Wednesday, January 18, 2017
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
I hate dogs. I’ve never seen a canine that I didn’t want to kick. I’ve never seen a puppy I didn’t want to punt. Smelly, slobbery, squishy critters.
Damn noisy creatures too. Always barking and bothering about my hob-nailed footwear. Always yipping and yapping at my steel-toed boots. Always snarling and snapping at my hickory cane.
I have never understood why people might waste affection upon such disgusting beasts.
Conformists will put up with many things – including a hatred of the human species. But the one thing that do-gooders cannot abide is hatred of their house-pets. You can refuse to kiss their baby and they will accept your squeamishness, but if you should refuse to pat their puppy, then you will be truly ostracized.
The worst thing about a pet is always its owner. Everyone thinks their dog is so cute; I got news for you: that hound isn’t. What is it about a dog-lover that makes him think some random strangers want a drooling cur to run-up and lick them?
The more sociable the person, the more likely they are clutching a dog leash and clasping a plastic bag full of dog shit. It is like the feces are some theatrical prop that allows them to interact with other turd-carrying neighbors.
When I observe some idiot leaving a pampered doggie in a hot car, I knock on the window – hoping the dumb animal will prance about and, ultimately, die of heat-stroke. (Naturally, I wish it would be the human that might expire, but I’ll settle for the varmint.) When I see a dog shitting on the sidewalk, I unintentionally – accidentally, mind you – drop my candy bar, hoping the damn thing will gobble up all that king-size chocolate. I have these police-grade devices that emit this high-pitch ultrasonic wail; I sometimes a take a couple dog-deterrents out to the park to see if they are still working (ain’t my fault if some canine should suffer; sign says “no dogs” at the entrance). Had a neighborhood dog snorting around my flower bed; one night a bunch of fiberglass shavings and powdered cayenne pepper got spread around the garden (must have been those mischievous gnomes that did such a thing) – didn’t get any more sniffing after that.
Your dog comes on my property and I feel a threat. And when I feel threatened, I protect myself. And by protecting myself, I kill your doggie. Paws up, pal.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
Few creatures are as disgusting as someone who tries to alter fate. Few beings are as despicable as a person who tries to change his allotted destiny. Think of it like this: if you have a bald spot, then a toupee is only going to make you look more ridiculous.
If you were born into wealth, you would not dream of changing anything. Logically, you must also display the same acceptance of unalterable destiny even if you might happen to have born into abject poverty. If you were blessed with good fortune at one point in your life, then you must extend that same acquiescence in times of misfortune. If you endure good health, then you must also enjoy the moments of sickness.
Nothing is more pathetic than a woman who will not accept her age and tries to adjust her destiny with some illicit Botox. If a lady is fated to have wrinkles, then she must accept those crinkles. If a dumb broad ties to improve her tiny tits with silicon enhancements, then the end result of attempting to change her fortune will be advanced breast cancer.
When you try to alter your destiny, you cause an even worse disaster. When you try to modify your nature, you will only become something monstrous.
If you are in an unhappy relationship, then you need to remain in that hapless affair. Things may well be hopeless, but some lovers are simply destined to be star-crossed. If you make a stab at finding happiness, you might well end up dissected and dismembered by that new spouse.
If it is your fate to end up as a paraplegic in an automobile accident, then you need to accept that existence. If you try to change that destiny as a double amputee, then you might well end-up as something even worse – like a quadriplegic. Should you try to make things better, you will only suffer more. If you try to avoid your appointment with an easy death, then you will only end up dying in greater agony. When it is time to die, it is time to die.
When I was a child, everyone knew that the world was going to be destroyed in a nuclear war. If it is the fate of all America cities to be demolished in a thermonuclear apocalypse, then that is exactly what must happen. If human beings are supposed to be nuked, let’s get to it. If you are scheduled for obliteration, then circle that date on the calendar and set out your Sunday best for the appointment.
Love your fate. The alternative is far worse.
Monday, December 26, 2016
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
I’ll be honest with my readers – sometimes I get a little paranoid. However, my mistrust always turns out for the best.
Although I diligently try to avoid other people, sometimes I have no choice but to venture into the city. I can assure you that I always carry a weapon when I am around strangers - but no matter how well-armed I am in the metropolis, I keep glancing around me. About a week ago, I first noticed a vehicle slowing as it approached me – I say “a vehicle” because any sort of corporate logo was removed from the sedan. The automobile was not quite green, nor quite blue – but an indeterminate shade. The passenger turned toward me and held up a cell phone as he passed.
I was not initially alarmed; I thought it was one of these odd things that often happen in a city. A couple days later, I drove a couple hundred miles away to a somewhat smaller city. What do you think I see? The same sort of indistinctly-colored vehicle passing me on the opposite side of the street – with, this time, the driver pointing his cellphone at me. What am I to make of all this?
There are evil forces menacing the individual, and this wickedness is always most apparent when you venture into an urban area. This is not reality distortion – but a glimpse of genuine realism behind appearances. No one else on the sidewalk was paying any attention to oddly-colored autos; paranoia allows a character to recognize patterns of surveillance that are not immediately apparent to the more conforming citizens.
Now, I would be the first to admit that there isn’t a damn thing special about me. If any of my readers were ever to pay sufficient attention to their own societal environment, they might notice the same malign entities watching them. You never see the world as clearly as when you are afraid.
Paranoia is a heightened awareness. There is something wrong with a human being who is not suspicious of strangers. Only a distrustful person is experiencing reality clearly. If you do not take each social interaction “the wrong way,” then you will never understand what is truly going on.
A paranoid individual views the underlying motivations of other people as malevolent. What if that perception of hidden maliciousness is a correct reading of the true nature of the world? The totalitarian rulers of the world may well label the paranoid personality as “antisocial” – I would prefer to call the paranoid person as “accurate.”
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
If there is such a thing as enlightenment, it will only be attained by enhancing and expanding and enlarging and extending the ego. If there is wisdom to be found on this planet, the only way that you are ever going to reach illumination is to become a complete and compulsive individualist. A deity is one selfish motherfucker indeed.
But individualism, like anything holy, is not going to be worshiped by the horde – anything sacred is going to be feared. The well-behaved, well-indoctrinated members of society are going to think you are damn weird for not enjoying their wonderful company and companionship. Should you be foolish to admit that you just want to be left alone, they are going to insist that you need psychological treatment.
Getting away from the herd is more than a means of self-understanding; staying away from the human hive is a matter of self-defense. Other people are out destroy you. The more you discover about the real nature of existence, the more that the rest of society is going to try to extinguish that awareness – even if that means exterminating loners like you.
There is absolutely nothing to be gained from your neighbors. You catch things from other people: like fecal bacteria, like liberalism, like compassion. If you want to maintain your sanity and sanitation you don’t want other human beings to get close to you. You don’t want some smelly stranger to touch or to talk to you.
Individualism comes at a cost. The altruist will assume that there must be something wrong with you should you want to remain alone. The strange paradox is that the more you try to evade the masses, the more the multitude will be coming around to torment you. And these meddlers will imagine that their intrusion is actually for your own good. Their well-intentioned interference will force you even further away from multitude. The greater your need for personal solitude, the more the good people are going to treat you as if you have psychological issues.
If you want to maintain your own particular independence, you obviously have no choice but to separate yourself from the communal. However, the more you sever connections with the community, the more the collective will try to attack you. Nothing is more threatening to the commune than a loner; do-gooders aren’t just going to let you walk away without assaulting your character.
There is one thing that these humanitarians cannot stand: solitude. The more solitary you spend your days, the more than you can purge yourself of socialist imprinting. Thinking of a wilderness area as a sort of enema for the soul: it clears you out. A week alone in the mountains is like a colon cleanse for the spirit. When it is time to empty your bowels, you want your ass to be turned toward society.
If you are persecuted by the humanitarians, then you have done life right. If you are hated by the do-gooders, then you have made wise choices in this existence. And if you leave the conformists covered with shit, you have learned a thing or two in this world.