Ok, Enough of That

So, mea culpa, that's it from me on the Professor Greyroots crap, unless he happens to take me up on my offer (yeah, I'll be holding my breath over that one). I really hate getting involved, and I must discipline myself to remain detached from nonsense and drama. I realize that a lot of people admire passion. I do not. Naturally and like everyone else I am moved by forces not under my control. Let's put it this way: My personal moral and intellectual aesthetic has come under apparent assault, simply by the observation of pigs rolling with pigs. A personal fault, for in the end won't pigs be pigs? Gotta work on that. Anyway, I'm feeling the caesures which move me moving on to greener pastures. However, I do have more to say about my new self-definition as post-antinatalist...a lot more to say, actually... and perhaps over the course of months I'll say it. But always remember, it doesn't matter what I say. It matters what you think. Boingggggggg....

UPDATE: Not saying the interview is right out, but motivations are fickle things. I imagine he'll assault my sense of decency sooner rather than later, and out will come the poison pen once again to slay the dastardly...um...what is it, exactly? Some kind of Cronenberg freakydeaky?

One More Time With Feeling

Evilists, your fearless leader has advocated the murder of pregnant women!!! He has reiterated that position as recently as yesterday!!!!!! And from what I've heard, there are a few lost souls who are ready and willing to follow through in his name. Absolutely nothing more should have to be said.

Note to Evilists

He preys on your weakness, you know. And seeing that he's actually a monist and believes that in killing you he kills himself...well, do I really have to spell it out for you? You are the back against which he tests his cat-o-nines, his self-flagellation by proxy.

The chance to please you dad has passed, Professor. He's gone. And hasn't this all been a terrible burden to bear? Let it go, and experience the incredible lightness of ending a project that you never had the acumen to complete in the first place. I'm sorry, but there's no Nobel Prize in your future, Professor, including the future of your corpse. You've strayed too far from reality's grip and are lost in the tempest of your own emotional frailty, yet somehow you believe your vicarious immortality lies just on the other side of the secret door that you've bashed your head against your entire life. It doesn't.

Ok, I'm calling a half-day. School's out, children! Enjoy your comradeship while you may, for the sun is surely setting for each of us. I have a poem for this occasion, but I've lost track of it. I think I may have posted it on this blog somewhere. If I can find it, I'll add it here. Best to all of you, even him.

Festivities kick off this afternoon,
the party to dwarf all such galas past.
They'll howl beneath the urgent, waxing moon,
and make love on the waxen, melting grass.

They'll take turns at the speaker's podium
to voice their fair hurrahs and last goodbyes,
and shoot their guns into the tumbling skies-
wee thanes beneath the shoe of kingdom come.

But all the crowing, bluffs, and shaking fists
shall ne'er hold off their portion, and for this,
I'll not attend the circus at the end,
but pause in solitude, remembering friends.

And thus, in recollection of those passed,
I'll make peace with mortality, at last.

If You Don't Like Semi-Obscure References, Then Maybe This Blog Just Isn't For You

Morning, Professor Greyroots! Hey, I just started a new book today by George Plimpton. Remind me of the title? No, I mean YOU remind me of the title. You really, really do.

Difference between you and me, poopchute? I cherish being wrong. It allows me an opportunity to embrace change and to foster my intellect, such as it is. Unlike you, whose rickety abode is built on a foundation of hatred and close-mindedness. If only I could reach through this screen and shake you by your anemic haunches! Your message has become nothing more than a psychedelic ego trip of massive proportions, the absolute worst case of delusional inferiority complex I've ever seen. Maybe that exists on the planet! I guess you are special in that singular way, so...kudos?

Here, pussy! Here puss, puss, puss! Sado-daddy's run a nice bath for you!

Gladiator, or Pussygator? The Ring of Fire is Open for Business

OK, tough guy, here's your shot. I'm leaving this space open on the off chance that you can fire off a paragraph or two without shitting yourself. Ball's in your court! Time to kitten up, or shut up. Just say your piece in the comments section. I'll even make an exception and let some of your viler stuff in, as long as it's not completely over the top hatred or silliness.

UPDATE: Again, on the off chance that you're not gonna puss 'n' boots out of here, the rule is simple. You challenge me, I answer, then I challenge you and you answer. This ain't my first rodeo, alley cat. Oh, and no worries. I'll treat you and your arguments with exactly the same amount of respect as you treat everybody else. Now how could anything be more fair? If nothing else, maybe you'll learn a lesson about arguing in good faith. Lol! Who am I kidding? You learn a lesson? The list of inanimate objects with more class and integrity than you is long and growing, pretty much any time any creature on this planet takes a dump. See you in the funny pages, chumppppppppp.

or...

He IS a cute little feller, ain't he?

Oh, and no comments by anyone else here. Feelin' kind of a mano v. pervo vibe going on. Can you feel it?

Hypocrisy and Loreal #7, a Match Made in Heaven

Grayroots claims he likes to tell the truth
And pooh-poohs all my meek attempts at jest
He finds my little bon mots insincere
And says I'm just a worry and a pest

Oh well, I guess I'll have to catch that flak
And listen to the jackass bray his scorn
But in the meantime I'll still have my fun
Dividing all his peanuts from his corn

BTW, if the jackass ever grows a pair I'm always here, and he can challenge me on any subject. Providing, of course, that he does it in writing. I've seen all those attempted conversations where, when challenged, he explodes in cursing and runs away. Well, not all of them...I do have a life, after all...but I've seen enough to know his 'reasoned arguments' rarely reach beyond the capacity to go ape shit and start trashing everybody.

So how's about it, pussycat? I'm waiting.

Thundercats Are Go!

Sung to the tune You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' by The Righteous Brothers

You never claw my face anymore when I brush your mane
And when you cuss me out, your roar just don't sound the same
You're trying hard not to show it
But Gary, you and I, we both know it

You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh

Now there's no haughty look in your eyes when I reach for you
And you never satisfy when we do it like in the zoo
It makes me just feel like cryin'
You'd best scare 'em, cause your harem is dyin'

You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh

Gary, Gary, you've built all your hopes on sand
You'll never be a lover, or friend, or even a man
Your act has grown stale, your pose, your play, your lame hackneyed farce
And all because your brains are up your arse

Gary-------------Gary
Gary-------------Gary
I beg you please------------please
Please............please
I need your hate..............need your hate
Need your hate............need your hate
So burp it on back............so burp it on back
Burp it on back............burp it on back

Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
'Cause it's gone, zilch, zip
With your quivering lip, whoa-oh

Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
Maychance you need some healin'
And maybe later you could clean your ceilin'
'Cause there's spunk, spunk, spunk
And so many pictures of your junk, whoa-no

Anthem for an Abusive Personality (c-donotgod)

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by The Animals

Jerkoffs, do you understand me now?
Always I feel a little 'mad'
But don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go 'wrong' I feel real bad

I'm just a boy whose intentions are good
So morons, please don't let me be misunderstood

Asswipes, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a dick that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that all I have to do is jack off
As I drown another kitten with pride

I'm just a God whose intentions are...well...
Let's say, lots of folks be burnin' in my Hell

If I seem edgy, I want you to know
That I always mean to take it out on you
Dime-a-dozen masochists, yeah I get my share
I like to watch while they eat my poo poo

Cuz I wuv you!

Oh, oh, oh shitheads, don't you know I'm not human
My thoughts plop straight from my bunghole
And sometimes I find myself regretting
That I'm just a worn out old shoe with no sole

"I'm just a punk who can give it, but can't take it"

Shove your evilist shit in the oven, and bake it.

EDITORIAL FROM THE STRAIGHT MAN: The latest Professor vid is straight up comedy, folks! "Oh, those bad people who use big words and such, and write and such, and use their wordage against me and such, and call me out on my bullshit and such, and point out that I advocate murder and such. Waaaahhhhhhhhhhh! And such. And he actually doubles down on murdering "preggos"...priceless!

That Cat!

1 comment:

Garfield the Lasagnificent said...

I'm pretty sure all of his followers know it's just a kink on their parts. They know that they consciously never develop objections to anything Greyroots says, because if they did, that would imperil their submissive role-play. They have to constantly maintain a subordinate, groveling role, or else they can't indulge their desire to be stepped on by a superior being. And even when a small fraction of them do see outside their kink long enough to develop an objection, they're painfully aware that they could never say this to their sado-dad's face. He would flip a shit if they did. So, they are content with their lightless, groveling existence as mucking tadpoles, dreaming of cat-killing brigades and democratic omnicide, all while daily perusing Greyroot's extensive self-created pornography collection, as can be seen on his DoNotGod site.

Meanwhile, they all cultivate a sense of superiority. They're the only ones who understand anything. Naturally, they must be. They're the only ones sucking Greyroots's toes, after all. And when he gets a Nobel prize, and all the world praises him for his scientific acumen, they'll be vindicated. They'll leave their rooms, en masse, and become the leaders of the glorious revolution, all under their supreme leader. He'll no doubt put them in charge of the democratic cat gulags and down-stair-pushing factories. That is their explicit, verifiable dream, that they couldn't even dream of extricating themselves from, even if they tried for billions of years. There is no force in this cosmos or any other which could ever wake up the kind of mental darkness that fetishizes a guy like that. It's over. It's the end. There's no hope.

But like the chickenshits they are, they'll still apologize for the worst of Greyroots. The pro-rape comments? Oh, just misinterpreted. An agoraphobic arm-chair physicist with uncontrollable anger problems and an extensive gallery of him masturbating online definitely doesn't carry out rape fantasies on his nicotine-baked thrift store sofa. Especially not imagining himself in the form of a lion hybrid.

The screaming and hollering like an overgrown toddler, even at his supporters? He's just a very passionate man.

The Nazis didn't really want to exterminate their sworn enemies. . . the Jews and Allies made up all that holocaust stuff? Oh, well, Greyroots also made similar comments on the Armenian and Congolese genocides, right? His particular focus is definitely not motivated by thinly-veiled hatred. And all Greyroot's submissives are deeply invested in finding out all the details of real history, just like he is, the noble soul.

Problem is, the recordings exist, stupid. Can't re-write history around your dipshit fetishes forever.

Greyroots of the Gaps

So I got a couple hours sleep and have been reconsidering the Professor's stand on what passes for scientific understanding as gained through hypothesis and experimentation. And he's right. I mean, I suppose that one could point to the usual suspects that pop up as a particular feature of a particular theory. You know, like correspondence with and confirmation by various fields within the circle of study, and let's not forget those real world applications that can really help to nail things down.

However and as the Professor wisely points out, that don't prove NOTHIN' when all the players are liars and pedophiles, right? Why, even as I write this there are underground bunkers all across this great nation of ours filled with teams of physicists, each with a child planted safely and securely in his or her lap, just sitting there making stuff up as they go along. And of COURSE they don't take enough voluminous pictures of their 2-slit experiments! THAT'S WHERE THEY KEEP THE PINATA with Schrodenger's cat inside! (Like the Professor himself, nobody is quite sure if it's alive or dead).

Yeah, so there are a few million papers and experiments that tend to lead scientists down certain paths of inquiry. And indeed, some of these paths wind up being dead ends. So where's the proof, really? Or the proof of the proof? Or the proof of the proof of the proof? Or the proof of the proof of the proof of the proof? And how could ANYTHING these liars and pedophiles come up with be trusted, anyway? Are the Professor and I the only ones who understand the inferiority of the scientific method when compared to the knowledge contained in vegan farts? And remember that time when the Professor blasted a cumshot into the lens of the camera he dug out of the bottom of his own commode?

Now THAT'S science!

UPDATE: Just caught up with today's 'science' lesson courtesy of the Prof, number 12,235 in the series where he says exactly the same thing as every day, which is basically "You can't prove it to my satisfaction, liar!" I did notice something, though. If you just turn everything he says about scientists and make it about the Professor, then it all flows quite nicely. OMG! Have I been doing this wrong all along? Now I feel foolish. hangs head in shame

Elvis Is Still In The Building- I Smell Him (I call this one my hair-of-the-dog approach...or perhaps that should be humiliation of the dog)

So now Professor Greyroots has said that, basically, the whole scientific community is made up of liars and pedophiles, and that he is the smartest man in the world. Are any of you evilists getting it yet? Anybody? You can't all be this stupid, I just refuse to believe that.

Look, I get it. Y'all are into being humiliated and treated like shit. It makes your willies jerk. Like I've said before, I'll never understand the sado/masochism thing. To me it all seems based in some pretty creepy psychological gamesmanship. But is there no limit to which you will insult whatever intellects you have left in the service of some useless, ignorant hick just because he leaves belt buckle bumps on your behind? He has ANY authority on scientific subjects because WHY?

Take off your goddamned hair shirts and let some air in, you imbeciles! Or at least stop pretending you care about anything regarding truth, go search out his basement and suck him off already. Are you evilists really beyond redemption? Are you destined to dangle from the Prof's ass like the human dingleberries that you are for the rest of your miserable lives? God, I hope not.

On the other hand, there is no free will, everything that happens was always bound to happen, and Professor Greyroots is just as much a part of the grand scheme of things as anybody, I guess. It irks me to say so, but it's true. You see, we humans live in two different worlds, the world of material reality, and the false world that material reality is pretending to be right now on this planet. Oh, and the Professor's monistic ghost world, if you're willing to buy your recycled metaphysics from some clown who is in abject denial about pretty much anything he doesn't care for or uderstand.

However, it is also true that atoms are the constituent building-blocks of both wonderful souffles, and lumps of rancid monkey feces. Which do you prefer the taste of, evilists?

Yikes! I just realized that the answer for some of you might be number 2! shudder

Some Days Shit Just Happens, It Do, It Do, It Most Certainly Do

So I just pepper sprayed some guy then chased him down so he wouldn't beat up his girlfriend, and then the fuckers called the cops on ME! LOLOL! Anywho, the cops took my side and sent the fuckers on their way.

Man, I gotta stop taking walks at night.

UPDATE: Oh shit, I totally forgot to tell the funniest part! Afterwards, the cop took me aside and told me that I need to shake my pepper spray up for better effect. I gather I didn't damage the fucker enough. LOL!

UPDATEUPDATE: LOLOL, just one more thing, I promise! Right after all this happened I continued my nightly walk, and a goddamned beautiful full tailed fox ran right in front of me in the alley. My God, what the hell is going on? Am I in the Matrix?

UPDATEUPDATEUPDATE: Yeah, yeah, so I'm breaking my promise and adding some more. Whatever. Thing is, it's really bothering me that this woman was defending this guy against me, even as he was hitting her and I was trying to assist. And then she took off before the cops got there; probably had a warrant or something, I figure. These weren't the most reputable types, after all. Just reminds me of Gary and some of his more passionate followers, I guess. I'll never understand masochism.

A Joke (told in my best John Cleese voice)

Knock knock
Who's there?
Gary
Gary who? (I've always felt like that should be 'whom', but whatever.)

Gary, the guy who states he would push a woman down the stairs if he knocked her up and she refused to get an abortion, whose audience consists primarily of masochists, fanboys who crave a toxic daddy figure, and sideshow gawkers.

To be serious for one moment, it's sad that people ofttimes tend to boost their self-esteem by cleaving to malignant figures like this. They end up all twisted and shit, even worse than before because now they have a messiah justifying and nurturing their inner turmoil and hatred. Grow some self respect. sigh

Yet Another Song Parody

Sung to the tune of Sister Golden Hair by America

Well I tried to beat my willie, but I got so damned depressed,
That I set my sights on Gary, and I got myself undressed.
I ain't ready for the altar but I do believe in fate
Cuz my sado-daddy fills me up with hate.

Well I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, Mister Golden Hair So Wise,
And I just can't live without you, can't you feel it in my rise?
I been one bad groveling toady, and I been too, too slow to come,
But that doesn't mean you ain't my lawyer bum.

May I meat you in the middle, may I jizz you in your hair?
Will you cut me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well you've tried to fake it, but I won't tell if you just can't make it.

Doo fap doo fap

Hey!

So nice to see old friends on the blog! Thank you so much for stopping by and contributing, folks.

Prelude to an Interview

Well, it's been a long night but the interview is in the can; the can being sound files, actually. Now it's down to transcription followed by publication, but all that starts later after I've managed to catch a few zzz's.

What can I tell you? The interview was muy fantastico! I won't say it went off without a hitch, and I'm a teensy bit apprehensive about how much material will remain after I've edited out the Tourette's and such, but hey, that goes for pretty much any interview, yeah? Seriously, is that the way it really goes? I've never hosted an interview before. We laughed (Well, I laughed. The Professor doesn't own much in the way of a sense of humor), we cried (at times he wept uncontrollably for some reason. I suggested he remove the nipple clamps, but he said they help him think). We dove thoroughly into subjects like his love life, his work history, personal accomplishments and the like, and then I finished my cigarette and we did the rest of the interview (I only smoked it halfway down...trying to quit).

So anyway, I hope you stay tuned. It might be a couple of days, thinking about posting it in sections. Ugh, got some organizing to do. See you then!

Major Announcement

Just snagged an interview with Professor Greyroots! Still working out the details, but it should be an enlightening conversation.
twitterpated--------->me!

UPDATE: Ok, the Professor is a little nervous about the interview, especially when I told him it would be in writing and NOT on YouTube, which as everybody knows is his preferred comfort space. He's concerned that he won't be able to shout over the interviewer, his favorite form of handwaving when he gets asked a particularly vexing question, like 'What in this whole wide world makes you believe you are even minimally capable of carrying on any kind of reasonable conversation with the scientific community?'

No worries, mates! He's accepted the conditions and is right now up on the roof trying to work out some of the jitters...

https://youtu.be/uCOSwU9ZGAU

Oops, Forgot to Title This One. There You Go.

So, you've decided to abstain from having children for this, that or the other reason. Now what?

NOTHING! Go live your life and stop hanging around bitter old men whose time has passed but whose egos demand constant gratification from others. Otherwise you've become part of the side show, and is that what you want to do with whatever time you have remaining? Glue your lips to the too-often exposed posterior of an old fool who was too terrified to ever wander out of his government provided thumb sucking station?

Look, it's one thing to recognize that procreation causes a lot of problems for people. That's a given here. But really and truly, there's only so much that can be said about the situation before you start repeating yourself, right? Granted, re-statements can be valuable for clarity's sake, and new folks are always coming along, So if His Nibs aka Professor Greyroots really needs an audience to prop up the ever-so-frail shanty of his self-esteem, there'll always be new pilgrims prostrating up to his feed trough for a lick.

Unfortunately, there's a stink wafting up from the salad bar, so my advice is to consider what you eat, and where you go to eat it. Oh, there's still nutrition to be had if you limit yourself to picking off the top. But that poisonous undertaste should at least give you pause. Then consider that the chef cares nothing for you. In fact, he openly despises you, and the only reason he's even pursuing his line of thinking is because of a basic category error. You see, he has conflated the category of 'thing' with the category of 'kind of thing', and so he literally believes that until everybody is dead, he will continue to be alive. Bottom line is he's a monist of one stripe or another. Surprise! (not really)

In the meantime there are hummingbirds to feed, people who need our help and encouragement to make it through the day, and of course many other things of wonder to be experienced that will generate lots and lots of more beneficial chemicals in your brain than tongueing the slime hole of a toxic sea slug who, quite frankly, has nowhere else to be.

AN is an idea, people, not a lifestyle. Grow the fuck up already.

UPDATE: Same goes double for the 'science' nonsense. Professor Greyroots practices the science of 'Whatever supports my ideology, THAT'S real science!" Thus any idea that runs contrary to the notion of a single, spatially and temporally closed universe is verboten. You see, the Professor is terrified of existences going on forever and ever. Can't say I blame him. However, science and wishful thinking are sort of a blur to the Professor, and so his existential list is conveniently truncated to one of limited probables, and everybody who thinks differently is shit. Or anybody who even recognizes his misplaced surety in calculating probablilities even though he has absolutely no mechanism by which to judge the merit of those probablilities! That's one cwazzzzyy wabbit!

Internalizing Determinism- A Beginning...

I started feeding hummingbirds this year (along with other wildlife; it's amazing the variety of critters one encounters in the city). I have feeders all around the house now, including an interesting domed one I picked up recently (keeps out the bees) hanging just outside my screen door. Big Boy is feeding as I type (sort of the on-site bully, but blood is never drawn and there's plenty for everybody...what can you do? shrug).

In the evening, they all come in for a late dinner. Long, drawn out drinks, and when they fly off for the last time of the day you can actually see them dragging their tight-as-a-grape little bellies behind them, off to the treetops to enter their nightly state of metabolic torpor which helps keep their little candles from burning out before morning's light and another day of feeding. Believe me when I say they are the first ones up in the AM and the last ones to say goodnight in the PM.

There he is again. It's been a little cooler the last couple of days here in the California desert, and they're venturing out of their shady hiding places a bit more. Sparkling little fish splashing in the atmospheric sea, and sometimes they'll almost let me touch them. Sometimes they'll wait outside the door as I refill a feeder, 3 or 4 hovering there outside the screen door. Little ruby throats pulsing with light. And I know all this is just space-time wiggling around, but so am I, and as I soar above the rooftops in search of nectar along with my little friends, I am reminded of the kindness of those who have set nectar out for me along the path of my journey. A bit self-serving of an observation, I'll concede :)

If you believe the logical consequence of antinatalism is hatred and personality worship, you are mistaken; on more than one level, as a matter of fact. Unfortunately, if you see things that way it is precisely because you never had a chance of seeing things any other way. Same here, for the freedom of the hummingsbird's flight is only contexual, and in absolute terms there is, indeed, no escaping the cage. You'll either spend your days in rage against the cage, or you'll learn to live with it. Either way, you're never getting out of that cage.

I'm Making Halloween Knick Knacks and Dealie Bobs!

So yeah, I decided to swear off television for the month of October (have I mentioned that already?), and look what I'm up to and Christ it's only the 5th.

I Hope NP Would Have Approved

Sung to the tune of Tom Sawyer, by Rush

A modern day warrior
Mean, mean, snide
Today's bum lawyer
Mean, mean pride

Though his mind is not for rent
(cuz it's a spider-filled basement)
Cowering back behind his fence
Hiding out the day's events
The quiver

What you say about his company
Is what you say about misogyny
Drop the baseball
Grab the bat
Feed the incels
Kill the cat

The world is, the world is
Shit, and so are you
Now won't someone buy me smokes

Today's bum lawyer, he gets high on you
Doesn't work for good grades, he gets by on you

No, his mind is not for rent
It's only wasted, warped and bent
Always hateful, yet discontent
That he isn't the President
Or Elvis

And what you say about his spooned out slop
Is what you say about his dye-job'd mop
Eat the anger
Drink the wrath
Suck the wisdom
Have a laugh

The world is, the world is
Shit, and so are you
Now won't someone buy me smokes

Exit the warrior, today's bum lawyer
He gets high on you and the misery you trade
And that Nobel Prize is surely on the way

The One Where Chandler Had His Say

So it's about ten to four this morning and I'm out watching the streets for a bit, walking the alley with my flashlight and pepper spray. I watch a youngish homeless guy walking through the public complex across the street, see him duck into the bushes for a minute only to re-emerge naked and carrying a bundle of new clothes I assume he had stashed away. I see them over there all the time, especially on the weekends when there's no security guard driving around. Watched the guy wander off like a twitchy squirrel and I'm thinking to myself that this is a human being going feral. Whatever conditioning he managed to internalize before he hit the skids is starting to flake off and he's becoming a lot like the urban wildlife with which he shares the midnight streets.

That's the danger of too much isolation sometimes. Of course the legal and illegal consciousness bending chemicals don't help, but you know, not every addict breaks down that far. I've known a slew of them, had them as friends, skirted their world a time or two, but the ones who go real bad are usually the ones who cut themselves off and become mired in the more fundamental, primitive impulses that creep to the surface as civilization's imposed veneer erodes through bad maintenance and general upkeep. Their thought processes and conversations take on the shape of the wounded badger cowering in his log den and sneering at passers-by. Their sense of self is shrunken down on them like a second skin one size too small, no room for inclusivity or even sympathy, really, although such things can be feigned in a pinch for exploitation purposes.

I believe there's a good case to be made regarding what we Americans think of as 'rugged individualism', and any society worth its salt does itself harm by shutting off voices that don't conform to the consensus opinion. However, in rejecting the status quo we sometimes gravitate toward toxic personalities, grandiose big mouths who trash everyone else in order to bring the focus upon themselves. The really bad ones even do things like make up their own physics ad hoc, waving them under the noses of serious people who have opened up the modern world for us, like the kid offering up a handful of his own shit in a cooking contest with all the most famous chefs in the world. Followed by a childish shitfit, naturally.

It's good to remind ourselves once in a while that without the molding of some kind of society, we are just feral animals, maybe a bit better able to count sticks? *shrug* In the context of our illusory sense of self it IS tempting to climb egomaniacal mountain and plant our flag up there. But, yeesh! Some people never leave!

REMINDER: Thin air can sometimes cause brain damage. Come down and read a book once in a while. Consider the unabomber. :)

Plus, Joey believes in spooks and won't admit it to his girlfriends. I mean, yes, he DID admit it, but his subs jumped on that grenade REAL quick. "It wasn't a real explosion. It was a metaphor! A METAPHOR!" And Joey didn't care to correct them as his truth ran from their entrails onto the clean sofa that MONICA HAD JUST SHAMPOOED, DAMMIT! Oh, and Phoebe snort-chuckled. Just like me. Oh yeah, and Rachel was in the other room playing with Ross's monkey. Phew, closure!

Umadum

Sung to the tune of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

He's an isolated dude from out New Jersey way.
He'd tried to make a go of it but couldn't play.
He was the low man on the poll,
And eventually wound up on the government dole.
He's in his basement now. He has a lot to say.
He's the boogie woogie beta boy who won't go away.

For almost all his life he's lived off Uncle Sam.
He likes to shake his dick in front of his web cam
And tell his minion hangers-on
That he's bigger than big, and even longer than long.
He knows they'll suck it up, each and every day.
He's the daddy-dom at the efil prom and won't go away.

And such, and such, and suchdiddlyuchnot-much!
He blows it 8 times a week, but we've all heard it.
He can't take a piss unless his audience is all in there with him.
And then he shakes it off (on upraised faces) as they scrape and pray.
He's the blowhard king of the gladiator ring who won't go away

He's the efil spoutin' screamin' shoutin' wunderkind,
Who learned to spell 'life' backwards son now we're all in (apparently).
And when he speaks on what he don't know he really lowers the bar.
He's the YouTube boy from Hoi Polloi who thinks he's a star.

He blinds the kids with science almost every night.
He don't believe in protons or the speed of light.
And while I don't like to seem crass
His erudition and such drops mostly straight out his ass.
He is his biggest fan. He's come to save the day.
He's the Efilus for the rest of us, and won't go awaaaaayyy... *jazz hands*