Tag Archives: exciting

bank robber stole one dollar to recieve top notch health care in prison.

The silence in in submission we endure in actuality favors the compliance of the need to become insufferable. Where words are spoken of an offensive nature, we tend to believe they were written with ourselves in the cross-hairs of their mind. The choice of words only become hurtful when we partially believe in the truth behind them. Then, there are those that promote butterfly and lollipop phrases, speaking to promote the art of feeling naked in your own clothes.

If offended, were you just too religious or simply waiting for the next asshole (of your dubbing) to come along to fuel your consideration of drain cleaner ingestion, maybe just a shot. Some people seek out people capable of supplying them with more trouble, if not to excite their own worn, dull lives. They constantly search for these theatrics, ergo constantly complain about them. Have you ever wondered why it was hard for you to turn away when a friend was venting about something? Now perhaps her/his choice of words sounded familiar, exhausting, and lack the element of surprise?

Those that offend, never intentionally try to offend. It does not count when committed¬† in cowardice; behind your back. They are not portraying insensitivity. They are flabbergasted by the symptoms you’ve conveyed of having been waiting for someone to say it aloud, before your heightened emotive (and sometimes annoying) responses. Like the guest that didn’t want to be at the party, and said nothing to invoke their opposite ideals, and ultimately happiness. They are factually incapable of even accepting contentment.

Men suffer this just as easily, although men do not cry themselves to sleep at night. They cry on the john, or head, consciously certain the ventilation fan is on, so as to suppress the weepings. I call this practicality, and highly suggest this method.

Men of logic do not cry, though, they are not discouraged by the injustice of dealing with women either, despite it’s dependable consistency in an unfavored outcome. They pedal on through¬† the strength and belief in God, finding these situations as confusing as He. Aghast, at the foolishness of humanity, and feeling embarrassed because of His creation of us in His image. If the Apocalypse were to occur, it surely would be a direct translation of God saying, “aaalright, what the fuck? Really?” Everyone has their limits. It matters little whether you received a gold medal in the Olympics, convinced someone disc jockeying is a an art, or created humanity in about a week.

Every sports game I’ve witnessed, I’ve heard this phrase shouted; “DEFENSE!”

The repetition of the phrase means we’ve taken that philosophy into the real world, regardless of the venue, and are now, habitually, prone to defensive positions. Opting to score in the dark, as opposed to scoring in front of the Referee. (suckerpunches, behind-the-back-anythings, backstabbings, whitened lies, or truths, I know you can fill this in, etc.)

All the while, the honest, tried, and true; suffer in place of humanity. Someone always has to suffer, but the impertinence of others amongst humanity, have halted their benevolence as a whole, and only their benevolence allows them to accept their demise, and impending extinction. Nice guys (girls) finish last, however, now they might not ever be able to finish.

Speak for those who can’t, for the love of what’s left of humanity, even if the words are not your own. A fair fight is ever only a fair fight on fair terms.

If applicable, cease and desist your cuntiness. (rated R)

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observations outside the bar

She spoke with her hands mostly, and attached to those hands were these long slender fingers that danced like a conductors wand during the saddest movement of his symphony. What I felt was like a knife in my chest in the night, and involuntarily dropped the plastic bag of beer cans onto the street corner we met. One of the beers rolled steadily, uninterrupted by the cracks and tiny pebbles on the rain battered floor, into the gutter. I’ve met men who’ve given up the drink because they found God, but I was willing to give up the drink because I found her. I met her through a friend, and didn’t talk to her because I was timid, but because my body was already in the middle of a multi-task. Controlling my erratic heartbeat, the fist feebly holding the plastic bag now hold my chest as if it were to jump out at any moment, though to others, might have looked like heartburn, sweat pouring down my face as though it were a hundred so degrees, while my teeth chattered when I opened my mouth as though it were a hundred so degrees below. I only pray she paid no attention to me, and to my pessimism, she didn’t. She smiled, and disappeared into the hungry fog of the night with a Twizzler in her hand. Such a beautiful smile with a haunting impression.

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