I. I strongly stand by my right as an American citizen to convert to Islam, regardless of not wanting to do so, nor having the intention to do so. The Government may hereby consider this blog post a petition for a redress of grievances.
II. I stand by my right to bear arms, necessary for the security of a free State, regardless of not wanting to live in a world where I would ever have to do so.
III. I stand by my right to never be called upon to quarter soldiers in my home, but I would rather do so than leave them homeless.
IV. I stand by my right to be secure in my person, my home, my papers, and my effects. I got expelled in ninth grade for compromising my school's computer systems, and it did me a lot of good as a human being.
V. I stand by my right to never be held to answer a second time for any crime of which I have been wrongfully accused.
VI. I stand by my right for this heinous bullshit to not drag on any further. There's precedent for stealing a DVD in daily life that isn't online. There's precedent for holding people accountable for disturbing the peace. You have fallen down on your jobs.
VII. I'd stick a twenty in the yellow waistband of your biohazardous underwear right now if it got you to fuck off with your microphones right on up all the way out of my hairy butt. You voyeuristic homosexual fucks.
VIII. I stand by my right for this cruelty towards me to cease immediately.
IX. I stand by your right to link me to your blog back.
X. I stand by State's rights, too. After my own.
I feel like I owe you a happy blog post.
1 is bad luck. Me alone with only my thoughts. 2 is bad luck. Why do I feel that I need a woman who matches me? 4 is bad luck. Chinese culture is very literal. Death. 6 is bad luck. Small letter b in Russia. The pointlessness of second place trophies. 13 means step carefully.
Hi, my name is echoline, and I probably do suffer from the disease of rabies, as many of us do. I was hanging out too much with little forest animals on drugs. I was able to quit through the miracle of this program, and today my thoughts are on my new associations, people who are not imaginary and who have found a new way of life.
First I had to admit my situation and accept where I had gotten, then look carefully at my options. I am making great efforts to keep networking professionally both with potential employers and the homeless population. I dream of one day finding a boss who doesn't try to take advantage of me, not sexually, financially, or even something arguably positive like putting me to work as actual cannon fodder for the forces of good, but while I can hope for the best, it only makes sense to prepare for the worst. Staying off drugs and being very careful in my interactions with any small animals could turn out to be vital to my survival at this point.
If drug treatment seems hokey to you, I know you're not alone. I used to feel that way, too. Now I realize that any mind-altering chemical is a fake shortcut and poor substitute for regular and disciplined prayer and meditation. Would you rather look like a homeless pothead or worse to everyone around you, or a master of the Jedi arts?
Today my life is better, I am truly blessed and grateful to still be alive here among you. Thank you for letting me share this shitpost.
Angry and sad, why would anyone want to be around me? No close friends, no close family. Feeling alone, on medication now that takes away my talking volleyball, so I am lonely. The therapy place helped me get a job trimming weeds for a man who is mostly rude to me. On meds no one wants to talk to a schizo anyway, even the volleyball. Boss man wants to interject that it seems like he spends more time lining me out than I work. I'm a disabled computer nerd, not a tough guy. My training is in programming a robot to trim weeds. I can barely hold the thing for two hours at a time, this isn't typing. I need a gym membership and bulking recipes for a year already just to start this job. A few decades of painful life like this ahead of me? Why not end it now?
Logic of Wisdom
When one feels alone and crushed by the opposition of the rest of the world, it's easy to dwell on negativity. Anger, fear, hate. What is it in there that serves any purpose? A resentment against the rulers who failed me seems like the tiny part of truth at the bottom. If I want a happy, easy life, the best thing I can do for myself is to let go of even the most justified homicidal rage. Talk of a humble life seems like boss man trying to trick me at first. If I gathered up all the wealth and did manage to claw my way to the top, it's likely I would just end up assassinated.
I may be very unwise, but I'm smarter than you are.
It had been a year since Gunther's mother had died, and half a year since his father gave up and died as well. Gunther's mother had been a heavy smoker, and when she had died, Gunther had been too angry at his father to support him in their mutual grief. Gunther had been so angry, then full of regret when his father had died too. His father, an ex-marine, had quit smoking years ago, but his mother never did. Gunther had been so angry. All his father ever really said to his mother was that smoking made her gross, but he had always stayed faithful to her. Gunther had sunk into sadness, anger, and negativity. He pretty much wanted to die, too, but he didn't want it to be pointless. Seeing the news that a controversial mass shooter club had been formed in his city had been like a Godsend through his pulsing red rage. They would all be gathered in one place, he could mass murder them all at once, and probably die himself in the act as a hero. He quietly went to a few meetups, gathering information and making his plan. Over a couple of months he gathered everything he needed, and finally went in to mow them all down. It went too perfectly, he survived it in the room full of corpses. He looked up at the whiteboard with a bit of blood spattered on it, and sagged a little bit, then began crying in unbearable remorse at what was written on there. They had been outlining a plan of attack to mass murder big tobacco executives.
Most of us live in an ignorant and delusional fantasy, unable to extrapolate the truth of anything from what we see around us. Asking anyone for answers is mostly pointless, so instead we tell each other incorrect things.
Computers are good for whatever they can do, which they're used for. They're mostly used to waste our time and resources, and to spread anger and hate.
Joseph had been let go from his last job on a Friday, after refusing to make an appointment to see the company's counselor. He was being made out to look insane, his coworkers even gaslighting him daily. It had started as he realized he was losing popularity in the office, and gotten worse and worse as he had been driven out of the herd. He had stayed calm about it for longer than almost anyone else could have. It became too much, they would jam the printer or remove the paper from it whenever he had to use it, they would move his coffee mug around when he was focused on work, talking about him behind his back. He saw the strange looks and knew they were conspiring against him. They did their best to make even him believe he was insane, but he was well-enough accustomed to normal, pathetic human behavior to see what was truly going on. When they finally fired him he sank into depression for months. It wasn't the money, he had plenty to live on for years. It was the feeling of being voted off the island, and having no idea how it had even started. They had all just decided in unison that he should leave. What had he even done? After being let go from the company, he had made a firm decision not to put up with other people like that anymore. He knew how to live frugally, switching to bottom-shelf liquor and ramen noodles. He lived this way for months. No one checked in on him, he wasn't close to family, they likely didn't even know. No one at work cared enough about him to call and say hi, and he had always cared about all of them. He had been agreeable to all of them, and even felt like some of the blonde women there were friends of his. What had happened? He didn't even need a job, not in such a cruel environment, but he didn't know what else to do with himself, so he began to apply at other companies. He scored a few interviews but none of them led anywhere. No one seemed to understand how cruel everyone had become at the job he had worked at for years. Finally he was called into an interview and knew the stars had aligned perfectly for him. A blonde woman was the interviewer. Her hair was curly, beautiful locks hanging around her face. He knew the job was assured before the interview began, but he went through all the motions perfectly. He was at his most professional, acing every question. The subject of his former employment experience came up, and because the interviewer was a blonde woman, it threw him off a little bit. If anything it improved the situation. He reflected on that a little bit as she continued to talk to him, maybe employers were just worried he wouldn't fit in. Maybe he was letting them win, coming across as crazy after the ordeal. She had asked him a question and he missed what she said. Damn. It probably wouldn't hurt him though. He asked her to repeat the question, then couldn't focus as she asked again. Her wavy blonde hair was beautiful, she combed it gently with her left hand, her fingers like the tines of a fork. She sat looking at him, waiting for him to answer the question, but he had missed it again. She looked a little puzzled. She asked if he was distracted by something. "It's your hair," he blurted out. "It's beautiful." She exhaled sharply in surprise, her breath like steam rising off hot water. Then she giggled a little and blushed, looking even more puzzled. "Well, thank you..." she said. "I could just eat a bowl of it," Joseph said. "Like ramen noodles. With an egg in it."