In a perfect world, people's actions would be governed by either the dubiously enlightening
insanity of drugs, or a double tablespoon full of 'grow as a person-or-shut-the-fuck-up'1.
However, to quote the illustrious Ice-T, my mentor in all things humanist:
"Shit ain't like that!!!!.........It's REAL FUCKED UP!!"2
The same whiney little ingrates that scream toddlerish the catchy mantra
"XP Packrape .. XP Packrape .. XP Packrape ", will be the same ones fighting
over your earthly possessions when you lie, unharried by the world at last,
in your tastefully selected (not by your family, but by someone who really
cares...the parlour director), burial casket.
After all, they bought you a mother's/father's day card once. Shouldn't that
render them deserving of a fat wad of inherited cashly goodness? Just like
shitty boring nodes encompassing the amazing length of a single sentence, containing
the collected wisdom of the world's entire population of intestinal parasites,
are a necessary and sufficient condition for a server destroying influx of
votes and absolute unconditional fucking jizz spraying approval in a 360 degree arc.
Sure, I'm the last one to spank someone with the "that wasn't a fact son" stick. I'm
going to avoid lining up for the "We're doing it for knowledge..and indeed humanity"
noder affiliation booth. I'm unashamedly approval seeking by nature, after all, I
could just keep a journal if I was entirely subservient to my introspective drive. Generally,
_insert the fun things_ here.
One last word from Ice-T:
"...look 'em in the face and tell 'em to suck your dick."3
1 See hypocrisy. You *can* choose to shoot the messenger because he lies in his time off.
2 ..section of the intro to track 4 "Body Count", from the identically
titled album. 1992 Sire records. The recommended side-serving for a slab of beer,
a graphics tablet, and the burning desire to work up some lurid graphics that will forever remain
an adornment of your hard drive.
"You know sometimes I sit at home, and you know, and I watch TV.
I wonder what it would be like to live someplace like, you know, the Cosby show, Ozzie and Harriet.
You know where cops came and got your cat outta the tree, all your friends died of old age.
but you see, I live in south central Los Angeles, and unfortunately..."
....you know the rest.
3 ..section of track 16 "Momma's Gotta Die Tonight", from "Body Count". Not
recommended mother's day lunch mood music.
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