New meme... nothing to do with Ben Affleck/batman

Greetings, meatbags. Here is a brand new meme I created,  incorporating themes of animal cruelty, aliens, and so forth.

I Don't Hate Anyone; Also, I Saw a UFO

Yes! I can say whatever I want and remain anonymous! No one must know these things about me. I would have to move to a different country (again).

Before I go any further, allow me to amend some of the things I said in my "I Hate Beautiful Woman" post. I don't hate beautiful women. I do maintain that most of them are stupid, or at least have shallow priorities, but recently I've been the fortunate witness to a few rare exceptions. And God bless them. Of course there are exceptions. They're rare as hell, but there are exceptions. And I don't hate anyone, regardless of priorities, intelligence, personality, or anything. I was merely venting over a bad dream I'd had.

Moving on, I would like to utilize this opportunity to take advantage of my anonymous condition to talk about a very... momentous event in my life.

One day, in my backyard, after having meditated for several hours, I opened my eyes to find that the sun had set. I lit up a cigarette and proceeded to admire the stars, the appearance of which being a rare event in the city I was living in. I noticed a very large star in the sky, much larger than all the others. I stared at it for perhaps five seconds, until something happened. From a state of complete immobility, it began to slowly drift away. Then it accelerated violently, like nothing I've ever seen before, and disappeared quite suddenly.

So there you have it. I saw a floating orb of light, after who-knows-how-long it  had been watching me meditate. Aliens? Angels? Someone very powerful, either living or deceased? I don't know. What I'm hoping is that someone else out there who has seen something like this will comment and relate their experience.

Cheers!

Chantix, Suicide, Smoking

I am a smoker. I have been so for over 6 years now. I'm not proud of this fact, and I've tried and failed to quit many times. In my defense, life has not been good to me. But I won't bore the reader with these details.

The important thing is that I just read an article about the side effects of Chantix, a product of Pfizer meant to help people quit smoking (http://nymag.com/news/features/43892/). I've unsuccessfully used Chantix before, but I stopped taking it after a few days because, frankly, life's a bitch, and I need my cigs to help get me through the day. Anyways, in this article, the author describes an horrific experience in which Chantix caused her to hallucinate, caused short term memory loss, and even caused her to chat up the shadow of a potted plant.

The disturbing thing is not the article itself. Yes, I know, Pfizer and every other pharmaceutical company rushes their products onto the market without regard for human life. How surprising! No company, no individual has ever done this before. All products are safe because corporations have our best interest at heart- not profit. Never profit.

The disturbing thing is that I found myself laughing out loud at such statements as, "One afternoon, I was typing away at advertising copy, and as I did so, I began to wonder how I had succeeded in fooling myself that my life had any sort of value at all."

God, how I laughed at that. I mean, does it really take half a milligram of random chemicals to make most people question the value, the meaning of their lives? Then there was, "On the way to a wedding in the country, “I decided I would plow into a herd of sheep if the street I was looking for didn't come up soon.”"

Pure comic gold. To me at least.

I'm writing now because I wondered at my laughing at these poor people's plights. They were victims of unstable drugs, and their lives were falling apart. They ignored calls from their friends, they stayed home from work to clean up the messes they'd made of their homes... but dammit, in spite of how much I know they must have suffered, I still couldn't stifle a good belly laugh.

For whatever reason, I was laughing, really having a good chuckle at the misery this drug had caused. Especially at the author's existential crisis. Fuck, how does anyone convince themselves their lives have meaning? That's a good question, Chantix-induced or not.

Am I a bad person for laughing at her? I've certainly never wished those feelings on anyone, but in truth, I derive a great deal of pleasure from seeing someone contemplate their existence. Even if it leads to something gruesome. Of course, I hope it doesn't. But personally, I think deep contemplation is worth any cost. Even "suicidal" thoughts.

Why shouldn't we all just off ourselves? I may not be able to state the reason with perfect alacrity, but oh, there's a reason alright. Otherwise, we'd do it.

As for myself, despite how pessimistic I may seem at times, I have a great deal of hope. I have a great deal of hope things will get better, and failing that, I have a lot of hope that the earth is indeed conscious, and that it will cast us off like the self-important fools we are the moment we become too burdensome. Which will be soon, in my estimation.

I Hate Beautiful Women

To those of you who've no doubt accidentally stumbled across this blog:

Hi. This is a blog where I express all the thoughts I wouldn't say to people I know personally. I would, after all, like to maintain my job and the (perhaps mendacious) respect of my friends and family. 

I'm keeping a dream journal, and as it turns out, I'm even stranger than I thought! Actually, it's not that I'm strange- most people are just cardboard cut-outs of someone else.

At the moment, I don't feel up to sharing my dreams- but I will eventually. What I'd like to write about today is what they mean. Does anyone else here hate the very sight of beautiful women? I could be wrong, but damn, what thoughtless, heartless, painted monkeys. I'm sure there are some exceptions (actually I'm not; I only said that to appear reasonable), but for the most part, I am subconsciously repelled by anything that derives its sense of self worth from its appearance. I'll tell you one thing you'll never see: a B.W. reading a book, or attempting to enrich herself in any way, shape, or form not conducive to ensnaring men. If you have seen one reading a book, chances are she's only doing it because she "likes" a guy interested in literature. If not, then check the cover to see if it isn't the latest steaming pile of shit, like "Chicken Shit for the Soul," or "Eat, Pray, Shit." If neither of these are the case, then she's probably posing for a photo, a sly smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, eyes sparkling from behind non-corrective lenses, reclining on expensive furniture.

I hate men, too. And mosquitoes. But not as much as a beautiful woman. Hearts of stone, brains of wood; the only soft thing about them is their skin- especially when they have implants.

I really do wish I didn't feel this way. However, after everything I've seen and experienced, I know I'm right, with few (if any) exceptions to the contrary. 

The relationship between a women's beauty and intellect appears to be inversely proportional. Such is life. 

Finally: I'd like to invite any and all comments. Disagree with me? I respect that. Want to call me names and say mean things to me? That's fine, I suppose. Know of an exception to the inverse proportion? I probably won't believe you, but I encourage you to post any way. 

Thanks for reading!

Update 8/27/2013:

It has come to my attention that even average looking women, and yes, even the uglies, can be just as insipid as any looker out there. However, out of shame at having lost the great genetic lottery, they're less likely to be as obnoxious as a looker.