Friday, August 22, 2008

Someone Has A Brain

I walked into a petrol station bathroom today and realised that this world is not as doomed as I had originally thought it to be. This realisation was sparked when I spotted the several yellow syringe disposal units attached to the white, glazed wall of the seedy facility, it's the symbol that someone in this world is actually thinking for once and it tells us that there is a select group in the land of six billion minds that will prolong the well-being for humans everywhere. I agree, I'm a hater of drugs and they should be abolished, but let's get real and cut the shit, drugs are a flame that will never die and the more humans that use them, the more sticks that are thrown into the ever-growing flame. When fire fighters are battling a flame, there one and only objective is not to put out the fire, but to contain it and that is obviously how these thinkers are battling this flame. But please, do not miss the analogy of the flame, to clarify, it is not the drugs, it is Aids. The units on those walls are not to stop the stoners around the globe, nor encourage them, but to separate disease from the individuals that are not purposely putting themselves at this potential risk. It's to encourage drug abusers and users (diabetes, etc.) to allow their problem to remain their problem. Month by month, I read the stories of someone getting pinched by needles because an infant got curious around the play equipment or someone wanted to have a short walk along the beach as they get splashed across the scroll on my internet browser; that's an innocent life ruined, perhaps even one that might not have been properly lived yet. Aids can be the leader to a hard life or even the provocative for an ended one but the idea and creation of a small, plastic box can reduce statistical figures that endanger the health of others.
Now, that's a realistic solution.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Roseanne, I hate you but you raise a great point.

jon voight
is a frightened little girl in a pink ballet tutu, who acts like Obama just wandered in from the rain forest with a bone thru his nose and a communist pamphlet in his loincloth. The neocons who own jon voight and make him dance on the chabad telethons are the worst most elitist people on earth. glen beck and jon voight are their bitches... both of them are used tampons who must be flushed down the toilet immediately! jon voight your evil spawn angelina jolie and her vacuous hubby brad pitt make about forty million dollars a year in violent psychopathic movies and give away three of it to starving children trying to look as if they give a crap about humanity as they spit out more dunces that will consume more than their fair share and wreck the earth even more. (just sayin').
Also miss jolie says she likes mccain too and hasn't decided who to endorse....huh? Aren't you supposed to be somewhat enlightened, or do you not know that the african daughter you hold in every picture had parents who suffered and died because of the republican party's worldwide economic assault on africa over the last few decades since reagan? whaaaa...??????!!!! (for that matter, the thai and cambodian sons you are photo'd with weekly too who's pictures you sell to raise money to help the poor? Their families are victims of America's right wing military incursions too. Mccain wants to continue with the idea of war for profit...the americans are over that thinking now! They have drugged our troops and lower classes into supporting their oil business atrocities for long enough. We want to save not lose our souls thank you. Now go back to making your movies about women who love to handle big guns that shoot hundreds of people to death. Ps....it might be good for your asian and african children's self esteem to know you support a brown man for the leader of the free world.)

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

You’ll Hate Me For This

Let's cut the shit; let me tell you something about me.
In the result of our world being taken hostage by the terrifying point of a digital paint brush and the figures that categorise our waist, penis and breast size, I have self esteem issues like us all, although secretly deep beneath the trenches of my boyish façade, I love myself more than you will ever discover. Be prepared to see what I see when I'm staring into my own reflection.

Let's begin with appearance; I am slim and I would consider myself a good looking guy no matter what anyone says (with the exception of these fucking teeth). I'll prove it to you, put a mirror in my room and in front of it is where I shall stand for eternity. This year, I've spent two hundred and eighty dollars on not six, not seven, but three articles of clothing alone. Everywhere I go, my irreplaceable hat needs to be covering my bed-hair or gel needs to be holding my every strand in its correct position, I mean, you can't leave the house without looking as if you don't take pride in your appearance. Shave, moisturise, cologne; a clean and a fragrant, aromatic face can say so much about somebody and by maintaining the money-maker, I am stimulating senses in the people around me and becoming an awe-inspiring genius in the process. I don't just wear my clothes, everybody wears clothes, it's against the law not to, I like to give myself some character, using a little bit of initiative by accessorising a bit; with a ring on my middle finger, a cuff on my right-wrist and colour bands on the left I have done so much from doing so little. Take it from me, arms that resemble an empty car park complex is a ruined potential, like a good shirt in need of some companionship, why not put a nice necklace on it and give myself something that the clothing manufacturer didn't? With the little money I have, I like to spend big; when I turn up to a party, I want to glow in someone's eyes; I want the things that hang off the outside of my body to speak about what's on the inside; I want to look, smell and feel my best; I just want to look good, really.

Now, with who I am; I think words are my greatest friend and my best asset academically. I thank my parents for teaching me how to use these powerful weapons we as humans misuse, and surely enough, I thank god for giving me the explosive ammo that I need so I can give these beautiful weapons some meaning, we call this ammo my brain. Right now, I am nailing this, almost as if this document is JFK and I am Lee Harvey. Not knowing what you're talking about can cut me deeply when it is intellectually based; I will forever take comfort in knowing everything going on around me, and achieve that crushed-crayon feeling of asininity on the days that I don't. I am a great mate and I know that if anybody likes to think differently could never be more wrong about it. When I see you cry my heart melts for you no matter how much I dislike you. I love the fact that I can simply pick up a pen and write you lyrics; I think it's awesome that a prolonged bus trip can simply mean another blog entry of my philosophical nothingness; I love that I can see an object and type a page on it; I love that I can use words the way that I do.

Essentially, I am an awesome person.
Reasons I say this are as follows.

When I look into the mirror, I see:
a guy who could be a good boyfriend if he ever had the chance to be
a good looking dude
a person who has never set out to hurt another
a guy who thrives on seeing the people he cares about smile
someone who's been hurt and someone that's been happy
a person who's seen the beautiful and seen the ugly
a guy who's first to the scene but last to be thanked
someone who doesn't wish to fight with anyone, even though he does
a guy that makes an effort when the effort is mutual
a face that only smiles when the ones he cares about smile
someone who's genuine, nice & funny
a face of gold and a beating heart
a dying breed
and a guy who knows it.