Thursday, June 14, 2012

Put Ya Dukes Up!

"Why world... Whyyyyy?" Said Humpty Dumpty.
Alright, there comes a time when a kid's gotta make a decision that ain't gonna end happily either way. It's bloody, it's unavoidable, it is that kind of decision that'll tear you into two. Humpty-Dumpty would rather smash into a yolky oblivion then make those I'mma-roll-m'sleeves-up decisions that we more prominent living creatures have to make.

In the one instance... The path of life I once thought I'd walk on until the day I die-- once a beautifully paved walkway decorated with self-sacrifice and glorious altruism... now seems to lead into hell without the ease of strolling on a smooth cement pavement, but rather a swampy mud road that slushes like snow with every strainous stroke of the foot I make.
*pant* *pant*
However, What is ironic about this change... is not the shifty path that leads into hell. I already knew the destination was towards hell, but do I look like the kind of person to bring a knife to a gun fight?
Of course not, I wouldn't be in a gun fight to begin with, how ludicrous.

You see my friends... I haven't lowered the torch and given up the fight. At least, that's what I'd like to believe.
We should not discriminate against paths that shift and swerve. After all, didn't we know that the perils would be treacherous?
Of course. If you're going to do battle with Hell, then prepare for Hell to come. We knew how wild and unpredictable the treacherous road would be. Things only change when you know not how they stay the same.
The road was already known. It was Cartographed. In its twist and turns, though shifty to the traveler, the warning and maps would swear everything is as it should be.

I was just too unfortunate to not change with it. Not adapt to the shifting geography of the terrain.
That must be how Life goes... that must be how young lords and ladies turn into the acrid adults they came from.
I once felt like I was contributing to this ideological universe I swore I'd build a residence in for all my life. But the quality of those contributions seem to dwindle by the day.
I cannot be useful if I am unable to make a qualitative contribution.
In this first instance, therefore, my heart is torn to think I might have to fly away from an organization I thought to be the commander of morality.

Rollin' dem sleeves up
But on the other hand... I'm not a bad person. I still want to do good. But I wonder how valid contemplation is. Because... well, let's be real:
not much good can be done with just one person (at least in my current circumstance). With that knowledge applied, I couldn't simply call myself a moral person even if I did good things.
Because there is a good,
and then there is THE good. 
Holding doors for old ladies and being the friendly neighborhood community gardener is not my cup of tea if I am going to secure my immortality.
I meet these people all the time, who think they're good because they give money to X organization or walked X amount of old ladies across the street or don't mess with people in general.
The World's full of bullshit artist and all of them don't even know it.
I myself fear that I should become a bullshit artist if I decide to leave what I had held dear.
But it's just obvious that staying on this same path isn't sensible as well.
It is not sensible for me. I am a qualitative person after all. I want to wake up knowing today will be a productive day and going to bed knowing tomorrow shall be twice more productive.
I want to be able to say "I was as productive as three workin' people sunny" just before I die old.
But my current state of being qualitative: no muy bueno Meng. No muy bueno.

That's why I want to persue a few alternative paths that I believe shall assist the still-living ambition that will exist in the future.
The only problem with that is...
The World is going to hell NOW!! 
God, what a beast of a decision to tackle...
It's a mighty paradox that seeks to engulf me...
The worst of it is... Everyone else on this planet is facing the same adversary.
It's just that kind of time when you gotta roll up dem sleeves and put ya dukes up and get bloody and offensive and all that uncowardly stuff, ya know?
There just isn't time to whimper and be a victim of fear.

No Hidding from This
The Eyes of the World are Upon Us
All of Time Await in breathless Fear

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Viva la Causa

Saturday, April 7, 2012

An Ethereal Adventure One Caffeine-Induced Night

There is a kind of nostalgia that looks back at the past, at the adolescent, and becomes ensaddened that some experiences that occurred during that era shall never be revisited again,
like some great friend that has flown away from you for good.
These experiences-- regardless of whether the adolescent era was a good or bad era-- might inadvertently trick thee in thinking that it shall forever be associated with your youth... 
So really, in a twist of irony, twas not that wonderful friend that left on a journey, but twas you that left that wonderful friend to set upon an adventure, leaving him behind.
But in discovering such a tragic revelation in this fateful caffeine-induced night, immediately after so I was visited with a second, more countering revelation... That wonderful friend had come to me to tell me that I was not a fool, that I was not his inadvertent heart-breaker.
How funny it was, that I should want to have experienced that past I thought I lost, and to have that wish come true... but in living in that wish, I had come to realize that... I was a fool to think that such experiences that I associated with the past had gone away for good.
Those experiences were always there, they still are here.

I don't know if any of you lovely people have held nostalgia for things you believe are forever trapped in the past, but in vigorous writing and interacting with this moment in time, I discovered that such experiences were never confined to the youth... 
They exist outside the kingdom of time.
They are like us, living breathing characters that, being individuals like we are, though being the same person from their birth-to-death, they nevertheless change,
So that, though they have an association with my youth... that same character has grown up and has left another mark in this current time that shall soon be a past that I will contemplate on, feeling that experience again whence I'm older.
So, though this wonderful friend is the same, it is yet also very different... but not different enough to summon that despairing element romancing with that experience.

Indeed, the billions of beautiful things that I associated with that adolescent era of the past had come back that fateful caffeine-induced night, so much so that you can say I lived a fantasy, or a dream... for the wish had indeed come true...
But what came about that night was not a miracle of the gods pitying me with a taste of some foolish, finite desire.
The visiting of this past was not on any romantic terms, and definitely not to grant some arbitrary wish...
It would not ever come if such summoning reasons were so menial. 
It came and gave me the discovery stated above on more nobler terms.

What I was doing when I was young... 
Was what I discovered I was doing presently... just not enough of it.
I was adhering to destiny. I always did.
But the destiny of the past... is not the destiny of the present.
And my commitment to tackle the destiny of the present was not as strong as it was when I was tackling it in the past.

Well, to keep it short, and most pure and simple: all forms of destiny are composed of an intention braving the future.
(I say 'intention' and not 'entity' because all intentions bare the semblance of being an entity or being married to one, but not all entities, like a rock, have intentions)

Thats what we all do. We brave the future, and do what we can in the present to further understand and develop the future(and being that whatever we do, inevitably reverberates out into existence... it is reasonable to thus say the term "future" and "existence" can be used interchangeably, for they are one and the same.)

So that "experience" of the past... it is this.
But I haven't been "experiencing" it enough because I was braving a false destiny... For the destiny of my adolescent was to be a prominent 'story creator' (as I called it)...
The destiny of now is to save mankind... 
and so adhering to a child's destiny as a main focus is ludicrous and tragic, because it isn't the true destiny anymore. 
It is demoted to merely a goal.
The true destiny, dear wayfarer, is to do whatever you can to serve the continual development of humanity.
To achieve human immortality by serving humanity, and having your service reverberate throughout the generational development of humanity through its eternal travel within its great destiny of exacting creation upon this creativity-demanding universe.

I have to remember why I became a political activist, why I had to be.
To bring back these kinds of conceptions of man and creativity back into policy-making.
To make Presidents that thought like this once-upon-a-time.
To do this, no matter how pessimistic and hopeless an entire society, an entire generation had accepted themselves to be.

That is what I am destined to do, and that is what now unites the past and present... and future as well.
So Wayfarer, keep ya head up.
Coffee & Cookies & Amen
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Friday, March 16, 2012

Wrote a book. What the Hell comes next?

Supernintendo Geek Girls (Adventures)
I don't know if you know this, but for the last two years I've been in and out of the hospital because I'd resorted to writing this story with my blood.
That was a metaphor... to tell you that I basically held a strong commitment to at least finish the first book of SGG(A).
Not to say I would take a bullet or save it from an on-coming train or eat a baby for it or anything, but I had to know what finishing a story felt like.
And the Lord said "it was good."
Yea right,
I WISH there were exams for King Richard II.
Stupid English Class,
 with your stupid Catcher-in-the-Rye Bullshit!

When I was young, I wanted to be a "story creator" as I called it, but had some huge hang-ups on actually starting a story or trying to write one. I was one of those Perfectionist.
It was worst, I was AFRAID to write stories.
I had a whole plethora of ideas, I even trained myself to write down those "hard-to-track" ideas that moon you in a flash and leave only the echo of their giggles for you to dwaddle at during your English exams on King Richard II.

But there's another reason I had to finish this.
 I've gone through a lot of changes in the last 3 years. I've only been blogging for a year, and that itself was really perturbed out of me because of the international political and societal situations.

This World Versus The Next
Most people don't really grow up. My mom still wants to party and "get down" at age 50. Other moms go to the lengths of emulating their daughters, coloring their hair green and shit (are you serious grandma?).

This story that I have finished represents a era of adolescence that is convinced it must depart away from myself.
It frightens me, that it should have to go away so soon.
It maddens me, that I should have never written these ideas sooner, or had to craft and will to do so.
And now the pressures of adulthood and more mature ideas demand their brutal execution!
Not my babies!

These old, immature ideas have no home in the future.
They hold no immortal quality capable of educating eons of children across the bridge of time.
But I wish I didn't know that yet.
Sometimes there are a few things I wish I knew nothing about, the things that render me incapable of convincing myself that being 20years old is still an era of adolescence.
When you're trying to be an immortal person, you just can't think that way.
But I have to constantly face my own hypocrisy because I'm taking advantage of the fact that I AM pretty young(of course), and thus in this ridiculous world I have the right to be immature and kiddish because of such a profile.
And no one should know this.
Couldn't find any dramatic photos of a
contemplative person by the sea
so I settled with this.
Only the forces of Eternity may know, and bow their heads in shame at my tragic short-coming.

Regardless, I am so happy this time has come, and hope that many more shall come, in increments of months and not years!
Should the world not blow up, I will have much more time to free these ideas before I toss the vault into the sea in some dramatic, metaphorical departure from the childish fancies within me.

Here's a small excerpt from SGG:

“Turn around Ms. Chanitez…” Was the stark demand.
Rina’s muscles were stiff. She knew that voice and it scared the crap out of her. But she woman’d up and turned around.
“Yes, how are you doing? Lovely day for homework help, yes?”
“M-mr. Mezzo, you’re already back from prison… my, my, what big muscles you’ve gained.”
“All the more to squeeze the life out of those little ingrates that falsely accused me of a crime or two…” He stepped forward.
Rina laughed nervously, “O… and what a sinisterly wide smile you bare cheek-to-cheek,” she backed away.
He moved forward again, “all the more to relish the surprise of once trustworthy students confronting their unexpected demise— COME HERE!!”
Rina ran like the wind, receiving an unfathomable speed boost by the sheer terror coursing through her veins as she heard those loud, horrendous stomps approaching, “please! Please! Please don’t hurt me! I’ve got a divine destiny waiting for meee!”
Mr. Mezzo was once a skinny man, a mere flick-a-stick. When did he become so meaty and buff? Wow! If he only administered homework help in this form… well, I guess it wouldn’t be homework help anymore, would it? But he was always an honest man… until everyone found out how much of a pedophile he really was! He lost his wife, his house, his kids, his wonderful job, and all for a fleeting passion.
Before she knew it, Mr. Mezzo landed in front of her from above, his massive feet crunching the ground! She must of skidded three miles trying to put on her breaks, “holy snap!”
“Treacherous criminal, running away like a little girl?”
“I AM a little girl!” She halted and leaped back, gaining ground, “No… I am NOT a little girl,” a sparkle of holy silver-white flashed her baton in hand, “I was once a little girl, but now I am a fighter, if you think you’ll have your way with me like you almost did with Etna, then think again!”
“Lies. Lies, all lies! Fitting that you should be preparing for a political campaign, you can be the new face of all treachery and deceit!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about Mr. Mezzo, but a political campaign is not what I was tasked to do, this is RINA QUEST! And how you could possibly find out about it— God alone should know what sinister things you’ve been doing while on parole. How long have you been stalking me?” Rina gasped, “what have you done with Etna?”
“Even after all this time, you would still fain innocence against your deliberate deception,” he sulked his head and began to cry, clenching his muscular fist, “I loved all my kids! And you, out of all of them, betrayed that love the most.”
“Mr. Mezzo, you need psychological assistance,” demanded Rina.
“I loved you all the way a bestest teacher could possibly love his students, with all his god-fearing professionalism. Rarely did I ever receive the love back, but that was okay. I played the role of Jesus and crucified myself every year,” he chanted to the sky with his arms up high, “if that’s what it took to give my children the intellectual weapons needed to survive this cruel world, I was fine with it.”
“Stop!” Rina shook her head, her eyes almost swelling, “you’re a fraud, don’t invoke the lords name like that!”
Mr. Mezzo’s arms slowly deflated to his side as his eyes came back down to earth, straight at Rina, “A fraud? You call me a fraud? After all I did for you and your friend? You was the few who return my love. Yet so quickly did you and Ms. Jordan stick the poison dagger in my friendly backside! Was I but a consumable thing to you and Ms. Jordan? Why? Was the lust for profits more tantalizing then the professed practice of moral dignity?”
“No!” Demanded Rina, “you betrayed Etna’s innocence, our trust… you’re a pedophile! A fraud, a fake man.”
He laughed through his tears, “You and your monetary greed. I took the moral high ground and forbade you against such illegal commercial practices. I thought you of all people would know morality, but you and Ms. Jordan resented my shutting down your illegal candy-selling practices. You framed me!”
“Mr. Mezzo!!” Demanded Rina, “It is ‘Ms. Jordan and yourself!’ Not ‘you and Ms. Jordan!’ My GOD; how far have you fallen Mr. Mezzo? To be corrected by a former pupil who isn’t even doing well in English?! You’re a liar and a fallen English teacher!” She whispered to herself, “these are dark days indeed.”
He giggled, speaking to himself, “fitting. I was a fool to trust in a generation destined for destruction. She will not even acknowledge her illegal monetary practices. Indeed, might she not even be aware of how corrupt and evil she really is, purposely preventing herself from discovering the truth?”
Rina doubled-back, shocked. What was he seeing that Rina could not? Indeed, how far had Rina fallen to the whims of the devil, and how long had it been happening? She shook his words out of her head, “No, it’s not illegal, there’s nothing wrong with selling candy. It taught me responsibility and other stuff. You had no right to stop us because it’s a free country,” she demanded, while adding, “and plus all that other stuff about competition and Smith Adams. That counts too. I’m finished with your lies and mind games!” Intensely said Rina with her fist clenched in watery fury, “you dishona my trust, dishona my friend Etna, and dishona cali-fornia! I am no longer the weak little girl that came to you after school for homework help. If you continue to stand in the way of my divine destiny bestowed by god, I will be forced to remove you!” She clenched her baton, her lips pursed and tears inadvertently ran down her cheeks.
“Yes…” Mr. Mezzo’s tongue savored, a spillage of equations and statistical formulations splattering in the air from all corners of his body, suffocating the atmosphere with a rancid gray-matter aura, “you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day. Avenging that kind and compassionate English teacher is all I live for now. Get angry. Get really angry like I am!” He flared, “You betraying whore!”
Rina’s knees trembled at the weird, gray aura around her former English teacher, an “O shit!” face hinting that she would piss her pants any minute, “T-this isn’t English…”
He laughed an egotistically sinister laugh as he crouched into a battle taunt, “I’ve taken up a new curriculum…”
“Statistics,” he corrected, “Many people believe the world operates on statistics and reducible equations. They were spellbound to believe that. I became an English teacher once I discovered this dark campaign bent on replacing ideas with equation,” Rina gasped as Mr. Mezzo continued, “It is why the world has been eaten and left as a rotten apple core.” He inched towards Rina as she took some steps back.
Ms. Chanitez, did you ever write to the president asking for the return of your brother from this ceaseless war? I still remember that day… I thought a holy fire was lit in your eyes when I picked you to answer the DO NOW question about the Afghanistan war on the board. Did you ever write to the president as you promised?”
She shook her head in terror.
Mr. Mezzo smirked, “of course. Your generation is too decadent to give a damn about the powers that govern them,” he leaped in the air, amazing Rina, “‘tis why you’re destined for destruction!” His iron fist went for Rina’s head, but collided upon some rubbery, bouncy and invisible shield instead. Rina, being the central fabricator of such invisible protectiveness, was propelled backwards as the invisible bubble slipped from under Mr. Mezzo’s atomic blow.
“Physics! Thou art the devil’s deliiight—” she slammed upon her butt! The pain riding up her pelvis angrily silenced her throat from anymore screaming, she could only clench her teeth as her angel-fine hair stood straight upwards.
“A clever little girl you are,” said the fallen English teacher.
“I dun know how,” she struggled up, witnessing a geometric blur of slightly blue coloration fading in and out around her. She was not strange to this illegally downloaded spell; she looked around and saw a visible crack releasing air, she took out her iPod.
By Jesus, it was on! A slight drop of electric juice summoned by the alarm clock heavily used by Rina to remind her of the fabled reruns of Great Teacher Onizuka on showtime in the afternoon period! Her great anime fetish was now her liberator! “Cats on Mars,” played the name of the song, “Gods be with me! Another sign of divine guidance.”
“Who cares what happens to this world, to this nation, to those who inherent hell. All things of idealism are merely the machinations of pipe-dreams.”
“You are a disgusting adult Mr. Mezzo. Tis why the lord would think twice to save you, unlike me,” she sparkled, “You cannot talk to kids that way. Pessimism kills! And I won’t fall today!” Her baton lit up.
“I became an English teacher, because I knew there was a campaign to disable the proliferation of ideas, to destroy the language cultures of the world and replace it with the horrors of statistics and formulation,” he watched as the black matter of of purple and gray formulations perspired in the air like a fiery cyber-matrix, “how ironic… that the same powers my youthful idealism once passioned to snuff out of existence will be the very monster to help me take over this entire country!”
“O please…”
“Confident, are we?” He clenched his fist, the horror of darkly lit grade point averages diseasing the air like a dispersing miasma, sucking up the luster of Rina’s baton and causing a panic in her chest, “Before they fired me,” he continued, “I studied your profile, your grades and performances in all your classes… I know all your weaknesses…”
“My weaknesses— no!” Rina’s eyes big-breastisized, “that’s pretty much everything!”
His muscles bloated, black veins searing through his forearms and hands, while his thin Italian lips tearing into a sinister horizon from cheek to cheek. The slush of black aura pulsed more fervently in periodical burst as if his dark spirit had just taken a super laxative.
Rina meekly disarmed her baton and hung her arms to the side, “on second thought, I’ll just call 9-1-1.”
She got the fuck outa there, screaming like a little girl in the streets.
Before she knew it however, her throat was clenched by a dark gassy fist and she was taken off her feet, struggling to get out of the grasp of Mr. Mezzo, “my god… the darkness…” Many equations suffocated the atmosphere around Rina’s face. She never remembered a math teacher to hold so much power before.
“What sinister power Mr. Mezzo…” She struggled to reach into her pocket… “Mr. Cat, someone… heeelp,” her voice wheezed desperately.
Despite the apathetic cars whizzing down the streets and old farts up in the tops of buildings just watching, a growing number of pedestrians started gathering around to witness the existential horror of this man beating up the little girl.
What the hell’s wrong wit’ ma’ boy here?
He’s strangling a little girl.
Would someone freakin’ help her, please!
“Yes, watch everyone! Watch as I take my vengeance on the students I tried to save from this ravenous world. Watch!”
“P-…P-… pedophile!” Rina’s iPod shone a holy light into Mr. Mezzo’s face, blinding everybody and causing him to disarm Rina-chan. She scurried away again, holding her throat and wiping away the darkness stinking up her clothes, “Heeelp! Police! Rape! Rape! Fire! Murder! Domestic abuse!” She ran back into a narrower street, only to find him waiting, thus did she turn a corner into an alleyway, and whence emerging from that, there he waited, to her surprise, she skid to stop, “Gosh it! How does he do that?”

What was your first book? Why did it matter, why did you write it?
And what the hell did you do with it?
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Happy writings! 

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

An Angel Descend into the Maelstrom of Hell.


Russia's time Zone is weird.
An American Saturday is half a Russian Saturday and half a Russian Sunday.
That means they only have half the time to play and half the time to pray. They should call it Sunturday.

Alright, all foolishness aside, within Russia a heavenly decision was made. Vladimir Putin was overwhelmingly voted to be Russia's next president. No, of course I'm not calling Putin heavenly, but the circumstances of his introduction into this grand stage of history merit some angel or two in the details.  For within this planetary maelstrom where the so called "free world" no longer exist, where science and technological development are but mythological terror tales; where the notion of man mastering and controlling as much of the galaxy as he possibly can is considered taboo: A conflict between angels and devils are being waged.
Putin has found himself in the middle of such a battlefield.

In such an insane paradigm, the Russian people have decided to side with the angels on reviving the free world, whereas the original makers of this concept-- a USofA under President and London-imperial sympathizer Obama-- is committed to destroying it and reversing hundreds of years of civil and humanitarian rights.

Ever since president Putin and former president Medvedev announced Their decision to work together to rebuild Russia to its former scientific glory, big western financial interest pushed hard to foil the Putin campaign effort with protest, with "humanitarian organization" intervention, and a heavy media campaign within English and European media sources denouncing Putin as a dictator.  

This was more than just a presidential election. This was a very important test for us – a test for the political maturity of our people and independence. We have demonstrated that nobody can impose anything on us. We have shown that our people are capable of telling the difference between the desire for novelty and progress, and political provocations that press for only one goal: to destroy Russia. Today our people have proven that such scenarios are not going to work in our country, -Vladimir Putin

What's really clear to anyone not possessed by English press outlets is that the economic destruction requires something drastic, And with these European missile shields breathing down Russia's neck and nuclear submarines in the pacific ocean, one thing is clear: we're all looking at a potential stand off between two nuclear superpowers, something worst then a cold war.

"Dear Vlad, the Arab Spring is coming to a neighborhood near you." @SenJohnMcCain

the reason Putin is such a threat to our western worldly masters is because he has adopted a different concept of economy. An "American-revolution" concept of economy where mind is your greatest commodity to invest in as your central focus-- and not bailing out worthless green paper at the hazard of many American lives and productive institutions.
The fact that he's pushing for a science city on the arctic, joint space exploration effort with china, population increase and even sane, scientific and cultural programming on television typifies this. He hasn't entirely master the American concept of honest credit to fund that future, but he's getting there.  That's hoping-- or making possible Obama's immediate removal from office now. We should have a president that would join that cabal of superpower alliance for space exploration rather then destroy the space program.

This was once American policy, we pioneered "creative mastery over the universe" as government policy. Every time we've veered off that sane disposition, the verge of collapse was always nigh!
The only difference between now and the times of the civil war and World War II... there is no last minute President to stand against Wall Street and London Financiers, this current President is standing with them, and draws the sword on us.
We must be the leadership that saves this planet this time. Miracles will no longer replace the lazy will of a society to do what's right.

And by "we" I do mean the people of my time, who have their entire future, and even their very existence, at stake.

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*Arab Spring - a series of protest that took place in the Arab sector of the planet starting at the end of Year 2010
*Umka - science city in the arctic, and the start of scientific migration into the arctic sector of the planet.

Article on Putin's Victory in Russian Elections, by Russia Today

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Butts in the Air! Popular Opinion Gone Mad!

You smell that? That ceaseless smell of capitulation from the so called leaders of this age.
How sickening, put ya ass down you buttless putz; and pull yo' pants up! you've got nothing special to show, you wrinkly, cowardly fools; why won't you stand up with dignity? You make the air foul in many flavor-folds of lost integrity with your readiness to be plugged.
Damned Politicians.
Damned cowardly Baby boomers.
Damned cowardly, apethetic generations of today.
I hate you all.
I hate you more then the romans hated Jesus; more then I hate Judas.

Face Down, *bleep* Up
Our leaders have lost themselves, cowering in their little offices, behind the smiles and handshakes, behind their wonderful families, terrified of losing it all if they stepped out of line to do the right thing.
There is a deranged, narcissistic madman in the whitehouse, strutting around like he is the ruler of this world, slaying presidents here, threatening regime change there; quite a show he has made for himself to see, terrorizing the opposition and fellows alike.
but what's worse, the evil that knows itself, or the evil that doesn't?
Cowardice is such an evil.
All the politicians that despised Obama, that pushed for Hillary Clinton to run in 2008, have become broken dolls, endorsing Obama's reelection against their own will, against their own judgement; their ragged skirts up high, ready to feel the pangs of willfully forfeiting their integrity for the sake of cowardice.

Thus the world becomes demoralized. Citizens become subjects and peasants and hang their butts high; many sagging with exhaustion from years of cowardly capitulation and lack of self worth, others plumply fresh with demoralization, watching the clock tick away as the marriage to such dehumanizing philosophy draws closer...
And because it is popular to be pants down and ass up, no one would dare stand out by standing up.
No K-Y Jelly in this Jar.

Yes ladies and gentleScrubs, the era where K-Y-jelly no longer exist... has finally arrived on our doorstep, baring the bittersweet gift of constipation, all integrity leaking out, staining all the world's underwear red.

-Marmy slings a picket sign over her shoulder-
Marmy: well, time I took a stand.

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