Black Flag At Half Mast
2001-05-13 - 12:16 p.m.
Noodles shaped like penises. Peni (plural?). This is one of the 35 reasons I do not eat pasta.
And today, I read something that made sense: http://unamerican.com/
In other news today, I got hold of a few-days-old newspaper. �Exercise Can Trigger Allergic Reaction�, I shyt you not. This is the type of thing that I talk about to �make a funni�. It is now presumed that an additional 3% of the US population has discovered an excuse to be fatt and lazy, from reading this article or talking to a obese friend who did. Yay for America. Nevermind that histamines (blamed for producing the rash in question) have nothing to do with acetylcholine. Stoopid newspaperpeople.
The unsent message: �Is it not true that the created should not rule the creator? Or were you created to feed it, to obsess over bits and bytes, for the benefit of the creator's current project? Were internet junkies consciously formed by a process of media, thought up by a stingy old man in a military thinktank, as he masticated over his bologna and cheese sandwiches?� This message was not sent. Because I was being stoopid and mean. Jason is sorri.
I have to admit...I put way too much emphasis on dreams. Maybe it�s the Thomas W. Wilson in me, making reality into ideality...but for whatever reason, it�s one of my few beliefs that seems rational. And it goes like this. Simply. There is no sacrifice to great to make for your Dreams (capital D: future aspirations). The dream itself is the largest sacrifice, because it is a total and complete suicide of everyone that is You. Boyfriends, accidental children, millions of dollars, hallucinogens or aggression...they can all threaten what it is to be you. Nothing can stand between you and your dreams if you don�t want it to, not even death. Two Thousand years, and there are still people worshiping a nutcase who died to save the world.
*replying lovingly to those people that keep spamming my email address with pornmail*
I have slowly come to realize that some people do not know how to scream. Howl at the moon. They can�t, for the sake of their own life, shout aloud. This is a problem. Just as every other control system in America, everyone is given the right to shout, but some are not allowed the choice though conditioning. This is how we are controlled. Choice is the leash of the weak-willed. We are lead to think that parking lots are for cars. They used to be the natural habitat for late-night screams. A vocal vent. Cars and their white lines are the corruption of the asphalt.
�burrburr�. That's the sound bees make in Rome.
