Unhelpful

I need a hideously expensive blender. A Braun or something I can just stare at in awe of for hours on end.

Chrome. Perfect. Violent.

Something ANGRY. Something… GERMAN.

I wish Blaupunkt made blenders. The way they pronounce their name is gutteral, a defiant growl.

Like a proper kick to the groin.

This is a walnut. I drew this in MSPaint, and clocked myself at an amazing 53 seconds.

Walnuts are a good source of dietary fiber and iron.

ia m with friend miho who chinese …but we are along ok!! hehe
we have very LunchMania with tradition bean jams and rice! delishas!

but……..

boys >_<

takes jam.. teese. you can be haveing all, MEAN!!!

then. we ClothingParade!!!!! **clickclickclick** sexy! we are let’sdressing at My home!… see!

everyone is happy now… ^^

Do you remember those blow up punching bags that had pictures of clowns on them? I think kids got a kick out of those.

I want one with Andrew Jackson painted on it.

Fuck you, Andrew Jackson.

Arming you for class warfare.

Print it, wear it, tattoo it to your forehead.

There’s a little tale of corporate treachery from which the text was excerpted. I’ll share that with you another time.

I grew up on science with a side helping of science-fiction. Whatever I read, one thing was made very clear: come 2000, things were gonna change.

As of now, we’ve got five-and-a-half months left to accomplish some pretty heady tasks. We were assured we’d have rocket powered cars, the DOW would be up to a heady 3,000, there’d be a cure for cancer, the common cold would be eliminated, many of us would be living in orbital space colonies, poverty and war would be eliminated, powerful calculating computers would be smaller than a refrigerator, and that we’d have robots to do all our dirty work, thereby bringing us down to a 20 hour work week.

I’d like to address the science, academia, and political communities:

Quite frankly, I’m a little disappointed in you. Your progress has been rather underwhelming, and you’d best pick up the slack or else I’m going to be very sad.

Now get to work.

Halt, for now is the period of bludgeoning tools.

STOP, HAMMER TIME.

It’s about 8:00am as I write this - while driving. I’m about 60 miles from my destination in Michigan after having been driving for about nine-and-a-half hours.

Forces in my life are already conspiring against me with ruthless diligence. Law and love having sufficiently fucked with me, now it’s time for God and money to double down.

As the car I’m driving required maintenance costs in excess of a paycheck, that only leaves Providence.

I have an edge - my atheism is increasingly approaching militancy. I don’t believe in Him, and it is my sincere desire that He return the favor.

My second fuelling break, over halfway through Ohio, involves breakfast. My order number is 666. Ignoring this taunt, I relieve myself in Southfield, Michigan. A large van is in the lot of the restaurant I visit. Its license reads “1 GOD”, and the license frame is labelled “Eternal Splendor” - what good is the illogic of religion if you can’t flaunt the end result?

I should get “NO GOD” and letter the frame: “Soil”.

Envy me.