Right on the heels of The Obamessiah’s Nobel Prize, I too awakened to discover this…
I’m still in shock at winning. But I shouldn’t be, as I was already Time’s Person of the Year in 2006.
Oh wait, I almost forgot!
Hey, let me be the first to congratulate you. Be sure to bring your Nobel Prize to any participating Arby’s for $3 off.
BONUS VIDEO: Steven Crowder presents: I GOTS’ A PEACE PRIZE!
“I have found God, and he is insufficient.” -Henry Miller
Henry, I feel the same way. Earth is just a giant waiting room and I’d feel better as a ball of energy than a meatsack human being. This body is nothing but trouble, a festering cesspool for the ego to roll around in.
The mind is a crumpled paper airplane in a hurricane, but the ego thinks it’s a fighter jet. The capacity for self-delusion is bottomless. The mind is its own worst enemy; why it throws fear at itself I understand, it’s a survival mechanism. But why does the mind attack itself with doubt?
Life was brutal for the caveman but far simpler: at any given moment he was either alive and afraid or unaware and eaten. Attempts at poetry or deep thought were ended by saber-toothed tigers. Now there’s nothing to stop bad poetry.
Sorry God, but I’m ready to go back. I won’t learn anything else here, life is all reruns now. I’m too lazy to meditate, I’d rather sleep.
I’m having trouble remembering why I didn’t commit to suicide when I was an atheist. If it was all meaningless, why didn’t I end it? The Satanist proclaims pleasure the greatest virtue. I couldn’t extract pleasure out of anything except being an observer and surfing over others’ hypocrisy. Obviously I survived. But lived?
I was alone then, before then, and now.
My pal Hal swears if he won the lottery he’d build an underground house and never leave it. Everything would be ordered and brought to his door. I don’t blame him. “Hell is other people,” is the greatest line ever written. Everyone else with a pen or keyboard only struggles for second place while the moon shits cold fire and the women sleep with other men.
I’m not gonna put any more effort into this review than the writers did with Smallville’s season finale.
Really, the show is so bad that I’m more impressed with how little the producers are offering fans and how much they’re getting away with rather than how well any story is told.
Doomsday, both character and storyline, was a total flop, and the featured non-battle lasting less than a minute was exactly what I figured they’d do, with the exception that Super-Lana was nowhere to be seen.
I didn’t look for any announcements online that a Season 9 had been approved, hell, maybe it hasn’t been. It would almost be a blessing to leave it all in limbo.
The obscenities against fans are stacking up: power orbs, talismans, prophecies, the female Lex wannabe, a dumbfuck Clark whose powers are stripped from him or their limitations rewritten every other episode, and now future/time travel shit with the League from the Future or whoever they are, brought in as a plot-saving cheap stunt in the vein of “it was all a dream”: I can’t believe there’s any Smallville fan over the age of 12 who shed a tear when Jimmy Olsen “died”.
I’m wondering if the one guy who actually visited M39 to argue that ‘you’re not being forced to watch the show’ would still show his face after tonight’s miscarriage.
Why do I still subject myself to Smallville? Because I love Superman and the Superman mythos.
Unfortunately for the still-millions of Smallville fans, we’re not being entertained and rewarded for caring.
We’re only watching for signs of life.
I’m typing to you from the same old craptop, but with a regular monitor hooked into its video output because the screen’s LCD lamp died and its now darker than the insides of Stevie Wonder’s eyelids in an underwater cave. Then the hard drive wouldn’t load, so I had to reinstall a copy of XP, find drivers, all this other shit. Windows XPenis kept my files but erased all my programs, including Microsoft Office. WTF, Gates, you idiot!
The craptop now also shuts off suddenly, dead, at random times. It’s four years old. Fuck HP products.
A new desktop will be on the way after Black Friday.
Somewhere on M39 I’ve already admitted I suffer/enjoy internet addiction. BFD. Everyone is obsessed and/or addicted to something and suffering is as common as sunlight.
I wrote some words about the past week’s intermittent lack of internet access, how it’s actually helped me. I’ll post them later, I’m too tired and/or lazy to find them now.
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