikes, Niggers, Spics, Honkies, Chinks and Sand Monkeys out there clammering for my attention.

I think that people are becomming less uptight about making fun of people different from yourself. It's as if saying it, calls more attention to the idiots who actually use such racial epitaphs seriously. It makes me think about Freedom of Expression.
I want to express myself and say whatever I want when I want to say it. I would love to be able to tell my Boss to fuck off, with impunity, and I would, but he of course would just as freely say that I'm fired.

You know there are somethings you are not protected under by the 1st Amendment. You can't yell "Fire!" in a crowded auditorium if there is no fire. You might cause a panic and people would get hurt. But if you, say, set the seat cushion on fire because you're sick of sitting through yet another formulaic Hollywood film that a roomful of retards crapped out, you were coerced into seeing because it was your friends turn to pick the movie...then you are fully justified in yelling "Fire!"

You also can't threaten the President. It's a felony offense. In fact, just printing these words electronically will draw the attention of the SS. Just for the record, I don't want any injury to occur to the President of the United States. I love an cherish all human life, even if I don't like certain individuals, I certainly want everyone to live. I think I can say...and boy is my wife gonna be pissed when she finds out I'm poking the bear, but I think I can say, that I want the President to live a long, healthy and happy life. I just want to see the picture of Condoleeza Rice fucking his asshole with a strap-on dildo constructed out of an ear of corn.

That's the image I get, and it amuses me to think about it. Not because she's Black, that has nothing to do with anything other than pure Ironic Aesthetics (you know White Bread, Waspy, Redneck whose family fortune came from servicing Nazis, taking it in the pooper by a "Negro"), but because Condi is so damn smart. And if you have ever had sex with superintellegent Ubergal, you know that Missionary isn't even on the menu. Sex is about the whole specturm of pain, pleasure and power, and when you are Secretary of State, stuffing a ballgag in you're boss' mouth and riding his pasty ass, it really doesn't get much better than that.

At least that's what I think I can say. I'm not actually going to say it, but I posit, the theory that I could say it, should I choose to say it, which I don't.

I had other stuff to comment on to make up for lost time, but my day has slipped by. Here, though there is another puzzler I just discovered on Friday.

Book 3

A series of novels about Jason X Voorhes. Repent people, the end is nigh. We have squandered our birthright.

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