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December 25 - December 30, 2020
Clearing brush at 8am on a Sunday. Definitely the best time to have loud machines. Not between 9 and 5 on a weekday when people are at school and work. 8AM Sunday when the crew can make double time and people want to sleep in.
At 28 women start calling men by their jobs.
At 28 girls chase the surgeon, the CEO. At 22 the black tar smoking bass player. Pussy chases extremes. The middle is death. A job that doesn’t eat your life, art as a hobby: death. Pussy wants a mansion or pussy wants to sleep on the sidewalk. I have an apartment.
Our spoiled rotten women, with their equality and voting and their birth control and not getting hit. Fuck all that. I mean, I support it politically. But there will be no next generation because no one wants to wash the fucking dishes. I get it. I don’t either.
It’s a curse to have opportunity. You’re haunted by this idea that if you just work a little harder you might make it. If you could just grind out 1% more. That dream is a tool to keep you alive in the crab bucket. Crank up a stock owned by someone who fucking inherited it. You will never have enough money to just fucking relax. But they make you believe you might. The thing they do in hell is make you think you might get out.
I should start fucking whores but I’m too cheap.
Sex is an impulse. Setting it up in advance, like buying a 5 year CD to have pay for an eight ball.
I should have been born in France where people work two hours a week and spend the rest of the time leering at smelly French ass in the copy room. Lingering over meals; rhapsodizing over shaved carrots.
After the bar we made out in the back of the Subaru. I got her pants off. Very tough in the confines. Women, please wear a skirt.
Heresy to admit that gays get AIDS because they fuck a thousand strange men in toilets, huge black dongs rasping bloody shitty assholes dry. That’s where AIDS comes from.
I looked them up. They’re hard to kill. Why is every other organism so superior. I could die from tripping on a tree root. Fleas can lay dormant for 50 years. They wake up, fuck once, impregnate a flea woman with 1,000 more fleas.
Only pussy I’m getting is return traffic. No new girls find me, since I stopped being a misogynist.
Your big brain which you think is to make tools, fight off rampaging ground sloths– it’s to trick another man out of pussy until he brains you with a rock with his finely honed Darwinian hands. It’s to take things away from other people. Them or you. Money food pussy.
I make enough that I pay enough taxes to support another one of me. He’s in a Section 8 studio up in the Hotel Cecil. Some haunted spot downtown where they find suicides in the rooftop water tank. Disability checks cashed into Steel Reserve the instant they arrive. I pray that that’s where the money goes. The other me. The happier one.
Not one good woman in LA. Probably not one in America. They live to abuse you. They live to make you dance. Then they have the sheer balls to accuse you of entitlement.
Increased cost of living makes money meaningless, always.
If you want to predict the future, ask what makes heirs more money. What takes the masses’ time, freedom, happiness. That’s what will happen. We had a movement to free women. It multiplied the misery of both sexes. Women forced to work, men forced to work more when women don’t want a man who doesn’t have more than her.
If you want nineteen year old girls in your house, get drugs.
My friend’s into politics. MSNBC was on. Every ad for a drug. When I turned 120 my pancreas didn’t work the way it should, until I asked my doctor about Lumitra. Don’t take Lumitra if you have a liver or kidneys. You may experience hemorrhaging. When my foot rotted off from diabetes I thought I’d never coach my granddaughter’s gymnastics team again. Now there’s Xynquentra. The grandchild gazes lovingly at the old drug taker as they groom horses or play trumpet. The dream, to have a young person care you’re alive.
Anyway the news is for old people. Bernie Sanders was on. He looks great. It’s too bad he still exists because you’re reminded that Hillary spends her time sucking on baby brains with the Rothschilds in the Hamptons. Jerking off with a fetus leg to drone footage of Yemeni boys screaming on fire. Then a $100,000 per plate lamb entree.
I need a girl who’s a total loser but not bad looking. Who some other guy hasn’t got to first. I need a girl who has no job no car no place to live but not because they smoke crack or some shit. I need a girl who’s smart but no education. Could some day be a good mother but not a girl from a good family, ever– no one who talks to her dad. None of this good college Fortune 500 shit, I need a girl who earns minimum wage at the water store but doesn’t feel compelled to describe herself as CEO of me incorporated or some girly Etsy shit. Ambition makes me puke.
At least people I hate are miserable. At least Amanda Marcotte cried.
I have money and Cadillac insurance. The insurance left wing politicians talk about to illustrate how good rich people have it. Doesn’t matter. Still have to get a referral. Wait eight weeks. What I need costs a grand. I’d gladly pay cash to be done with it. You can’t. Have to be billed 28 grand so your insurance can haggle it to 3 grand of which you pay a grand.
It costs $68,000 a year to go to college. It costs $700,000 to buy a house. The good news is it can’t last. Women don’t have babies because they work. This system will die.
My opener is a better piece of writing than anything about Donald Trump but people who write about Trump get paid for it. You have to write about Trump or fucking Brianna Wu.
Trump won. He ran against the banks then tried to hire Jamie Dimon. Of course. It was time to get serious. You need the A team to run a hideously complex usurious system of parasites designed to crush human lives. Suck up the lifeblood of the people and planet. The stock market went up. It goes up no matter what. That’s what we are for. Quarterly gains.
I have four years of sobriety, she said, clearly high on meth.
I wanted to complain there were no girls, but there were a lot. One was perfect. He introduced me. I was on somehow. Sometimes I’m retarded but sometimes I’m a wizard. Plus I just came in a tweaker.
The Women’s March worked. Trump was deposed. A pink pussy hat now president. Horny killers from Damascus welcomed at LAX by your girlfriend. Schools teach in Mexican. New Chief Usury Officer of Goldman Sachs is trans. Brianna Wu on the $100. Eye in the pyramid now Lena Dunham’s asshole. All pregnancies terminated; late term abortions turn babies into pugs. Ploughshares beat into social media brand management. All workers sponsored content ambassadors for Huffington Post. Doritos knows Black Lives Matter. New twins in Beyonce’s cunt brought to you by Audi. Lyft pledges allegiance to Sharia.
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There are a few good moments, but life is mostly shit. If you’re the sort of person who talks about privilege: I have bad news. I am white, tall, not ugly, heterosexual. I was born with a dick and consider myself a man.
Privilege does not mean happiness.
I need insurance. What if I get cancer. What if I have to spend eight hours a day in chemo getting my blood poisoned. Brain erased. Plus commute. It costs a lot for them to kill you slowly.
Go make a living writing. Go talk about Trump like it fucking matters who’s president. You and the rest of the retarded children. Go make topical shit to sell ads, go make the fucking Tonight Show of Social Justice with Trans Jay Leno Brought to you by Comcast for Vice Facebook Exclusives.
You want me to give shit about what you think, cut me a check every week. Or be a woman. Not a fat one either.
Work was to support families but you can’t have families now. The system fucked up. Women becoming useless was supposed to happen after artificial wombs. Sex robots, etc. But the Kwisatz Haderach came too soon. The reptilians didn’t carry the two. So you and me get to live in the time of depopulation. But only for us.
His early work made it look like he fucked the models. You don’t become a photographer to take pictures.
When’s the last time a law helped you.
Tonight I’ll suck the snatch and titties of a beautiful young poet. She applies lavender. Being near my lavender plant now gives me an erection.
Robot self checkout but she has to stand next to it. Guide every customer there. Trained what to say to train us to replace her.
I’m on Hinge, it’s a Pottery Barn catalog of middle age adjacent professional Jews with their dogs.
I’d rather swim in Bali with a cobblestone around my neck than take a white woman there. Picture her yelling some feminist talking point at a Muslim market stall attendant who’s crushed 10 human heads with an SKS stock. Poaches Komodo dragons with bare hands as a side gig. Kissinger era armaments buried in his yard, in a place where there’s no law against backhanding your wife. Making her T shirt price dispute my problem. Omigod he’s scaring me, are you gonna do something–
I do have a hundred grand. Some of it’s a retirement account. I’d pay taxes if I withdrew it. So suddenly it doesn’t count.
Looking back it never could have worked. Me and her, or any of it. The world moved on. The normal inherited the Earth. They saw us as the enemy. The last pocket of retrograde evil in a society moving toward sexless pet care utopia.
the problem is I’ve never been racist. To start hating Jews now would be apres-garde.
SSRI Bumble women- never. I’d sooner date a man.
Get into the furry community- no, again, this shit is all dudes. Every subculture is all dudes. The laundromat is all dudes. What do women do all day.
Going to a therapist who helps people give up their dreams. $225 for the hour. Her office is her $2 million house. Dead dreams here like oil to the Saudis.
Something about how a girl has to be 8/10 genius 20 years younger than me to be 1% more interesting than Nintendo.
A car, unlike a woman, does what it’s supposed to. Would have kept all my cars for life. I eject a woman after 3 weeks.
One hot girl. I can only admire her bone structure. Like looking at a nice old car when you can’t drive stick.
