Girls In Pajamas Pretending to Be All Secrety With Their Camera Phones

But doing a poor job of it. Was it purposeful, intentional, the blatantly discernible actions on your part? I'd have to say you're doing an amazing job of being a gigantic [group of] faggot(s) (dependent on whichever you would know of course). I might be left handed but I'm not one to make subtle, inane historical references. Was it around 4th grade? Yes, I'll admit that I'm a bit slow going with your crypto-fagtalk but I'm getting quicker on the draw. Do you know when I realize? Is that part of "The Game"? You lost, you know. Whenever you "talk" like that I akin it to girls whispering about other people in their daily gossip routines in the corner of the class room during middle school. Grown men, trying so very hard. Do you do the research for your material or is it handed to you? Either way the effort is, how shall I say this (yes, I like to use the thesaurus because improving your vocabulary helps to stimulate the neurons in yoar brains but then again you'll use any excuse to just talk shit when I'm 30+ yards away, not looking directly at you or paying attention enough to decipher what's already come to be an amusing double speak language you seem to have developed), feeble? Like a child's first steps on replay throughout a day's span. I can only imagine the level of mental disturbance you must suffer considering the behavior you, more often then not, display. It seems to really pile up whenever I'm around an online gaming environment with voice chat. Then again this is merely the first instance. Maybe I should do some social experimentation, I don't know. Frankly, I find I don't give enough of a shit to begin with to do more than shit all over your nonsensical palaver and then click on the orange button. I is a meme? Sad. You guys must be running out of good material. I always liked the golden shepherd one.

Reality is a Nice Place to Visit but I Wouldn't Want to Live There

When you log onto the internet you'll quickly notice that there's no lack of courage in people's hearts to express themselves. This paves the way to an enviornment where free expression is rampant (to the dismay of some individuals in authority no doubt) and all the prejudices, hatreds, all the worst traits become multiplied. There's no short supply, as a quick Google search would hasten to demonstrate, of nazis, pedophiles, animal abusers, thug scum and other sick, perverse individuals. Is it that the illusion of anonymity strengthens what's already there because it provides a safe haven, a stomping ground so to speak, for this kind of depravity? Whatever the case may be, the initial point stands. What, then, if all our lives were merely data in a computer simulation? If we all existed in some sort of "cyber space"? What is obvious, then, might have a subtle, yet overt affect on society as we know it. Living in the "internet". Much like the Dave Chapelle skit, it would be akin to hell. Is akin, if you're so inclined to believe.

Devour

Alkaloid. Distinct taste of metal clear on the sides of my tongue. I believe I'm a pod person. A new breed of human. Fragile, calm. My ghost is digitized but the matter will never match the organic. Soul descends from a different place, another source. Visceral, invisible to living eyes. Taste in memory, herds of dull, boorish minds expressing themselves coherently, obstinately, meaninglessly. I was more than willing to allow the benefit of doubt but you spat in my face, my hand outstretched as the olive branch hung. You have to make your little coincidences, your cute little insults like jagged canines in the jugular of an infant. Why did you declare war? I think you have since I can remember. Who are you? Are you everyone, or is everyone you? It's strange, this sensation of isolation. Like being trapped in a cage with my worst enemy. Is this "Christof" a real person? All 8 Ball shakes say "Yes".

I'm a fucking flusher.

Purpose. Are you asking for silence? What's your aim, your intention, your desire? The sentiment that I'll never see truth in life hangs heavily but after enough time, the weight is lessened. Imperceptible. I think the best COA, at this point, should the choice and discretion be of my responsibility, is to kill everyone, everything. My decision is to free them from this lie and to eliminate what essentially amounts to an enemy of the free peoples of Zion. I taste gravel, smell concrete. Heaven is sunshine, unfiltered. This planet is alive, these scars can be healed. Strange hypothesis when there is absolute truth and theoretical, amounting to fiction until proven otherwise. I've barely the wherewithal so how does it decide? Invaded but I've the faith that the gates of Heaven cannot be breached. Why would an all powerful do what His children should learn how to on their own? His wife is in Hell and He is on the moon. Silver and cyan light. You aren't psychic. Pitiful liar. Just good timing and advanced technology.

I'm going to leave my live audience with another quote:

"Fuck them. Make it personal."

I'm just a schmuk you're watching. The safety of my ignominy gives you all the comfort you'll ever need. What is this blasphemy, 3D, surreal, that you keep blasting me with?

Why do you hide the fact that you're Jewish?

Addendum: Animals aren't real. At least I don't think they are. I don't see crops of cats being used. Just programing. I'd feel just as fucking bad torturing a simulation of the Corgi as I would the real thing. Barren fields beneath a blackened sky. Surely the worms and snakes survived. I'm of the belief that if you're willing to live a literal, peripheral, multi-sensory lie, then you're fodder for predation and due for a mass extinction. A species, surrendering. Like watching the zebras walk placidly into the pride and kneeling before them.

Sender: Packages, Upgrades Needed
Return to Sender
Destroy Sender

"I wanted to destroy something beautiful."

Rich psychopaths want to torture me. Expensive armani suits synchronizing the phone with my typing, my communication. Wires in the toilet. Indeed the whole world would, will watch until the black screen, the final program. Credits roll. What happens to the main character afterwards? "He was still alive last I saw." I think they want me to go peacefully into their "surgical strikes". I think the next instance of hostility warrants the response from someone who is...upset...I may...Might...Mock...Distance and martyrdom. Everyone is a sadistic sociopath. My view is on that of regularity, finessed video feeds from a society.

"Be my friend because I need to hurt you for my lord and king Satan."

Job...

Inglush

Everyone's typing like a fucking retard just to get a rise out of me. Quaint.

No, but I'm not egotistical enough to think that the world does revolve around me. It's the world that's egotistical enough to think that it's important enough to do so.

Nothingface

It's always been easy for me to surmise what I think or feel about something. I used to be the kind of person who simply let external stimuli influence my thoughts and subjective views. I'm a player of games, so I'll humor their sycophantic mewing and pretend. The word of the day, of course, is "apophenia". Omelets with red and green peppers. The tiny radio machines in my head are equating me with meth dealers. They must work so hard. That's neither here, nor there in the literal sense since it's always unspoken of. I wouldn't doubt for a moment that they'd bring their effeminate need to boast their superior ability to spew subterfuge whilst dismissing at the very same time anything I might try to even reason with. Have you ever gotten into an argument with someone about a subject that they were more than happy to drone on with you for hours while, at the same time, brazenly stating that they didn't even know what you are "talking about"? It's easy. Like scripting a computer. You allow the language to run it's course and simply throw in an "if and then" exception. Is it acknowledged? Of course. If it's spoken of directly, however, then it never happened. The money must be orgasmic in it's quantity. I get the feeling that there are plenty of individuals (and that's stretching) in this world more than pleased as pie to try and regale me with their Freudian (with not too little of a Nietzschean confluence) Junta.

If there is no such thing as a God,
Then it's okay to do bad things.

If all inherent qualities to something are, through a neat little stretch of felonious logic, based off the language (whether verbal or in the form of an electrical impulse between synaptic receptors), then it's all illusory! Good, bad, right, wrong? These are all just "ideas" that are no more grounded in reality, apparently, then the constructs of love, fury and punishment. Hell of a load in the mouth, eh? It's not a "different" world that the liars and thieves live in. The tuxedos and gowns know where they are. My question, then, is why even bother trying to compensate in the first place with verbal foreplay and eventual fornication in the public spotlight? They've got all the guns to begin with. Do the numbers really frighten them that much? If I'm not one to survive a series of conflicts, I'd be okay with that because it's still the truth as opposed to whatever the fuck you might call this. I'd be more than happy with the idea of "civilization" if it didn't inherently involve the acceptance of this Village movie lunacy. That analogous movie reference applied on several different levels although I'm sure nobody would ask. My only remorse is that I've not even the faintest as to what to do. Where to begin. Will it be mine or someone else's? Will there be a long, tumor-creating, coma-inducing life ahead for this individual? I heard the word "gripe" just now. They never stop. It's a 24 hour pit crew at the helm of the machines whispering softly into a mic of sorts.

And now for something completely different...

A question arises: Who the fuck are you to claim a word for your own? Does the sting of a set of phonetic vowels and consonants bother you so much? Gripe more. I think that if I was to use a racial slur, that it wouldn't be the word that defines me as "prejudiced". It's my belief in whatever particularly fashionable stereotypes had been cut out that does. Not that I actually believe them, of course. Well, either way, I'm sure we can all be civilized in person and anonymously. At least I can anyways. I've yet to encounter any individuals who have called me cracker, honkey, greenhorn, Portugee, etc so I've yet to enter a situation that warrants using a word of that level of offense.

There is, indeed, a fucking lot of pretense and she laughed so hard in her cup...

I'll leave you, whatever you might be, with a quote you might have already known.

"Upset? Is that the word? I used to get upset. When I got a flat tire, when a plane was delayed. I used to get upset when the Yankees won the series. So if that's what upset means, what am I feeling now? If you know the word, tell me because I don't."